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She laughed, ‘More easily than you want to know
, trust me!  But I’ve missed it.  The job, I mean, not your less than devastating charm.  I think it’s time I came back.’

He nodded in understanding and had the grace to look sheepish as he replied, ‘I was counting on that too.  I know what being a therapist meant t
o you, and I figured it was only a matter of time before you came back to it.’

‘You
are
good,’ said Kate resignedly, ‘And if you’re a creep at least you’re an honest one.  But I’ll let myself be manipulated this time, since it suits me too.  But there is a condition.’  She looked him in the eyes and said firmly, ‘You don’t interfere in any way.’

He hel
d up his hands in a backing off gesture and said, ‘You’ll have a totally free hand with her, provided you give me regular reports.’

Kate grinned, sudden happiness flooding her as she felt the thrill of being back in harness again after being so long away.  God, she had missed this! 
Why
she had missed it so much was another matter, and one she didn’t intend to pursue too deeply; those were dangerous waters, and for a therapist she was surprisingly loath to analyze herself.  She laughed suddenly, ‘We’re a screwed up bunch, aren’t we?’

‘Worse than most of our patients,’ he agreed, amused, ‘Whom we use to work out our own problems.  Or do you want to try telling me, with a straight face, that your own personal life is healthy?  Or ever has been?’

Kate made a wry
moue
and agreed
,
‘Never.  But then, I first became interested in psychology because of my own problems.  And if my own life is a disaster at least it’s only hurting me, and maybe I can use the mess to help others.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said, suddenly
turning gentle in one of those lightning changes of mood she had never been able to accustom herself to, ‘Do I take it that means you aren’t currently, er, involved?’

It was her turn to wince, ‘Don’t ask.  That’s a painful subject at the moment.’

‘I understand.  Peter’s an old friend of mine too, remember, and I know some of the details of your break-up.  Which I won’t go into now for fear of your running out on me.  But it’s been what, four or five months since you split up?  I just thought you might have met someone new by now.’ 
You always did lurch from one disfunctional relationship to another.
  ‘But if you haven’t, are you free to have dinner with me tonight?  Strictly in friendship, and perhaps to discuss the case?’

‘N
ot tonight.’  She pointed to the file on his desk, ‘That’s my date this evening.  We can catch up on the old days some other time.’

He handed her the file slowly and with a certa
in care, imbuing the simple action with an almost ritualistic air, as if he were formally passing over a sacred trust.  As perhaps he was.

Kate took
it with equal solemnity and stood up, ‘I wish you hadn’t sedated her earlier; I’d love to see her now, even for just a few minutes.  But I guess tomorrow will do.  I’ll pop in about two o’clock.  It’ll be a while before I’m ready to begin a regular schedule of therapy sessions but I want to have a few informal chats with her over the next week or two, to get her used to talking to me, before I try to win her trust.  Nothing formal, and certainly not therapy; I’ll just pop in for a chat whenever I have time.’

‘You can set your own hours,’ Trevor
agreed, getting to his feet, ‘And I agree that you need to feel your way in, to get to know her before starting your course of therapy.  But obviously once you draw up a regular schedule I’ll expect you to stick to it rigorously; I don’t have to tell you how important routine can be to the mentally ill.  But do you have to leave already?  What about the guided tour of my little kingdom?’

He seemed
serious but Kate only flashed him a brilliant smile and said gaily, ‘Your ego trip will have to wait.  I can’t wait to get started, and that file is calling out to me.  Besides, I’ve already taken up a lot of your time.’

He nodded
and handed her his card, ‘All my numbers are on that, and my email.  I’ll have Cathy give you an Employee Information form to fill out, but can I have your mobile number now?’

Kate
fished her own card out of her purse and gave it to him, hiding a wry smile; perhaps at last she’d get some use out of the blasted thing.  One of the first things she had done on returning from England was buy an Irish Smartphone, but in fact she needn’t have bothered; the only people who ever rang her were her family, and they rang her landline, as it was so much cheaper.  It spoke volumes about her present life that she was delighted by the idea that someone might actually ring her on her new mobile, though she would have died rather than confide this to Trevor.

He placed the card
on the desk before extending his hand and saying softly, ‘Welcome home, Kate.’

She knew exactly what he meant but after shaking hands
she pirouetted away, saying archly, ‘I told you; I came home months ago!  No, you needn’t come with me, I’ll see myself out.’

She walked out of his office into the huge
gothic foyer, her mind already teeming with questions, and with a vast curiosity as well.  If nothing else meeting Grainne Riordan would be an interesting experience.  And, as ever, a little voice whispered in the back of her mind,
But will you be able to help her? 
This voice was an old enemy, rooted in her own lack of self-belief, and she quietly told it to take a hike.  But the very fact that it had returned infused her with a certain familiar warmth, as it confirmed that she was truly back doing the job that alone in her often pain-filled life made her feel whole and fulfilled. 
The job that alone can make you forget your own past, your own problems,
the voice whispered.  And this time she had no ready reply with which to banish it.

Kate was walking down the steps toward her car, her
head bent in thought, when a voice behind her caused her to turn around.

‘Ms Bennett,
wait a minute!’  It was Riordan, emerging from a black Government limousine which contained not just a chauffeur but a Special Branch bodyguard to boot.

She blinked at him in surprise and said stupidly, ‘I thought you were long gone.’

Michael trotted up the steps to join her.  Ignoring the stinging rain that had started to fall he stood disturbingly close to her, allowing her to scent the sharp fragrance of his cologne, and said simply, ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

He paused as if expecting a reply but none occurred t
o her and, feeling more foolish than ever, she simply stood and looked at him in silence.  And in spite of the awkwardness of the position she was once again aware of his sheer presence, as well as his good looks.

‘Will you have dinner with me tonight?’ he asked abrup
tly, his pale, penetrating eyes fixed intently on hers.

Caught totally off-guard, K
ate gaped at him, her mind a complete blank.  Then she took a grip of herself and smiled politely, ‘I’d like to but I’m afraid I’m far too busy.’

He grinned suddenly, his face becoming almost boyish in its animation, ‘If you’d like to, then do it.  That’s always been my motto, and it’s brought me considerable success
in life.’

A murdere
d wife and a mentally ill daughter wouldn’t be most people’s idea of even minor success,
thought Kate tartly.  But she was too polite to make these remarks aloud.

As if h
e had read her thoughts he twisted his grin into a wry smile and added, ‘In my
business
life, that is.  My personal life isn’t quite so successful.  All right then, it’s a mess.  Though I suppose I’m not alone in that.’

‘Tell me about it!’ Kate agreed involuntarily, and his grin returned as he said, ‘Over dinner you can tell me your horror story and I’ll tell you mine.  Though I imagine you already know most of it.  Please say yes.  I intend to pul
l out all the stops to persuade you to take my daughter’s case.’

‘There’s no need, I’ve already agreed to help with Grainne’s treatment.’
 
If I can.

‘I’m so glad,’ he said quietly, ‘But come to dinner with me anyway.  I want to get to
know you better.  Besides, I can help you with her background.  No one knows Grainne like I do.’

That made sense and in spite of herself Kate nodded, ‘Okay.  I intended to interview you anyway, to get some background details on Grainne’s early life, and I suppose the sooner the better.’

‘Great!’ he said briskly, ‘Shall we say eight o’clock in
Guibaud’s?’

‘
Guibaud’s?’
she repeated, impressed in spite of herself, ‘That really is pulling out all the stops.  But I guess you can afford it.’

Was it her imagination or was his smile tinged with sadness?  He said quietly, ‘Money, unfortunately, can’t buy everything.  A lesson I learned a little too late
, though I’m trying to make up for it now.  Shall I pick you up or meet you there?’

‘Meet me there,’ she said instantly, ‘I like to drive myself everywhere.’  Driving herself home, she did not add, also cut down on front-door wrestling matches
, though she doubted he had anything like that in mind.

‘You’ll get no argument
from me on that,’ he said humorously, ‘I hate driving.’  He gestured toward the Mercedes, ‘One of the few benefits of being in politics as far as I’m concerned is the car and chauffeur Ministers are provided with.  Though the bodyguard is a bit of an embarrassment.  Mind you, he’s easy to give the slip to, should the occasion arise.’  He held out his hand, ‘Until tonight then.’

She shook his hand and, once again aware of a tingling shock spreading from his touch, said brusquely, ‘Very well!’ before turning sharply away, afraid he might see the effect he was having on her.  She walked quickly to her car and slid behind the wheel, all too conscious that he was standing in the rain looking after her.

What are you doing, woman?
she moaned,
You turned down one of your oldest friends yet accepted his invitation almost immediately!  What are you
DOING?

‘Shut up!’ she told herself aloud, refusing to think about it as she slid the car into gear
and retraced her route down the driveway to the great iron gates.  But her mind was only partly on her driving; the rest of her was far away, wondering why a rich, beautiful young girl with the world at her feet would first ruin and then try to end her own life.  What could have caused her to break down so completely?  Most important of all, what could possibly have caused her to murder her own mother?

    Michael began moving faster inside Kate, his weight driving her down into the mattress and causing her to moan softly, partly in pleasure and partly to encourage him to greater effort.  She bit into his shoulder, thrusting her hips up against his grinding pelvis and he growled in response and speeded up his rhythm again, a light sheen of sweat breaking out on his reddened, contorted face.  He craned his head down to suck one erect nipple into his mouth and Kate arched her back to meet him while her fingernails lightly scored his back, relishing the feel and weight of a man on top of her again after so long alone.

Michael began a regular low grunting and Kate felt his teeth clos
e gently on the soft skin of her neck as they moved faster and faster together towards a climax, their bare bellies slapping together as their passion became uncontrollable.  With a deep groan Michael came inside her and when she felt him spasm Kate’s pelvis jerked in response as she too reached a short, sharp orgasm, her eyes tightly closed and her mouth open in a soundless moan of pleasure.  Michael slumped down on top of her and lay motionless for several seconds before rolling off her onto his back, wiping the sweat off his face with one hand and panting for breath.

Kate felt a momentary stab of depression, even revulsio
n, as he withdrew from her but she suppressed it, concentrating instead on the gentle waves of pleasure still suffusing her body, and trying not to think at all but simply to feel.  Feeling was always so much safer than thinking.  She certainly didn’t want to think about the disappointment of Michael’s unclad body, the drop she had felt and tried to conceal at her first sight of his pimply shoulders and pale, flabby midriff.  With her libido flagging she had concentrated instead on his face and eyes and the way he made her feel, but even when desire had flared up again she had not been able to suppress the thought that he owed his tailor a great deal.  But then, she had become accustomed to...  She forced her mind not to form his name, instead thinking,
Bette
r
things.  I’ve become accustomed to better things.

She
lay there quietly while Michael disposed of the condom, trying to hold onto the afterglow and perhaps unconsciously expecting him to return and envelop her in his arms with kisses and murmured endearments, as Peter would have done.  But it was not to be; after he climbed back in beside her he rolled onto his side with his back to her.  After a minute or so the sound of his breathing grew deeper and more regular and she realized, with a slight shock, that he had fallen asleep.  She stifled any disappointment and kept her own eyes closed, willing herself to fall asleep too and above all not to think, but it was impossible.  At last she conceded defeat by opening her eyes and staring at the dark ceiling above his bed, wondering what the hell she was doing there at all.  This was not her, this was not her way, in spite of her recent loneliness.  And sexual frustration, of course; never forget that.  But it was her aching loneliness over the past few months that was the key. 
Loneliness for…