“Yes. It was like that for me and Mark. We talked. I talked about myself and my anorexia. He made me laugh at myself. He never lectured or judged me. I almost felt normal. No, I did feel normal with Mark.” She was quiet for a moment, as if registering the full significance of what she’d said. “I love running. I always feel good after a run. But after running with Mark, I felt good and normal. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

“Mark’s sister was anorexic, but it wasn’t just that he understood the condition. He seemed to get me. Why I like running. Why I need to prove I can get better on my own—by controlling the illness.”

“He sounds like a good person. What makes you think you’ve blown it with him?”

“We stopped running. He lives somewhere else now. It’s probably silly of me to think about him. I don’t want to be alone all the time but that doesn’t mean I have to be with Mark. I mean it generally. I’ve been by myself a lot over the past three years. I think I’d like to try having friends again, people.”

“Well, yes. I’m sure Mark isn’t the only person who will get you, appreciate you, but he does sound important to you.”

Clare ignored her. “Also, I need to learn how to accept help,” she said.

Faye patted her arm. “I like that.”

“More than the idea of not being alone?”

“No. I mean, yes. It’s good that you don’t necessarily want to be alone. It’s just, well, it’s sort of contrary to what I’ve been thinking about recently.”

“Oh?”

“Pfft. I don’t want to bore you with my middle-aged ramblings. The thing is, Clare, you’re young. You have your whole life ahead. Don’t waste time thinking you can’t rectify the mistakes you’ve made. You don’t have to pay the price forever for making bad decisions. Also, the longer you allow your mistakes to go on, the harder it is to make amends, to fix them.”

A light breeze ruffled the leaves in the tallest trees, passing by like a sigh. The earthy scent of rotting wood was familiar now and, without the rain and with Faye at her side, Clare felt comforted, pain notwithstanding.

“That’s my experience, anyway,” said Faye.

“I can’t imagine you making mistakes. You’re always so calm. So together. I mean, look at how you’ve managed this. I can’t picture my mother in these circumstances—where there’s no one to do things for her and follow her instructions.”

Faye chuckled. “I’ve made mistakes. The worst of it is that people who knew me best warned me, tried to help, but I wouldn’t hear it. Don’t be like me, Clare. Listen. Accept help. Don’t leave it too late.”