Hotly, I said, ‘Do you really think Luke would break up with Kallie, sell his practice, sell his home, upend his life and relocate to Ireland after one night with me?’
Coolly, Claire raised her eyebrows. The seconds ticked away as her silent appraisal began to feel uncomfortable. ‘Do you?’ she asked. Then, in more urgent tones, ‘Do you, Rachel?’
‘I don’t think it might ever be … anything. It was a one-off. Knowing I’ve probably caused Kallie untold pain, I’m ashamed. But I still wouldn’t change that night with him.’
‘Why? Apart from the obvious?’
‘It’s fixed something. My bitterness is gone. It’s changed how I feel about Yara. I can’t describe it exactly because the loss is still there but it’s not as … ugly?’
‘Is that what you meant by “the click”？’
‘Exactly. The price is high, it means doing without Quin. And living with a hefty side order of guilt and shame about him and Kallie. But …’ I let my hands fall. ‘Not all is lost. Luke’s trying to be my friend, I’m trying to be his. I’d like to give that a go. Tell me, how are things with Adam?’
‘I hate him. He hates me. I fancy him more than I have in decades. We keep having sex. It’s angry. It’s horrible. But sexy. I’ve always wanted to have angry sex and now I’m having it.’ Doubtfully, she said, ‘Which is good.’ Then ‘… I guess.’
82
Work was as intense as ever and while I was there, I managed to give it my all. One by one, my ducklings left. Trassa had been replaced by an obscenely wealthy young coke addict called Kael. Three days later, Harlie departed; in her stead we got Celeste, a gilet-wearing alcoholic, armoured with weapons-grade respectability. Dennis had been next to go. And today, three weeks later than originally scheduled, my beloved Chalkie was off.
My phone beeped with a text – from Taryn, my ‘hiking friend’。 Rachel, when would be a good time to call?
Oh God. The holiday Quin and I had booked to Transylvania, with Taryn and Timothy. I’d been putting off dealing with it …
But I needed to be an adult so I took a breath and picked up my phone. ‘Taryn?’
‘Rach. Quin sent a message,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve broken up.’
‘Thanks. I know, it’s –’
‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m okay. Honestly. I guess we need to talk about the –’
‘– trip. Quin says he’s giving you custody. He means he won’t be going, but that you still should.’
Suddenly it hurt to breathe. I felt such sadness for Quin, for both of us, that all that affection and connection had just … collapsed.
‘Rach …？’ Taryn asked.
‘Just. Let me take a moment …’
Here were the facts and they were unpleasant: we’d already paid half the cost. It was non-refundable. More importantly, this trip was my project. I’d blithely gone ahead and booked our accommodation in daringly out-of-the-way places – I couldn’t abandon Taryn and Timothy.
And I had wanted to go – in a way, I still did. Ted probably wouldn’t let me change my dates off – our annual leave got locked in early – so I might as well spend it in the stunning beauty of Transylvania instead of sitting at home, the curtains drawn, watching Below Deck with Crunchie.
‘On paper, this seems awkward,’ Taryn said. ‘But I think the three of us would still get a lot out of it.’
‘You’re absolutely right,’ I said. ‘The three of us are going and we will have a magical time.’
Buoyed by that positivity, I switched off my phone and took Chalkie to an interview room for our last one-to-one. And it was so encouraging. He’d gleaned a huge amount of new information about himself during his time here; somehow he’d gone way deeper than he ever had before.
After we’d role-played some situations where he’d have to manage his anger or grief, we stood to say goodbye.
‘You know how fond of you I am,’ I said. ‘But I do not want to see you ever again.’
‘But’， he said, with a sweet twinkle, ‘you might.’
At my startled silence, he prompted, ‘Right?’
In my five years in the Cloisters, this had never happened before.
‘You’re in recovery, amirite?’ he prompted.
I laughed. ‘Yeah.’ There wasn’t much point denying it.
‘Down through the years, a lot of good, hard-working people have tried to help me. You’re the one who broke me open.’