We were just coming into Brisbane when Nana Lilith’s phone went. It might be one of their friends. It might be…But no, what I was hearing wasn’t one side of a friend-type conversation.

‘Yes, this is Lilith Sherwin. Oh, that’s wonderful. Tonight at six? Thank you so much. It’s very kind of you.’

There was no escape. The counsellor was going to stay late as a special favour to Nana.

Great.

We went to the friends’ place. They practically fell on us, they were so grateful – their dog-sitter had had a last-minute crisis and cancelled. While they raved to the grandparents I made friends with the dog.

‘What’s her name?’ I asked.

The man dropped to his haunches to rub the dog’s ears. ‘This is our Lolly. You’re gorgeous, aren’t you, girl?’

Lolly was a fine-boned Doberman, shiny black. She stared in disbelief when the man jumped up, said, ‘Bye, Lolly. See you in a week,’ and strode out the door with the suitcases.

I put my arms around her. ‘It’s okay, Lolly. We’ll look after you.’ I rubbed her ears and I reckon if she’d been a cat she’d have purred.

I played with that dog for the rest of the afternoon. We went for a walk around the neighbourhood and I didn’t once worry about snakes or shakes. I was cured. All I needed was a dog.

The grandparents had other ideas. I had to leave Lolly behind when Nana drove me to the appointment. I didn’t moan, I knew how to be polite.

I can do this. I’ve lived through thousands of earthquakes. I can survive one lousy counselling session.

Dr James Moran was ancient. He looked like a wild man from the bush. He greeted me with a firm handshake and a casual grin. ‘So, young Lyla – I’m told you’re not a fan of counselling.’

Great intro, Dr James. I gave him a weak smile. ‘I’m grateful you could fit me in. It’s very kind of you.’

‘Ooh,’ he said. ‘Liar liar pants on fire! You’re hating every moment.’

What sort of doctor was he? And who was dumb enough to give him those fancy-looking certificates on the wall?

He laughed and waved me to a chair. ‘Have a seat. That’s the girl. Now, how about you say what you’re really feeling about being here?’

I shook my head. ‘You don’t want to know. The grandparents would be mortified.’

He settled back in his chair and stuck his feet on the coffee table between us. ‘I do want to know, and they’re not here. So let fly.’

Really? Well, he asked for it. ‘I don’t want to go back and re-live all that stuff by talking about it. I’m okay if I just keep going. If I don’t think about it I can cope.’

I was surprised when he nodded. ‘Yes, your gran told me you’ve been brilliant. A stalwart of the street, and particularly a life-saver for your immediate neighbour and her children.’

Now he was just sitting there looking at me. ‘What?’

‘Let’s not talk about the quakes. We’ll talk about right now. Talk about what it’s like being in Lyla’s body at this moment.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t want to be here.’

That earned me a good girl, but then he said, ‘Tell me what that feels like.’

‘Bad. It feels bad.’

‘What sort of bad?’

I so didn’t want to. ‘It’s hard to breathe. I can’t sit up straight.’ I was trying not to start howling all over his stupid office.

‘What else?’ asked my tormentor.

The tears started. Oh please, not another slushy session. He pushed over a box of tissues and just sat there till I calmed down enough for him to fire more questions at me.

‘Tell me what that was all about.’

‘I don’t know. I just don’t know.’ I was so tired. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to sleep with Lolly the Doberman curled up on the bed beside me.

It seemed I’d said that out loud. He said, ‘What would that feel like? To be in bed with the dog beside you?’

I sighed. ‘Safe. It would feel safe, like nothing bad could happen.’

‘Your world hasn’t felt like that for a long time now?’

‘No.’ Such a dumb question.

‘Tell me about that.’

‘Do I have to?’ Apparently I did have to. ‘I’ve been fine. I know what to do when a quake hits. I’m the one who keeps calm. Mum and Dad made me go to counselling and that’s what started all this horrible stuff.’

I hoped he’d defend counselling and leave me alone. No such luck. ‘How have you been feeling these last months?’

I shrugged. ‘It’s hard. You’ve no idea what it’s like living in a broken city – always waiting for the next aftershock.’

‘No, I haven’t. You’re quite right. So tell me what that’s like.’

Okay, I walked right into that. ‘It’s crap. Everybody’s jumpy. We all laugh and crack jokes, but underneath it all we’re like the ground – shaky.’

‘What about you? Are you jumpy even though you laugh and crack jokes? Do you feel shaky and unstable? Do you feel that nothing in your life is safe or dependable any longer?’

I could only nod. ‘There’s no safe place. Not anymore.’ I lifted my head to look him straight in the eye. ‘And there never will be ever again.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘The world isn’t a safe place. How about we talk about ways you can live with that?’

‘If you want.’ Whatever. Just let me out of here.

He didn’t say anything, and when I looked up he was sitting there in his stupid chair with his stupid feet up on the stupid coffee table staring at me.

‘What?’

‘Lyla, this session isn’t about what I want. I’m not the one who has to go back home to a place where I’m always braced for the next quake, where I never feel safe, where others are depending on me to be strong.’

‘All right! Tell me how to live with it.’ He wouldn’t be able to, I knew that right down to my bones.

‘I can’t cure you…’

Ha! I knew counselling was useless, but at least he was honest. I went to get up, but plopped down again when he said, ‘What I can do is help you understand why you feel crap and give you a few things to help you live more peacefully in your unstable world.’

‘Does that mean I don’t have to talk about what it was like? I don’t have to remember it all over again?’

‘No. Later you might find it helpful to do that, but not right now.’

I breathed out, relaxing for the first time in months. ‘Okay. That sounds good. I’d like that.’

That earned me a grin and another good girl. He talked about how the quakes were hard to deal with because they were ongoing. ‘It’s like having a bad burn that keeps on getting scorched. It’s always there and you’re always braced for the next shock. That means that anything can set off the amygdala part of your brain, that’s the bit that’s responsible for memory, emotions and survival instincts. If something triggers it, it goes into the fight-or-flight response. Heart racing, breathing difficult, sick feeling.’

‘You mean it’s natural to get…like that when a plane goes over? Or there’s a truck out on the road?’ I was so ashamed of panicking over nothing.

‘Indeed it is, so you need to know how to take care of yourself. We’ll look at how to do that next time.’ He sat up and planted his feet on the floor. ‘What’s happening with you is what’s sometimes called an amygdala hijack. I’ll send Lilith a link. She says you’re not short on brains, so jump online and read up on it. You’ll find it’ll help to know what you’re experiencing is pretty common and that it’s treatable.’

I got back to find an email from Mum. After the how are you darling bit there were newsy bits. The Jaffries’ house had been demolished. The Chans’ place would be next, then Prof’s and lastly the Nagels’. Candace Nagel rang again to tell us to retrieve her list of stuff. Hope she doesn’t turn up to do it herself. Wouldn’t be a good look to whip the handcuffs on her. Tempting, though!

So. My street would be different when I got home from how it was when I left. The old amygdala went into orbit. I sat on the couch with Lolly, holding her and stroking her till my heart rate settled.

If I was losing it, I wasn’t going to read about it. No cure, no point.