Bad Sister(37)

‘I guess.’ She turned to look at Dylan. ‘It’s really hard to put mine and Dylan’s lives into other people’s hands. I thought I might get some control over what happens to me once I settled here. Stupid, aren’t I?’

‘Not at all. Of course you want to gain control, that’s what these sessions are for, to give you the tools in order to achieve that. We’ll get there, Steph.’

Steph smiled. ‘I hope so, Connie. I really hope you’re right this time.’





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX


Connie


The lilac air freshener mixed with the scent of the fresh-cut grass diffuser as Connie sprayed it all around the room. Now it smelled of public toilets. Oh, God. Stepping over Dylan’s pictures, she reached the window latch and threw the window open as wide as it would go. She sucked in the fresh air, then bent to pick up the paper and pens, shoving them all in her desk drawer before retreating from the room. She’d have a coffee and sit in the reception room, give it a bit of time to clear. Hopefully, by the time her next client arrived in about ten minutes, it would smell fine.

Poor Steph. For her to be using cannabis again meant she’d taken a big backwards step. Connie placed a cup under the coffee maker, the bubbling liquid replacing the smell of air freshener. Why did she have the sinking feeling that her sessions with Steph were only scratching the surface and what she really needed was more intense therapy? Certainly more than what Connie was currently offering. Perhaps she could take Steph on as a private client after the agreed sessions that the protected persons scheme had paid for concluded. Connie was engaged in Steph’s life now, felt committed to helping her and ensuring her safety. She’d happily do them for a reduced rate – free even, seeing as Steph was surviving on state benefits.

For the time being she would have to carry on as planned. She hoped Miles would come back to her soon and she’d be able to confidently reassure Steph that Brett was not a threat. That he was still in custody, or at the very least under strict probation terms so that it was impossible for him to be here, in Totnes. One issue would be resolved, then Connie could concentrate on the next. Like the fact she’d now have to tell Miles about the man she’d seen watching Steph. If it was someone selling her drugs, then Miles should know about it – the last thing Steph needed was to get in with another set of drug users, or worse, dealers. One by one, though, Connie felt sure they could overcome, or manage, each of Steph’s anxieties. For Dylan’s sake, as well as her own, Steph needed to move forwards now and put her traumatic past behind her.

Connie gave a snort. Putting the past behind you. Like she had done? And what good had that done her? Now that very past was fighting its way back into her consciousness; her present. And not by her own doing. She’d never forgotten Luke, though. She’d chosen her profession because of what had happened to him. If she could do something to help others avoid going through the loss of their child, sibling, or friend, then something good would’ve come from his death. That’s what she’d convinced herself.

Did she really believe that?

The phone rang in her office. She ran up the stairs, but it’d gone to answerphone before she reached it. She waited for the message.

‘Hello, love. It’s your mum.’ Why did she always say that? Connie would obviously know who it was. The moment stretched; her mum silent. Connie shook her head, smiled. She knew her mum was waiting for an answer; she really didn’t seem to get the whole answer machine thing. After every sentence, she paused, waiting for Connie to speak, even though she knew she wasn’t actually speaking with her daughter.

‘Just been speaking with your dad, he was down this way, did you know?’ The pause was so great this time that Connie thought she must’ve put the phone down. She tutted, and picked up the receiver.

‘Oh, you’re there, dear.’

‘Yes, sorry about that, Mum, the machine kicked in before I could reach the phone. You were saying, Dad is here?’

‘Well, he was here. I thought he might’ve been in contact with you.’

‘Nope. Heard nothing from him.’ She yanked her hand through her hair, angrily. Typical. Her dad had been in Devon and couldn’t be bothered to call her; pay her even a fleeting visit? ‘But you said you’d just been speaking to him, and did I know! You clearly knew he hadn’t been in contact if you’d been talking to him.’ She regretted her harsh tone the second she spoke, but, really, why was she telling her this now?

‘Um, well … I didn’t really ask him. He was telling me all about his new project – he’s going to diversify apparently – he seemed so excited, had to rush back to Manchester.’

‘Right, fine.’ Connie wasn’t the slightest bit interested in what that meant, exactly. ‘No time for his family, then.’ Her mum had caught her in just the right mood. She was up for questioning her. ‘Anyway, why did Dad run back to Manchester in the first place all those years ago, I thought he was meant to be retiring?’

‘Ah. Well, you know your dad. Always wanting to be in the thick of things, this quiet life wasn’t for him.’

‘He’s still working all the hours, then?’ Connie’s bitterness at her dad for spending more time building his antiques import and export business than sharing time with them wasn’t ever far from the surface.