Tara’s chest relaxed, and she realized she’d been expecting David to ask her about her childhood. Usually when she sat on a therapist’s sofa she ended up talking about her parents. Never fun. She made an effort to drop her shoulders from their current position somewhere around her ears.

‘What? Living with me? About two months.’ Sybil was sitting up in her carrier, staring out as if she knew what was going on. ‘Although I’ve known her a bit longer than that.’

‘Uh-huh. How much longer?’

Immediately Tara felt herself squirming. When did you date a relationship from? First date? First night together? First time you meet his parents? Because they weren’t quite there yet. But they were definitely in a relationship; it just wasn’t appropriate for her to be advertising it over social media.

She knew she was fudging it. ‘Er, maybe … a year.’

‘OK. She’s a very beautiful girl.’

His soothing hypnotherapist tone was starting to annoy Tara. How on earth could David even see Sybil? She was a black cat in a dark cat basket. ‘Are you trying to butter her up? Because I can tell you it doesn’t work. I’ve tried.’

‘Not at all.’ He tapped his pen against his notebook. ‘Just an observation. What would you say are the things you like best about Sybil?’

Tara struggled to think. ‘I don’t know. She’s … pretty low maintenance. I’m assuming she scares the mice away from the house with her cat smell? And Hero would say she’s lucky. Black cat crossing my path several times a day.’

‘That’s it?’

‘What? What else can she do? Cats aren’t exactly sparkling conversationalists. And they never get the shopping in. Bloody freeloaders.’

‘Most pet owners talk about companionship, or the cute personality traits their cats have.’ He drew vague circles in the air with his hand. ‘How they picked them out from the other cats in the …’ David’s voice trailed off as if his attention had been caught somewhere else.

‘I didn’t pick her out,’ said Tara. Was he even listening to her? ‘I did tell you that I’m looking after her for my boyfriend. He’s got builders working in his house – Sybil was getting in the way, so he thought it was safer for me to look after her.’

David didn’t speak but tilted his head in a ‘go on’ fashion. Tara, marooned on the confessional clients’ sofa, heard herself adding, ‘He’s having an attic conversion.’

She closed her mouth tightly. She didn’t want to give David easy cat-reading clues; she hadn’t told him how much she enjoyed hearing Sybil purr at night, or the haughty voice Tara supplied for her when she demanded her dinner. Or that the act of asking her to look after his cat had felt like a Significant Moment for her and Phil, which was the main reason she’d agreed.