‘Ames, everyone’s behind you,’ Jackie adds, joining them. ‘On The Wall, everyone’s saying how they’ve gone too far with this Sorry Supper. I really think if you leave, you’ll regret it. If you can get through tonight, you can get through anything, and we’ll be right behind you in the house.’
‘You always regret the things you don’t do,’ adds Gemma. ‘Not the things you do do.’
Amy gives them both a hug and turns to open the Therapy Room door. Perhaps her earlier thoughts were too harsh. Maybe this is more than a competition.
‘Hello, Amy,’ Dr Hicks says, walking into the Therapy Room. ‘You’ve had a difficult few days, haven’t you? Is that why you booked this session outside of our normal hours?’
‘Yes, I suppose you could say that,’ she says, trying to remain calm. ‘This Sorry Supper you’ve organised. A bit much, isn’t it?’
‘Well, we were always going to test your strength on The Shelf, Amy. If you’re feeling knocked to the ground, let’s talk about how we can put you back on your feet.’
‘I want to leave the house.’
He stops tapping his iPad and looks up, surprised. ‘Isn’t that a little dramatic?’
‘I don’t think so. If it is, I don’t care. It’s just how I feel.’
‘Amy, you really shouldn’t make important decisions when you have a hot head and you’re feeling emotional. Consider your decision for a while longer – perhaps sleep on it before you choose what to do.’
‘I can’t sleep on it – the supper with Jamie is tonight!’ she cries. ‘And I’m sorry, but having to cook my arsehole of an ex-boyfriend an apology meal is ludicrous. I’m really not overreacting here – I think I’m reacting as any normal human being would. You’re a therapist. Surely you can see that?’
‘I’m sure you’re stronger than you think, and your response to this challenge might surprise you. Seeing Jamie like this might help you let go. Cut the cord. Forgiving someone who has hurt you frees you from all the negative emotions that can hold you back, like anger or blame.’
His words hit a nerve. She stops herself in mid-response, sighs and sits back.
If she doesn’t learn to forgive Jamie, she will always resent him. And why should she let him impact her life like that? Why should she let him have any sway over what she does or how she feels? She’s in charge of her life now. She’s already wasted two years too long worrying about his feelings towards her. Her decision to stay on the show should have nothing to do with him. Amy pictures his smug face when he hears that she’s leaving because of him. She can’t leave and let him have the satisfaction of thinking she still cares. What she really needs to do is embrace this Sorry Supper with total indifference. She needs to put mind over matter and be friendly, even if it’s just for pretend. Because Jamie cannot leave here thinking he is the one in control.
His ego is big enough already.
Twenty-One
Hattie’s panting as she paces up and down the corridor outside the Therapy Room, scratching and rubbing her arms. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.
‘I’ve made a terrible mistake, Amy. I shouldn’t be here. What if they make me go on a date with Dylan? Did Dr Hicks say anything?’
‘Woah, Hats, what’s going on? Stop for a sec.’ Amy takes her arm and guides her to the dining room. ‘Take a seat. Breathe. Where is everyone else?’
Amy looks around. Jackie, Gemma and Lauren are outside tanning topless by the swimming pool. Roomba is rolling suspiciously close to them. Flick strolls carefree into the garden with a piece of toast and a cup of tea, takes one look at the topless trio and makes an instant U-turn back into the kitchen.
Amy looks at Hattie, who’s struggling to catch her breath.
‘I’m coming with you, Amy. I have to get out of here too. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t go through with this.’ She hides her face in her hands and sinks onto Amy’s shoulder. ‘They can’t make me see Dylan.’
‘Hattie,’ Amy says calmly, ‘no one has mentioned you having a date with Dylan – it might never happen. Besides, he’s already been on the show. I’m sure he won’t come on again. Gemma’s probably made him run for the hills. Do you want to see Dr Hicks?’ She eases her up off her shoulder and looks into her puffy brown eyes.
‘No, I just … I just don’t know where to go. I feel trapped. This is all too much. I can’t breathe.’
‘Hattie, you aren’t trapped. You have a choice and you can be wherever you want to be, but I promise you’re OK here with me. Now, I want you to do something for me.’
Amy guides her to a dining chair, sits her down and takes the seat opposite her.
Hattie nods, closes her eyes and carries on puffing.
‘Name five things you can see right now,’ says Amy. ‘It can be anything. Like a chair.’
Hattie opens her eyes slowly, confused.
‘Trust me,’ Amy says.
Hattie looks around and says slowly, ‘Dining room table.’
‘Great. What else?’
‘Fruit bowl, dirty mug, picture, door.’
Amy and Hattie continue to list things around them. It forces Hattie to focus on her senses. Four things she can touch, three things she can hear, two things she can smell and finally a positive affirmation. Sarah would be proud of her. She taught Amy this technique during their finals. Amy was overworked and sleep-deprived, and Sarah had found her crouched in a fetal position under her desk, repeating that she couldn’t carry on. Since then she’d used the technique at least ten times when she felt work – and Jamie – start to overwhelm her.
‘I am strong enough to get through this,’ they say together. And for the first time since being here, Amy really believes it. In herself. She is strong enough to get through this. And if she can get through this, she can get through anything. Pressing the STAY button was the right choice.
Hattie’s breathing is back to normal, and Amy’s own racing heart has slowed.
‘Thanks, Amy.’ Hattie lowers her head. ‘Sometimes I feel like I’m choking.’
‘Do you want to talk, Hattie? Maybe somewhere a bit quieter?’ Amy says.
They hear a splash outside, followed by a scream.
‘Oh, you are dead, Lauren Hawk!’ Jackie shouts, followed by the sound of someone jumping into the pool.
‘Can’t splash me if I’m already wet!’ Lauren laughs.
Hattie nods her head. ‘The bathroom.’
Amy locks the door of the bathroom and folds two towels on the floor. She takes a seat as Hattie leans against the shower door, closes her eyes and breathes out.
‘Sorry, Amy,’ Hattie breaks the silence after a few minutes. ‘I was being silly back there.’
‘Hattie, you don’t need to apologise – there’s nothing to apologise for. Panic attacks are awful, but you managed to get through it just fine, and now it’s over. You just talk when you want to, if you want to. I’m happy to sit here in silence. I love being in the bathroom – it’s my escape. There aren’t any mics in here, so if we’re quiet we won’t be heard. The ones in the bedroom can’t pick us up if we whisper.’