‘It’s not your fault. I really wanted it to work, I know I’m reckless and self-sabotaging, I know. But I want to make myself better. It seems weird but I wanted to do it for you.’

I swallow hard. ‘That’s nice, Cormac. You’ve come a long way already. You’ve made progress.’

‘It’s not proper, I guess, but could I take you for a coffee sometime, as a thank you? No therapy, just a coffee.’

Say no, Margot. This is a clear boundary; psychologists must not socialise with clients. Another voice says, he’s not technically a client anymore. That’s hardly a viable defence if the medical practitioners board found out. But they won’t – how could they?

‘Just a coffee and a casual chat to say thanks, no pressure.’

I exhale. It feels like I would be letting him down if I don’t. Finally I say, ‘When were you thinking?’

‘Well, I was looking forward to seeing you today, but it’s probably too late.’

‘Today is fine. The day is almost over for me, so I can meet you after my next client.’

‘Oh, really? That would be great.’

I can feel myself letting go. I can feel myself giving in to something.

‘There’s a place near me, The Pearl.’

‘Sure, okay. I’ll be there at five-thirty.’

‘Perfect,’ he says. I can hear the smile in his voice. I hold the phone next to my ear even after we’ve hung up, contemplating in the silence what I have agreed to.

My next appointment goes too slowly. Willow is a borderline, a little like Xanthe except a couple of years older. Willow has a habit of keeping me over the end of her appointment. She is needy, with attachment issues, issues with her parents and no real friends.

But today she’s good. You’re always looking for signs in your clients, reading their body language and mood. Willow sits up, straight-spined, one knee across the other. I keep one eye on the clock the entire time. I can’t concentrate. I’m already there, meeting Cormac. When he said he wouldn’t be coming back it felt like a break-up, the same emptiness, the same longing. He, like Xanthe, has the type of unique psychological landscape that drew me to this field.

But what is this meeting? A goodbye? After my final appointment, as I quickly pack up my office, replacing the empty box of tissues, I find myself reminded of my father. Is Cormac like him? Is that why I feel like this?

‘Come on,’ I say to Anna who is still at her computer checking the schedule for tomorrow.

‘Oh, are you done?’

‘Getting away early,’ I say. Sensing my impatience, she quickly stands and pulls on her coat. I follow her out the door.