‘Sarah,’ she spoke in the voice reserved for guiding her clients into a hypnotic state, ‘Sarah, I want you now to imagine you’re in bed. You’re just waking up; your eyes open and you see the clock. It says eight minutes past seven. Now Sarah, tell me what you feel as you look at the clock.’
She wasn’t expecting Sarah to reply, she had not replied in previous sessions and this session had shown nothing to exclude it from the norm. Stephanie gave her time though, that was her job, to give her time to change the routine. While she waited she glanced absently around her office; it really was time for some redecoration. The print of the flowing river on the wall was so dated and looked a bit dingy; the books adorning her shelves needed reorganizing and to be culled; she hadn’t opened some of them for years; the paintings needed replacing, having hung there so long no matter how well the cleaner dusted them they showed their age. The purple walls needed a good coat of paint; it was time for a new colour, purple really was so outdated now. A neutral colour and some new paintings would give the room new energy. It may even give her new enthusiasm and energy for her job. That Buddha could go, and the awful angel her mother brought her for Christmas a few years ago; and the transparent telephone, which had been fashionable and crazy when she bought it, was now just tacky and out of place. Sarah’s gentle snoring brought her back to consciousness and looking at the clock she calculated there was less than half an hour to waste before the session ended.
Sarah was an enigma. She never did anything of value in her sessions and was the type of client Stephanie disliked seeing. A self-pitying victim. Stephanie’s mind projected an image from a film; the therapist imagines pulling himself out of his chair, launching himself at his client, taking him by the coat collar and shaking him. She fantasised how she would enjoy shaking all the Sarahs in her world. Shake her hard and just keep shaking her. But ethics prevented this, besides the need to keep her clients happy and returning to her and to keep paying her, she smiled to herself. They all had reasons to be in her consulting room, she knew that. They knew that. So why did they not just get on with it? God, it drove her mad. She really did want to shout at them sometimes. And had done.
That poor old man, so full of self pity for his shit of a life; having to spend all his time looking after a disabled wife. He was so shocked when she had shouted at him. Told him to get on with it. And the next week he came back so grateful; it had changed his life, he said, shown him another perspective.
Stephanie didn’t delude herself that it would work with everyone and had actually been a little shocked at her outburst. She didn’t like losing control. Then she looked back at Sarah, saw the tears trickling down her face and her thoughts softened. Sarah wasn’t as bad as some of her other clients and besides, she was far too pretty to be annoyed with for long.
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted with the sight of Sarah’s mouth beginning to gesticulate. But no sound came out. It moved again, until eventually a soft noise could be heard but no individual words.
‘Sarah, I can’t hear.’
Her lips moved again, the sound still too faint. Stephanie forced herself to concentrate, pushing all her own thoughts to one side for a moment to listen. She leaned forward in her chair and heard.
‘I’m so lonely.’
Stephanie waited. Was she finally going to do some work? She didn’t dare interrupt. Sarah continued, self pity evident in her voice. Here we go, thought Stephanie, the poor me bit coming out.
‘I have no one to talk to. There’s no one at work I can talk to.’ Sarah whispered.
‘You’ve got me.’ Stephanie said, leaning back into her chair and looking out of the window. Silence for a few moments and then Sarah continued slowly.
‘I hear the women at work talking… about boyfriends and husbands… I’ll never… never be able to get married… I’ll never ever have a boyfriend.’ Her voice trailed off.
Stephanie leaned forward again,
‘Would you like a boyfriend?’
‘Yes…. but mother would never allow it… she wouldn’t let me.’ She paused. ‘And how would I meet anyone? All the magazines suggest going to clubs and starting hobbies. I don’t even have a hobby…’
Sarah turned her face sideways onto the head rest and Stephanie watched in fascination as the tears ran from her eye and dripped down the side of her head into her ear. She let Sarah ramble quietly on for a few more moments, knowing nothing of significance was going to emerge, but an idea began to take shape in her mind. She turned away from Sarah, to look out of the window; it would be better than using the internet, and it might work, she thought.
.
Chapter Two
Sarah turned back to wave, but Stephanie had already closed the door. The darkness descended in her stomach as she strolled down the now solid path to her car. She could see Stephanie’s exasperation with her in every session, felt it as it crawled all over her whilst sitting in the chair in her office. Stephanie’s impatience oozed out of her, spoiling into the pretty room, tripping into Sarah’s mind and body, making her even more nervous. But if she told Stephanie everything, her mother would hear it all as well.
Her mother waited for her, even now, to arrive home. She would be standing by the window, her thin hands holding back the curtain, her sharp nose not quite pressed against the glass. Sarah shuddered. The piercing eyes, screeching voice ready to tear her apart if she didn’t tell her every last detail of what had happened, what was said. Word for word.
Putting the keys in the ignition she wondered if those people who walked around with silver foil on their heads really did stop the aliens invading their minds. She wondered if silver foil would help her; but her problem wasn’t the aliens, she would almost welcome them. No, her problem was her mother. She had yet to find a way to stop her mother getting into her head. And other people; they were all so wrapped up in themselves they couldn’t see her, didn’t see her. Even Stephanie was more interested in her own problems than anything Sarah had to tell her. Her therapist had no idea of what she went through. One day, she decided, one day she would tell her, tell her everything she wanted to know, and then she’d regret being her therapist. She had expected too much, thinking Stephanie would hear beyond the mundane she expelled to her every week. She had assumed someone of Stephanie’s reputation and experience would hear what she was not telling her, after all Dr. Short had recommended her. It was becoming too difficult for a cosy chat each week; her mother was making it too painful and it was not worth the expense.
Taking one more look at Stephanie’s front door, she pulled away in the four wheel drive, mounting the curb and down back on to the road again without noticing. She was grateful everyday to Dr. Short and what he had done for her. He persuaded her mother to buy the car for her; listing all the advantages she would get from it. At first, when her mother had finally agreed to a car she wanted to buy an old banger. But Dr. Short again explained the advantages of having a decent car, something which would keep Sarah safe. After all, he reasoned, who would look after her if something happened to Sarah? He’d used the same argument to allow her to see Stephanie.
Driving with one hand on the steering wheel she reached into her handbag and felt around until she located her mobile. Turning it on it beeped almost immediately, letting her know, as she knew it would, she had a voice mail. Although she also knew what the voice mail would say she put it to her ear to listen to it.
“Where are you? You should be on your way home by now. Why isn’t your phone on?”
As her eyes roved from road to phone, Sarah keyed in her home number, to let her mother know she was nearly home.
Driving into Sycamore Road Sarah saw the house, and the shadow of her mother behind the net curtain; watching; waiting. She had stood there since Sarah had been five years old, and as far as Sarah was concerned she never moved. If school had not been compulsory she would never have been allowed to go. The moment she walked in the door her mother would start.
‘So, what happene
d? What did you do? What did you say? What did she say?’
Sarah recalled her first day at school, being able to play and talk to the other children. And then going home later, skipping down the road with her new friend and her friend’s mother. The freedom was exhilarating, almost over powering until her friend’s mother pointed out they had reached her house and it was time to say goodbye. She stood and stared at them, wanting to beg them to let her go with them to their house. Maybe she could come to tea with them, she asked.
‘We’ll see you in the morning,’ her friend’s mother had replied. She knew she had smiled then. Yes, the next day she would be going to school again, and the next and the next. Her skip returned all the way up the path until she reached the front door; until it was pulled open and the eyes were on her, the tongue lashing.
‘Tell me what you did!’ The itchy-scratchy voice lassoing her into the house.
Taking the keys from the ignition she looked up and saw the curtain sway. She swallowed the home coming lump in her throat, took her deep breath and stepping out of her car, knocked her head on the top of the door, when her mobile rang. Why was it ringing? Sarah’s heart raced, and her hand shook. Surely her mother could see her? No one else ever called her. She didn’t think anyone else had her number. The only reason she had the phone was due to her mother’s insistence, so she could keep in contact throughout the day; if her mother needed her at any time, or wanted to know where she was.
Looking at it ringing in her hand she could see it read, ‘No Caller ID’. She pressed the answer button and put it to her ear.
‘Hello?’
‘Sarah?’ She instantly recognised Stephanie’s voice.
‘Stephanie? Is there a problem? I didn’t forget to pay?’
‘No, Sarah, everything’s fine. Is it convenient for you to talk for a moment? I’d like to speak to you about an idea. Something came into my mind after you were gone. I hope you don’t mind me calling you. I know it’s not very professional, but it was an idea that I thought might help you after what you said today. I would very much like to help you Sarah.’
‘I can’t be long. I’ve just got home and mother’s waiting.’ She looked over at the window, feeling the blue eyes questioning her, and closed the car door. Cupping her hands over the phone she whispered, ‘She can see me.’
‘That’s nice.’ Inwardly Sarah sighed as Stephanie continued. ‘Um, this is a bit delicate, and please don’t take offence if it’s not what you want. But you see, I’ve this male client, and I know you two would really hit it off? Look, putting it bluntly Sarah, would you like me to arrange a date for you? He’s a really nice man, but a bit older than you. But I am sure you would like each other. And it would be good for you.’
Sarah leaned against the car, her eyes on the house. How was she going to explain this to her? Someone phoning her. Her mother would not let this go easily. The phone was burning from the heat of her face. She cleared her throat, trying to think.
‘Um, I don’t know. Do you mean a date? A date? No, I don’t think so. No.’
‘Don’t say yes or no yet, think about it. He really is a lovely man. He’s in a band. Well, actually not so much a band as he’s a musician.’
‘What d’you mean?’ The curtain twitched again, she could feel the impatience radiating towards her. What was Stephanie talking about? She brushed her forehead with her free hand.
‘I know he’d like you and I’m sure you’d like him. It’s just you said you’d like to meet a man.’
Sarah tried to concentrate, but she could see her mother’s shadow, stationary at the window. A date with a man!
The curtain twitched.
‘Stephanie, I’ve got to go.’
‘You may have heard of him. He’s quite famous.’
Sarah turned away from the house. If she couldn’t see her mother, she could ignore her for a few moments.
‘He’s Robert D’Lyn? ‘Stephanie persisted. ‘Robert D’Lyn, you must have heard of him?’
Robert D’Lyn? She recognised the name but couldn’t put a face to it.
‘Um, Stephanie, I really have to go.’
‘Yes of course Sarah. I hope you don’t mind me suggesting this. It’s just that I know he gets very lonely as well. I know he won’t mind me telling you. And you’ve so much in common. Think about it. And I’ll see you next week. OK?’
Sarah put her phone back in her bag, her ear and cheek blood hot from the conversation. Taking her time to lock the car, thoughts of all she had to tell her mother were clouded by the usual day dream building in her mind.
Sarah walks slowly up the drive. She is dressed in black, a black veil hangs over her face, hiding the smile. All the curtains in the house are static. Her step is light. Neighbours and friends stand in their driveways and on the pavement; they stare at her with solemn respect and she wallows in their sympathy. She takes her time inserting the key in the door for the first time in her life, and opens the door slowly. Stepping into the hallway there is only the sound of silence.
Opening her eyes she walked towards the house. Would it ever happen? Would she miss her? But deep in the pit of her stomach, as it churned with every step towards the front door, she knew she would not. As usual before she had a chance to put her key in the door, it was wrenched open on its hinges.
‘What was all that about? Who would want to phone you?’ Sarah closed down the screen to her mind to answer the relentless interrogation. She didn’t mind, it would return. It would usually be there again in the evening as she rewrote the script and perfected it while subjected to her mother’s favourite television programmes and non-stop vitriol of comments on each subject that may be raised. Adultery in Eastenders; abortion in Coronation Street; politics in Emmerdale; the list endless, her voice unremitting. She would find something in every programme to set her off. But tonight Sarah had a different escape plan, tonight she had the diversion of thinking about Robert, Robert D’Lyn. Where had she seen that name?
*****
Crunching along the gravel path in her wellies, Stephanie watched the dogs leaping around each other, happiness radiating from their wet cold noses to their wagging tails. She thought over the conversation she had earlier with Sarah, and decided to risk phoning Robert, informing him she may have found someone with whom he would feel some connection. She was determined, they were so right for each other. Pressing the fast dial she put the phone to her ear smiling as she watched the dogs chasing each other, until a squirrel took their attention. Thankfully neither of them caught it this time. A few months ago one of them had carefully laid a squirrel at her feet and she had stared with tears in her eyes as it tried in vain to crawl up her leg before it died. His voice broke the image.
‘Steph.’
‘Hi Robby, wasn’t sure you’d be in.’ She was the only one who dared get away with calling him Robby.
‘Leaving in about an hour. How are you?’
‘Me, I’m fine. Look I’ve just had a chat with a lovely girl, and she’s keen to meet with you? I’d like to set it up?’
‘A little more info, please. Last time, remember?’
She refused to let her mind take her there, instead she persisted,
‘Sarah, her name is. She’s lovely. She’s very pliable. Naïve like you have never met before.’
‘Sounds promising. But are you sure about this one? Sure it’s what you want?’
‘Yes, oh yes. She’s lovely. I’m seeing her again next week, I’ll let you know what she says, and text you her number.’
‘Yea, OK. Speak to you then.’
Stephanie flipped the phone shut without bothering with the goodbye. He wouldn’t expect anything different. Putting the phone back in her pocket, she breathed the fresh air into her lungs and concentrated on her walk with the dogs. Her pace quickened as she relaxed into her step and whistling for the dogs to return, she heard them bounding through the undergrowth of ferns towards her. Picking up a couple of sticks, she threw them one each.
The last girl she had set him up with had been an unmitigated disaster and she still felt shocked at exactly how badly they had got on. The woman had presented to her with caring tendencies and had managed to completely repress her total hatred of the male species until meeting Robert. Stephanie guessed she had only agreed to the date in the first place because of his fame. It was what she banked on with all of them. And so far no one had disappointed her in their unfailing human fallacy of being impressed with fame and fortune.
She wondered if Sarah was the right person, or was this another mistake. She couldn’t afford to do that again. Luckily, last time the woman had decided for herself it was all wrong before anything happened, and had driven Robert back to his place.
He related to Stephanie with theatrical aplomb how the woman drove in silence from the pub, but on arriving at his home demanded to be let in to use the toilet, then left the house without saying goodbye leaving the front door open to the elements. It was not that Robert minded the absence of a farewell, on the contrary he was one to arrive or depart without a remark, but she left the house whilst he was in the kitchen and he had no idea she had gone. Swearing under his breath, he’d looked out the window, then swore louder realising he would not be able to see where she had parked her car. He’d had to search the house to make sure she hadn’t wandered off into some room or, heaven forbid to find the bedroom, before putting his shoes back on and walking all the way down the drive to see if she had indeed left.
A drop of rain landing on her nose broke Stephanie’s thoughts. She looked up at the sky; it was still mostly blue with just the one black cloud hanging over her. Pulling the hood of her parka up over her hair, she trudged on knowing she was in need of a good hour’s hike to walk and sweat the day out of her system if she wanted to make a good impression at the club tonight.
Just Like a Woman Page 2