‘I didn’t even know she had a dog.’ The mysterious world of Mrs Richardson – Bernadette – was opening up in front of Tara. ‘Did she bring Frank to her sessions?’

‘He was the breakthrough.’

‘Really?’ Tara seized the chance. ‘So how does that work? Dogs in consultations? It’s not something I’ve come across before.’

David swung on his chair. ‘I’ve found that encouraging clients to bring their pets along can be useful. Breaks tension, encourages empathetic projection, promotes honesty, lowers cortisol … lots of recognized benefits. I can send you some links, if you like?’

‘Please do.’ It came out more accusatory than she’d intended.

He stopped swinging on his chair, and looked at her. ‘Do you have a pet, Tara?’

‘No. Well, yes. Sort of. A cat.’

David tilted his head, as if she’d said something intriguing, and Tara managed to stop any of the thoughts stumbling through her brain from escaping. Never say anything intriguing in front of a counsellor, unless you’re paying them. She didn’t want to get on to the messy topic of Phil with a trained professional.

When nothing was forthcoming, he went on. ‘Jacqueline and I agreed on extra cleaning and sessions in the meeting room if other clients had allergy concerns. To avoid triggering anyone with a phobia, pets enter through the side entrance, and there’s a marker on the appointment calendar to make everyone else aware there’s an animal in the building.’

Oh. The red dots on some of David’s appointments. Tara had assumed they meant … actually, she’d noticed they were there, assumed they were for something and then forgotten to ask what.

‘Sorry.’ This wasn’t making her look very on top of things. ‘I’m still working my way through my inbox.’

‘Of course, I hear you’ve been very busy. It’s unorthodox, I know. But it works for me. And I’m always happy to discuss it.’ He smiled, and Tara felt like a school sneak who’d been put in her place.

‘Of course! Great! So, about those supervisions. I don’t know if you want to put a date in the diary now,’ she said, in an effort to match David’s effortless professionalism. ‘Obviously you can cancel it if you find someone else, but …’

‘Your time is precious, I know.’ David had already got his diary out. It was a little leather one, with a tiny pencil slotted down the spine.

‘I didn’t mean …’ Tara started, then stopped herself. Her time was precious. ‘How about Wednesday?’

CHAPTER THREE