‘The health insurance meant I could come in here.’ Chalkie gave me a bold smile. ‘Be the beneficiary of Rachel’s considerable wisdom, get three meals a day, a warm bed at night. But spare a thought for the poor scumbags nodding out on stairwells in the fla—’ He saw my face. ‘Soz. Yeah. You know, I think that it was just my time to stop. You don’t see till you see, you don’t hear till you hear. “The truth must dazzle gradually, Or every man be blind.” Emily Dickinson.’

Ella took in a short, gaspy breath. Her chin trembled as she stared, lovestruck, at Chalkie.

‘Yeh.’ Chalkie slanted a look at Giles. ‘What would someone like me know about poetry?’

‘Well, I—’

‘Ah, you’re all right, Gilesy man.’ Chalkie grinned. ‘I’m just fucking with you.’

Call me delusional, but I was sure there was affection in there somewhere.

Ella’s tears were now in full spate and Harlie was watching, her contempt visible.

I was concerned about Harlie—she seemed to have got bogged down in anger.

Usually, when the truth dawned on addicts, anger was one of the reactions. But people tended to move through it and on to grief, back-and-forthing between the two, often throwing some bargaining into the mix while they were at it. Harlie, however, had landed on anger, liked it and decided to stay.

Since her arrival, I hadn’t made her cry once, a failure that I felt keenly. What if I couldn’t get any further with her? Sometimes—very rarely, mind, but it had happened—people withstood everything I flung at them during their six weeks and left, still in the tight grip of their addiction. It was the worst. Obviously, I felt for the addict and all the people who loved them but—and this was shallow and shameful—I felt like a failure.

I wondered about trying again to get her friend Tegan’s parents to come in. Maybe if they talked to Harlie about their dead daughter, something would shift?

Meanwhile, Ella was still sobbing.

‘What’s up?’ I asked.

‘Nothing,’ she gasped. ‘Just happy that Chalkie is here. That he’s going to be okay.’

‘What about you? Are you happy you’re here? Happy you’re going to be okay?’

‘But I am okay.’

*

As they filed out at the end of group, Trassa, looking haunted, hung back.

‘Rachel. Would you know if…?’ She clutched my arm. ‘I’m thinking about Ronan.’

I waited. Her grip on my arm tightened and she leant close to me.

‘I’d be afraid’—her voice was hoarse—‘that Collie Byrne might hurt him.’

Still I waited.