‘My boyfriend was freaking out,’ Ella said. ‘So was my best friend—about the way I reacted to the tablets. They were all, You’re gonna end up dead.’ She said it in a funny voice and got a laugh from Dennis and Trassa. The rest, however, remained unimpressed. ‘I know I’m okay, but so they could stop fretting, it seemed easier to check in here.’

‘Would you like to tell your group the events that triggered everything?’ I said.

‘…Ah…Okay! So, yeah. Last February, like February a year ago, I was coming home from work. Late. So it was dark. I was walking from the Luas stop to my house and two people—men—just appeared and…and…’ Her head dropped to her chest and she whispered, ‘Sorry…’

‘Take your time, Ella.’

‘They grabbed me and…pulled off my backpack. Everything was in it, my phone, my purse, my laptop, all my work and stuff—’

‘Did they rape you?’ Dennis asked. Ever sensitive.

She lifted her head and stared at him. ‘No…But they hurt me and they scared the shit out of me.’ She looked in my direction. ‘Sorry for swearing.’

That was hilarious, her mannerly apology. In a matter of days, if she was like everyone else, her effing and blinding would be out of control.

In silence, I waited. I had a feeling Harlie would get this for me.

Sure enough, she swished her thick curtain of hair and asked, ‘Then what happened?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You’re not in rehab because you got mugged.’ Oh, the scorn. ‘What did you get addicted to?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Tablets,’ Harlie reminded her. ‘You said you were taking tablets. And your friends said, You’re gonna end up dead. So, what did you do?’

‘I stopped being able to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I, like, felt their hands on me and I was so scared. My doctor said I had PTSD…My GP gave me a prescription for sleeping tablets.’

‘And?’ Harlie demanded. ‘No one is in rehab because their doctor gave them a prescription.’

‘…Okay…’ Ella looked to me for guidance. I remained poker-faced. It was something I’d found very hard in the beginning—the whole impassive thing. My impulse was always to jump in and help them out. Left to my own devices, I’m a dyed-in-the-wool people-pleaser too.

‘So, yeah, a weird thing happened. I took my boyfriend’s car out for a drive one night last week. I’d taken my sleeping pill, I was in bed asleep, and it’s insane but I don’t remember doing it—’

‘You don’t remember driving the car?’ Harlie pounced.

‘That sometimes happens with these tablets.’ Ella was all earnest explanation. ‘In the US, there are court cases now. It’s the fault of the pills.’

‘Did you get home safely that night?’ I asked.

‘Um, no. So I drove the car into a wall—’