Aunt Viv drops me off outside a flat on Cambridge Gardens, Ladbroke Grove. She’s borrowed Jean’s battered old car. I turn to look at Louis, sitting on the backseat, none the wiser that his mum’s messed up and off to see a shrink.
I feel like a schoolchild as Aunt Viv tells me she’ll pick me up in an hour and a half. As I head towards the front door I sense her gaze, making sure I don’t change my mind and run off. When Stephanie Green opens the door, I hear the sound of the engine, a car driving away.
Stephanie Green is small, with pale skin and chestnut brown hair, strands tucked neatly behind both ears. She wears simple clothes and flat shoes, barely any make-up or jewellery. She leads me up a flight of stairs and gestures to a sofa covered with a checked throw and a coffee table stacked with a few glossy magazines, along with a bottle of Evian water and a couple of glasses. ‘Make yourself comfortable, I won’t be long.’
Alone, I fidget with the strap of my handbag, wondering what she’s going to ask me. My mind drifts to Matt. Would I be here if we were still together? Was I wrong to walk out on him when he’s about to face bankruptcy? Should I have understood why he lashed out at me? He was under huge pressure and I certainly didn’t help. I was a handicap. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt me. It was the worry and stress and … I curl my hand into a fist, trying to stamp out that persistent voice in my head as Stephanie calls me into her room.
*
‘Tell me about yourself, Polly,’ Stephanie asks, sitting comfortably in her black chair.
A big fat blank comes to mind. ‘I’m fine.’
She nods.
‘I have a son, Louis. I used to be a teacher.’
She asks me about my childhood.
Again nothing much comes to mind. ‘It was fine. My parents are still together.’
‘Do you have siblings?’
‘Hugo.’
‘What’s your relationship like with him?
‘We’re close.’
‘How are you feeling right this moment?’
‘Can you be more specific?’
‘I’m good.’
‘Your aunt was keen I see you. Can you think why she might be concerned about you?’
Silence.
‘I understand this is hard, Polly.’ She gives me time.
I look out of the window. ‘I’ve been drinking a lot. I’m not now.’
‘How much were you drinking?’
I was expecting this question. I halve it and don’t include the vodka. ‘About a bottle of wine a night, sometimes less.’
‘And what did that do for you?’ Her expression remains neutral.
‘Er, it helped me cope with stuff.’ I look down to my lap, can’t stop fidgeting with my hands. ‘Made me feel less lonely, I guess.’
‘What’s that loneliness about?’
‘I’ve messed up my life.’
‘What makes you feel that way?’
‘Where do I start?’ I blurt out. ‘Mum said I was always a rebel, I didn’t …’
‘Let’s put your mother’s voice to one side for now. Can you tell me how you think and feel?’
I can’t talk about feelings! My head is busy, working overtime, but I don’t know how to articulate a single sentence in this room. After another long silence Stephanie tells me not to worry. We go back to my childhood. ‘Tell me anything,’ she says. ‘The first thing that comes into your head.’
I end up telling her about rowing on the lake and visiting the sunken boat. I talk about Hugo, mentioning he’s partially sighted and went to a special school for the blind.
At the end of the assessment, Stephanie closes her notebook and takes off her glasses. ‘Polly, I have two rules when I see clients. The first is I won’t see someone who carries on drinking or using while they’re seeing me. The second is that it’s your choice to be sitting here, not your aunt’s or your mother’s, or Hugo’s. I have a gap in my diary. How does that sit with you?’
‘Good.’ I try to give more. ‘I’d like that.’
She nods. ‘Now, I need your GP to refer you to a psychiatrist. I know someone I think you’d like. Don’t worry, Polly,’ she says, registering my anxiety. ‘But it is important that you have a medical assessment. Don’t stop drinking until you’ve seen him, OK? It can be dangerous cutting drink out immediately. You’ll need to be weaned off and he might prescribe some medication to help. I’ll liaise with your psychiatrist and we’ll devise a care programme. How does that work for you?’
‘Good,’ I mutter
‘There’s one last thing I advise. Go to as many AA meetings as you can and get yourself a sponsor, preferably female.’
When Stephanie smiles she appears more human. ‘That’s the best possible start.’