Starlight Peninsula by Charlotte Grimshaw

simple?’
    ‘Maybe she’s like one of those mathemeticians who’s a genius at maths but simple and childlike in life.’
    ‘People can be childlike, sure. Childhood usually involves narcissism, lack of empathy and a sense of entitlement. And then the child grows out of it.’
    Another silence.
    ‘Or not,’ Klaudia added.
    Eloise shifted unhappily. ‘You said reinventing. When I married Sean I felt I’d become a different person and left the bad old self behind.’
    ‘It was not a bad old self, it was the same self. You don’t have to repress things, hide things. You can be more accepting of yourself. You can ask questions. Why did things happen the way they did? Sure, look back. Ask yourself, what do I know of those bad times? Be open. Are there things you don’t understand? Find out.’
    Eloise started to speak, thought better of it.
    ‘Go on?’
    She hesitated. But she could say anything in here, it was confidential. Why not? ‘Well, okay, I burned a whole lot of stuff on the weekend. It turned into a bit of a disaster. Long story. I may be prosecuted. Anyway, I was clearing out, and it made me think about the past. I remembered there are things belonging to Arthur that I took from his flat and never looked at. Stuff nobody knew I had.’
    Klaudia tilted her head.
    ‘What kind of things, please?’
    ‘Notes, papers, photos. I don’t know whether I’d have burned them if …’
    ‘You didn’t burn them?’ Klaudia said softly.
    ‘No.’
    ‘You shouldn’t burn them. That would be a bad thing.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘What did you do with them?’
    ‘I … Well, I haven’t burned them.’
    Klaudia smoothed her writing pad, gently smiled.
    ‘Now. You say things have got a bit too much. You’re drinking too much, you’re doing the continuous walking. Are you sleeping?’
    ‘Yes. Although I wake up often.’
    ‘You wake early, can’t sleep again? I would like to recommend some medication.’
    ‘I don’t like the idea of sleeping pills.’
    ‘There’s no need for concern. I’ll get you a prescription from our psychiatrist. This will be good for you. Give me one moment.’
    She got up and went out, holding up her hand to forestall any argument.
    Eloise listened. Footsteps on the street outside, low voices. There was a wisteria vine growing up the veranda pillar outside. She walked to the open door and picked a leaf from the vine, rolling it in her fingers. The gardener backed across the lawn pulling the hose. She tugged it over to the garden shed, disappeared into the dark doorway.
    The footsteps came back along the hall. Klaudia said, ‘Here’s your prescription, something to help you sleep. Start tonight, you will feel much refreshed. After four days, you can build up to two pills. It’s fine to drink one glass of alcohol with them, no more. I think you need to come and see me regularly. There’s a lot we need to get to the bottom of.’
    They went out together, along the hall with its antique mirror, past the closed doors, the other offices.
    Eloise paused at the door. ‘Do you get tired of listening to people? Do you start to hate some of them?’
    ‘Tired? Never! I love to go on a journey with my patients. To explore lives, motivations, it is the source of great interest. You know, my tutorin Germany once said to me, Don’t think of studying psychology until you’ve read the Russian novels!’
    ‘Well. Thanks. See you next time.’
    Klaudia said, ‘I meant to say, those items you remembered you had, belonging to Arthur. They’re part of your past. Keep them. But there’s no hurry. Don’t look at them until you’re ready. Be kind to yourself. Take your time.’
     
    The heat struck up off the asphalt and the car had turned into an oven. Eloise gripped the steering wheel — it was hot. She looked back at the old shop, its rooms full of secrets. These ‘items belonging to Arthur’ — actually, what were they? That day at Arthur’s flat, she’d arrived with the woman detective who