‘Okay. So I’d like you to start writing your life story,’ I passed her a printout. ‘This is a template. As you can see, we’d like particular emphasis on your relationship with drugs.’

‘But I’m not a—’

‘But do it anyway.’

‘Sure!’ She was so perky and positive. ‘Why not?’

‘You can head back to the dining hall and I’ll see you in group in fifteen minutes.’

*

No sooner had I secured the best seat in the Abbot’s Quarter than Ella tumbled in, commandeered by Giles. No surprise there, he womanized as automatically as breathing.

Singling out my wonky-legged chair from Wednesday morning, he instructed Ella, ‘Avoid that seat at all costs. And that one too. This is fine, though.’

Almost as soon as she was seated, Dennis barrelled through the doorway. Here less than a week, he already had ‘his’ chair; he stopped short at the sight of Ella sitting in it. Ella—keenly attuned to the moods of others—sprang up. ‘Sorry! Is this your spot?’

Dennis, with his bone-deep need to be loved, declared, ‘Not at all, not at all,’ somehow managing to convey that yes, it most certainly was his chair, but he was such an extraordinarily decent skin that he’d let her have it and welcome.

‘Sit down, sit down, sit down.’ He waved and, with a shy, ‘Thanks,’ she did.

Next to arrive was Chalkie, then Harlie—and the energy in the room changed. She and Ella assessed each other and some vibe flashed between them. It was obvious that Harlie thought Ella, with her freckles and wayward, natural hair, was pathetic. And Ella thought Harlie, with her hair extensions and elaborate make-up, was ridiculous.

It was instant mutual hate.

‘Ella,’ I opened with, ‘can you introduce yourself?’

‘Mmm, yeah, I’m…My name is Ella, from Waterford originally, live in Dublin now and I’m mummy to the best cat in the world.’

‘Any dogs?’ Dennis asked. ‘I’ve a lot of respect for cats, but…do you ever think your fella is judging you? A dog wouldn’t care what you did but a cat—’

‘Not at all. Mooch is awesome, he—’

‘Jeeeeezus,’ Harlie hissed.

‘Excuse me?’ Ella’s tone was sharp—which made Chalkie smile. Which, in turn, made Ella focus on him and his blue-eyed charisma, then flush slightly.

‘Ella,’ Roxy interrupted. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Sorry.’ She giggled and went a darker pink. She was lovely, very charming. ‘I could talk cats all day. So, it’s crazy, I had a weird reaction to medication. Prescribed medication. By a doctor.’

‘But…?’ Dennis asked.