Aoife’s whimpering breaks the silence. She stirs in the bed, lifting her face off the pillow. I remember how terrible it was when I first arrived here, especially the first weekend before I was given weekend release. It wasn’t the fact that I was alone in the room. I liked that bit because it was the only time I felt I wasn’t being watched. That every little thing I did wasn’t being noticed, recorded and analyzed. But the realisation that I was only at the start of this barbaric journey was frightening. The months ahead were going to be painful and there was a lot of doubt in my mind as to whether I’d be strong enough for it.

‘Don’t worry, Aoife, you’ll be getting weekend release soon. You’ll get to see whoever it is you are missing.’

I want to ignore the fact that I can hear her crying into her pillow. It’s impossible to comfort everyone in here every time they cry. I do my best. I have put my arm around her a few times and told her things would get better, like Joanne did for me. It never really cures anything or helps anything but in that moment, when you feel the heat of another broken soul embrace you, you’re happy to bathe in hopeless comfort.

Oh damn it. I can’t leave her like that.

I move away from the window and over to Aoife’s bedside where I lie down beside her and rest my head on her pillow.

‘You know what we should do, Aoife? This time next year we should meet up. Somewhere beautiful. Somewhere with trees and birds and blue skies and hot coffee and people walking their dogs. We should meet and talk and be proud of ourselves. We’ll know we’ve made it, but we won’t mention it, Aoife. We won’t talk about what it took for us to get to that beautiful place. We’ll just be happy to be there, to be meeting up.’

Aoife sniffles, lifts her head and looks at me. ‘You promise?’

‘I promise, Aoife. This time next year.’

Chapter Fifty-Five

When I get back to the room later that evening, Aoife isn’t lying on her bed as per usual and that immediately raises a red flag but I guess maybe she’s gone to an early group session or is still in the dining room. I throw my notebook onto the bed and turn around to find Nurse Catherine standing there.

Her eyes are fixed on me and she doesn’t look her usual happy self. Something is wrong. Has something happened to Aoife? Is that why she’s not here?

‘Where’s Aoife?’ I say. ‘Is she okay?’

‘Aoife’s fine.’

‘Is something wrong?’

‘I need you to give me a sample, Faye,’ she says, handing me the container with the yellow lid.