‘The bathroom’s to the left if you need it, and I’ve made you a cup of jasmine tea,’ she said, gesturing to a chunky pottery cup on the table. ‘If you think it sounds disgusting, I won’t be offended.’ She laughed. ‘We’ll just tip it down the sink and I’ll make you a coffee.’

‘No,’ I said, continuing my run of monosyllables. ‘Tea’s fine.’

Her bare shoulders sunk back against the velvet, wintry morning sun filtering through the slatted wooden blinds. I thought randomly of those grainy black-and-white photographs of Freud, peering out myopically from behind thick glasses. What kind of Instagram-friendly version of therapy was Amber offering? She smiled at me, head cocked, as if she could sense the defensive questions that were swirling inside my head.

‘I just think caffeine ramps up the nervous system, and you look like you need the exact opposite of that.’ Her voice was like a caress. ‘You need comfort. You need… you need to rest, don’t you, Rachel? Not sleep – rest. It’s very different.’

A lump rose in my throat, but I forced it back down, the memory of the sobbing mess I’d become the last time we met working like a cattle prod on my psyche. I had a budget meeting after this, a detailed discussion about joint ownership schemes in satellite towns. That girl – that pathetic version of me – was not welcome here.

A flash of Guy’s face, of my desperate hand clawing for a hold on his suit jacket. I sat down and took a sip of the jasmine tea. It was scalding hot, but I forced myself not to wince.

‘It’s delicious,’ I said stiffly.

‘I’m glad,’ she said, sinking further into the plump cushions with a confidence that they would melt and mould to meet her. Every particle of her exuded self-belief. Me – I sat up a little straighter, my spine taut. ‘How does it feel to be here, for us to be meeting again?’ she asked.

‘I’m happy to be here,’ I said. God, I sounded as unnatural as a politician on the back of a sex scandal, forced to read a prepared statement on the Six O’Clock News. ‘Thanks for making the time.’

‘You don’t have to thank me, Rachel. It’s a real pleasure to see you again.’

‘I know. It’s your job. I don’t need to thank you.’

She paused, a gentle smile playing across her face.

‘I’m going to repeat what I said, but this time I want you to try to actually hear it. It’s a real pleasure to see you again.’

I tried to smile back.

‘Thanks.’

She laughed, but not unkindly.