Della Fitzpatrick came into the kitchen with a tongue like rush matting. Two empty bottles of her favourite Durakis red wine stood by the sink. Could she have emptied them herself last night? Surely not. The scary thing was that she couldn’t recall doing so. Perhaps she had had a visitor.
Now there was a full day of Pilates and a session of reflexology, but who with? She consulted the wall chart to see that Kelly Partridge wanted a session in the afternoon. Hell’s bells! I must have a shower, drink a litre of water and sharpen up. Why do I keep doing this to myself?
If only she could face an evening alone, without the comfort of alcohol.
You’re a right one,’ she said. ‘A practitioner is only good if they’re nurturing themselves.’ If she was drained and tense, how could she guide others? That was not nurturing, it was punishing. She had the moves, the knowledge, but no longer the enthusiasm. Classes paid the bills but nothing altered her mood.
It was always the same at this time of year. She just had to get past December and when the New Year came it was a relief: a new start, a diet, a detox. Dry January… She could just about manage a month, or almost, until Burns Night when the Scottish residents held a shindig. Somehow she must get through the morning class and face young Kelly. ‘You are a fraud,’ she muttered to herself, ‘a bloody shambles, but you mean well.’
*
Kelly was early. It was her first session. ‘I’ve heard about reflexology, that it’s good for pregnancy. Do you think it’ll help me conceive? I’ve been reading up about it online.’
Della smiled. ‘It can help some couples, but we need to look at the whole picture. You understand the principle that the feet are full of nerve endings and by working on the energy pathways we can rebalance your whole body.’
‘Just by tickling my toes? I don’t understand,’ Kelly said.
‘It’s not as simple as that. I need a full history of your health and can’t promise anything, but we can work on your energy levels and blockages.’
Kelly was impressionable, desperate, and one unhappy young woman. Della felt a surge of pity. All that money and luxury but two failed IVFs. Did she really want a baby, or was she feeling deprived at not having one to show off?
Della felt herself tensing. This was too close for comfort but she knew she must put her client first, forget her own feelings, and give the girl a good session. All her own senses and experience must go into the task of reading Kelly from her feet upwards. The girl’s bitterness and anger were almost palpable. Yet, to her surprise, Kelly relaxed and fell asleep to the New Age music of Michael Hoppé, which always helped things along. Della let her wake naturally. ‘You may feel a bit woozy and tired. You went deep and that’s good.’
‘So what did you find?’ Kelly asked, sipping a large glass of water.
‘Everything feels in working order, some imbalances around your glands and bowels, but nothing serious. A few regular sessions may help you relax even more.’
‘You know Gary’s got this choir do. He set it up without consulting me, but I suppose I should do my bit. Why did you join?’ Kelly was curious.
‘Because I like singing and helping others in need. Life here is pretty privileged when you see the poor refugees with nothing but the clothes they stand up in.’
‘They shouldn’t come here, then.’
‘It’s not that simple, Kelly. We can only imagine what some of them have had to endure. Rape, imprisonment, starvation and betrayal. They want their children to have a better life. Isn’t that what we all want?’
‘How many children do you have?’
‘Just the one, but he died.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry… All I think of is holding a baby in my arms. It’s just not fair.’
Della felt she must labour the point. ‘Life isn’t fair, especially for those who are hungry and homeless.’
‘I suppose not. I’ve never thought of it like that. Gary says I need a tea strainer in my mouth. I speak without thinking.’ They both laughed. ‘Can I come next week? That was a very strange sensation. Not a bit what I was expecting, but it was nice.’
‘Good. That’s what we like to hear. Don’t worry about the do. We’ll all help for Ariadne’s party. She just wants the choir to mix socially as well as in rehearsals, and it’s very good of you to lend us your home.’
After Kelly had left Della sat down, drained but shocked at her blatant lie. How could she say she’d had a child when she had never allowed it to live?