‘I wanted to ask you… Do you remember, we were having a few problems with Rachel?’ Deborah’s daughter Olivia was a contemporary of Sophie’s, so Rachel was less familiar to her. ‘And you passed on a number for Amber Greville, that therapist?’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ she said. ‘How is Rachel?’

‘She’s great,’ I said, words almost overlapping hers, then instantly regretted the way I’d boxed myself in. ‘But we wanted to learn a little bit more about Amber. Qualifications, you know.’ I gave a brittle little laugh that rung in my ears like I imagined tinnitus might. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t buy driving lessons for your kids from a random bloke in a Skoda. I just want to reassure myself she’s the real deal and she doesn’t have much detail on her website.’

‘But Rachel’s doing better, it sounds like?’

‘Yes.’ I stared at the willow tree that grew outside the square window, its branches blowing about in the wind, trying to force down my impatience. ‘I just wanted to know where you found out about her. Do you know anyone who’s actually been treated by her?’

Deborah gave an irritating laugh.

‘Trip Advisor reviews, that kind of thing? I don’t think Amber quite works like that. You’re lucky you got Rachel in to see her. She’s pretty selective. I nearly didn’t even bother giving you the number.’

‘Have you, or any of your family and friends, ever been treated by Amber Greville?’ I said, my words staccato.

I heard Deborah inhale. There were a couple of years we were on the PTA together – she was hopelessly indecisive as I recall, always leaving me to steer the ship while she flapped about ‘considering all angles’. Stay-at-home mothers are woefully inefficient in my experience.

‘My niece was struggling with anorexia,’ she said. ‘I’d say Amber brought her back to the light. She’s thriving now; she’ll be graduating from Exeter this year.’

Back to the light. Somebody had most certainly drunk Amber’s sickening Kool-Aid.

‘Right. And would her parents agree with that assessment, do you think?’

Another testy pause.

‘What are you actually getting at, Lily?’ snapped Deborah. ‘I’m happy to help you, but you have to tell me what it is you need. We all like Amber very much – she actually saw Olivia briefly too, after she graduated – but she’s unconventional. Maybe you’d be happier with someone who’s more by the book.’

So, it was my lack of bohemian free spirit that had landed me in this mess?

‘Forget it,’ I snapped. ‘You’ve been very helpful already. Thanks again.’

Before I hung up, Deborah got in her parting shot.

‘Amber might not be right for you, but it sounds like she’s right for Rachel. Don’t you think that’s what matters, Lily?’