“I think I’d like it. I want to try.”

“You’re not a runner?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, I—”

“I tell you what: I’ll meet you for a run this afternoon and if I can’t keep up with you or you hate having me for company, I’ll never ask to join you again.”

She agreed and told him where and what time he should meet her. She was surprised when he arrived beneath the tree promptly. He was wearing boardshorts and tennis shoes. They ran for an hour, Mark talking practically non-stop the entire time. When they arrived back at the tree, Clare felt she knew him.

“I’m sorry for you,” he said, only mildly breathless, “but I really enjoyed that. Can we do it again sometime?”

Clare nodded.

“Excellent. Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

She waved and he turned to go, but changed his mind, stopped and looked back at her. “You know, my older sister was anorexic years ago. There’s no way she could have run like you do.”

“Is that why you want to run with me? Because you find it fascinating that I’m up to it?”

“No. I mean, yes, I do find it interesting. Hey, you’re interesting. But that’s not why I want to run with you.”

She tipped her head.

“I want to run and I don’t want to do it on my own,” he said.

“So, join a club.”

“I just did. The Clare Club. See you tomorrow!”

Although she didn’t describe her shame in detail to Mark, she didn’t hide everything from him either; not the way she did with others. Perhaps because of his sister, he was perceptive and understanding without her having to explain. In fact, he was the only other person—besides her mother—who Clare told about her reverse-anorexia approach. Initially, although his arguments differed, Mark was as dubious about it as Michelle had been.

“Hmm, ja,” he said. “I can see why your mother is not convinced. The thing with anorexia, unlike illnesses like, say, depression and obsessive compulsive disorder, is that sufferers typically spend a lot of their time not actually wanting to get better. Even when they recognise they’re ill, they cling to the illness.”

“But—”

“I’m not saying that’s what you’re doing. But it could be what your mother believes when you try to explain you’re going to continue using what drives your anorexia to get better. She might find it hard to believe.”

“She does.”

They were quiet as they ran up a short, steep hill. Mark continued on the descent.

“Also, what worries me about your approach is you’re not addressing the actual problem,” he said. “In a way, you’re reinforcing it. I mean, your problem is you’re addicted to control, isn’t it? By controlling yourself even more, if that’s possible, you’re affirming your behaviour is okay.”