She takes me in with an expression of mild disdain, then nods absentmindedly. ‘Oh. Right.’ She stands up abruptly, gathering her rose-patterned billowing scarf and padded purple velour jacket and pauses at the door for a moment as though there was one more thing she needed to say. I do sometimes wonder what she gets out of these sessions, she seems so in opposition to the therapy structure and the way I work. I make a mental note to ask her about this next time; maybe we should consider referring her on to a colleague with whom she has more personal chemistry. My Fridays are going to be wide open at this rate, if Leah has ghosted me and Siri were to see someone else.

I stand up and walk over to the window. The gloomy morning has given way to a beautiful afternoon with indigo skies streaked by pink gauzy clouds, and I wish I could sit by the sea, looking out over its calm surface, releasing all the nervous energy I feel pulsating beneath my skin. I have the strange sensation that if I were to slice my skin open, tension would flow out of me in thick, black bursts, like tar.

I think about what Siri said, about feeling trapped in a life you don’t want, no matter how privileged you might be. I can’t imagine a situation in which Eirik and I stayed married merely because we owned property and possessions together, a life in which we’d eat in silence, where we’d stopped caring about each other, or where he’d be courting other women, not even bothering to hide it. I feel a sharp bolt of anger and fear at the thought, followed by gratitude for the things in my life that are good.

I go back to my desk and check my phone and emails. Nothing from Leah, no explanation. It’s the start of another weekend, and she’ll be on my mind until I know what is going on with her. I go into my contacts list and select ‘Leah Iverson’, and click on ‘next of kin’. Listed is her mother, Linda Iverson, with a Swedish number.

Hi Linda,

I was wondering whether you are in touch with Leah. She’s missed a session with me which is unusual for her. I’m concerned for her well-being and wanted to make sure she is okay.

Best wishes, Dr Kristina Moss.

I’ve barely put the phone back down on my desk when it vibrates. It’s Leah’s mother.

She’s fine. I’ve spoken to her. Thanks, L.