‘I want to look at you,’ he says, reaching underneath me to unfasten my bra.

‘But someone might see . . .’ I lamely protest, already abandoning myself to the tingling sensation of his tongue.

‘If there’s anyone out there,’ he says, daring to stop, to look at the inky blackness beyond the window. ‘Then they can have a ringside seat.’

7

I should have slept soundly with Leon by my side, but my night was punctuated by nightmares that had me calling out in fear. The vivid intensity of how real they felt is already fading, but I can still remember my relief at seeing my father in a prison cell in my dreams, dispelling the rumour that he’d been released. I’d walked towards him, full of bravado and satisfaction that he would never see the light of day for what he’d done. But as I drew nearer, he’d put his head through the bars, looking like Jack Nicholson in The Shining, and prised them apart with his bare hands.

I’d turned and run – straight into my sister, who stood there with a demonic look on her face, blocking my escape. Her eyes were black, devoid of emotion, and as she parted her lips a swarm of wasps flew out of her mouth.

I’d woken myself up with a scream and vaguely remember a hand on my shoulder, gently reassuring me, though in my warped slumber I thought it was Jacob lying beside me.

Now, I instinctively reach out across the bed, willing Leon to be there, even if just to assuage the guilt and shame coursing through my veins, making me feel as if I’ve done something terribly wrong. But the sheets are empty and cold.

Blinking at the sun streaming brightly through the curtains, I rub the sleep from my eyes, as I try to remember who my first client is. But I can’t even work out what day it is yet, let alone who’s coming to see me. I’m normally so organized and always check what I’m doing the day before, just in case I need to prepare anything, but yesterday was . . . well . . . unexpected.

Despite trying to keep my mind devoid of thought, yesterday’s problems run amok as the hot water from the shower falls onto my head. With each vying for attention, I can’t help but lament how this time yesterday, I had so little to worry about. I was secure in the knowledge that my father was still behind bars, that my sister was no more aware of me than she ever was, and that Jacob saw me as nothing more than his psychotherapist.