Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely - Gail Honeyman Page 0,113
haven’t spoken much about the fire. I wonder . . . are you happy to talk a bit about it?”
I nodded, warily.
“Good. Now, can you try closing your eyes for me, please, Eleanor? Sometimes it’s easier to access memories that way. Take a deep breath in, and then let it all out. Great. And another . . . good. Now, I want you to think back. You’re at home, and it’s the day before the fire. What do you remember? Anything? Take your time . . .”
I’d been feeling so light and free earlier, so centered in myself, that I hadn’t had a chance to prepare myself properly for this. As I closed my eyes and exhaled to Maria’s count, I had the worrying realization that, before I was even properly aware of it, my brain was off accessing memories in places I didn’t want it to go, scurrying into rooms before I’d had a chance to block them off. My body felt heavy, in contrast to my mind, which floated, balloon-like, just beyond my reach. Now that it was happening, though, I accepted it with equanimity. There was a certain pleasure in ceding control.
“Mummy. She’s angry. Mummy was sleeping but we’ve woken her up again. Mummy’s had enough of us now.” I feel tears on my cheeks as I relate this, but I don’t feel particularly sad. It’s as though I’m describing a film.
“That’s great, Eleanor, you’re doing really well,” Maria said. “Can you tell me more about Mummy?”
My voice is tiny. “I don’t want to,” I say.
“You’re doing great, Eleanor. Let’s try to keep going. So, about Mummy . . . ?”
I said nothing for the longest time, allowing my mind to wander where it needed to go in that house, letting the memories out like trapped birds. Finally, I whispered. Two words.
“Where’s Marianne?”
34
Sunday. I had to leave the house at twelve to meet Raymond for lunch. Glen was dozing in her new bed, and I used the camera function on my mobile telephone to take some more shots of her. In the final picture, she had one paw covering her eyes as if to block out the light. I knelt down on the floor beside her and buried my face in the biggest patch of fur. She wriggled slightly, then increased the volume of her purring. I kissed the softness on the top of her head.
“See you later, Glen,” I said. “I won’t be long.” She appeared blissfully untroubled by my imminent departure.
When I was ready to leave, I opened the door as quietly as I could and tiptoed into the living room to check if she was still asleep. I found her on top of the giant catnip-stuffed mouse, both she and the rodent facing me, its glazed button eyes staring straight ahead. She had her front paws thrown over its mousy shoulders and was lazily kneading them while she humped it energetically from behind. I left them to it.
Ever since the session, all I could think about was Marianne. Marianne Marianne Marianne; I turned the name over and over in my mind like a coin between my fingers. Dr. Temple had asked me to prepare myself to talk about her again in our next session. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Is knowing always better than not knowing? Discuss.
Raymond, untroubled by philosophical questions, was already there when I arrived at the Black Dog, reading the Sunday Mail and sipping a pint.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said.
His face was paler than usual, and when he stood up to hug me, I could smell old as well as new beer, in addition to the usual reek of cigarettes.
“How’s it going?” he said, his voice sounding scratchy.
“How are you?” I said. He didn’t look well.
He groaned. “I nearly texted you to cancel, to be honest,” he said. “Had a bit of a late one last night.”
“Did you and Laura go on a date?” I said.
He boggled at me. “How on earth did you know that?” he asked, sounding incredulous.
I remembered something I’d seen Billy do in the office, and tapped the side of my nose with my index finger knowingly.
He laughed. “I think you might have a bit of witch in you, Eleanor,” he said.
I shrugged. I even had a black cat now to prove it.
“I bumped into Laura a while back, actually,” I explained. “She told me you were seeing each other.”