I get up but almost immediately sit back down – the feeling of restlessness since the weekend hasn’t quite left me. I make myself focus on the notes on the screen in front of me. I need to jot down a few notes about today’s clients, as well as get in touch with a couple of GPs with regards to clients’ medication – I like to stay informed and updated in the cases where someone might be taking mood-altering medication in addition to psychotherapy.

I look up Leah’s phone number in my client list, and compare it to the unknown numbers that called me last night. The last one was hers. Where was she when she called? What was she doing in those long minutes she had me on the line? I imagine her in bed, sobbing in the dark, her beautiful face twisted in a grimace of pain, the bruises on her face starting to fade from indigo to pale violet and sickly yellow.

I open my calendar, which is busier than usual, with two new clients starting and a few extra sessions requested by established clients, but I do have a couple of free slots, one this afternoon and one on Wednesday. I hope Leah will take one of them. I redial her number, but it goes straight to voicemail without ringing. I try again, with the same result. It’s still early, only just gone 8 a.m. I don’t imagine she gets up early, as an author working from home; I don’t assume she would have anywhere to be this early. I’ll email instead, and she can get in touch when it suits her.

To: [email protected]

Subject: Sessions

Hi Leah,

I wanted to check in with you after Friday; you’ve been on my mind. How are you doing? I know you called me last night; do try again, if you like. I also wanted to let you know that I have a couple of free slots available this week, if you’d like some extra support. I can easily add an extra session or two to your therapy scheme with your GP, so you won’t be billed – let me know.

All best,

Kristina