Page 89 of The Lucky Escape

A woman stood at the front with a PowerPoint presentationloading on the giant white screen behind her. ‘I’m Esther Essiedu, board member of the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy, and this is our informal informational event about training to become a counsellor or psychotherapist.’

I settled in to listen to how it all worked, taking notes as Esther explained that most employers and clients look for practitioners with professional qualifications and membership of professional bodies. When I’d googled counselling, the thing I hadn’t been able to figure out is what exactly the base qualification was, and she explained that that’s because there isn’t one – her association, which is one of many, set their own standards, so it turned out there was no compulsory training courses or qualifications as such. She did explain, though, that if we wanted to be registered with BACP, it would take about three or four years.

‘It’s a combination of independent study, placements, supervisions and often your own personal therapy, too. As a first port of call we recommend taking an introductory course to make sure counselling is the right career for you. At a further education college or adult education centre, you can get an overview of what training involves within eight to twelve weeks.’

I picked up some leaflets about that afterwards, when there was tea and coffee on offer with some biscuits, and we were encouraged to hang about and chat.

‘You look like you’ve got quite the collection of reading material there,’ Esther said behind me as I tried to juggle my handbag, the plethora of research I’d collected, and a paper cup of tea with two shortbread fingers. She’d given me a shock and I almost spilled my tea, but she saved me by taking it out of my hand at the last minute.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I think I was a bit ambitious with my balancing skills.’

‘We don’t knock ambition here,’ she said, compassionately. ‘Has tonight been helpful for you …’ she looked pointedly at my name tag ‘… Annie?’

‘It has,’ I replied. ‘I think I got about ten pages of notes,’ I joked, and she laughed.

‘I saw you scribbling away. There’s definitely an inner student trying to wrangle her way out, isn’t there?’

‘I’ve always been that way,’ I said. ‘I used to love learning at school.’

‘And since then?’

‘I went to university and now I work. But I’ve got to say, it’s been a long time since I picked up a new skill or tried something just to see what it was like. I don’t think I’ve done that since I was at junior school, actually.’

Esther considered this. ‘My husband and I have just taken up swing dancing,’ she said.

‘Oh, lovely!’ A tiny pit of envy swelled in my stomach at the mention of a happy relationship.

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘The only thing I enjoy about it is being able to say “we take swing dancing lessons”. The execution of it is quite painful.’

It was kind of her to say. She was telling me, sideways on, not to be so hard on myself – wasn’t that just the story of my life?

‘Anyway. We’re so pleased you could be here. Is there a particular aspect of counselling that’s drawn you to learning more?’

‘I think I’m interested in child psychology, maybe, or something to do with helping teenagers.’

I hadn’t realized I wanted that until I said it. It just slippedout, and then hung out there for us both to see. It was as much news to me as it was to her, and we both nodded at this new piece of information.

‘My teenage years were very painful, and it’s taken me until now to understand the impact they had on my life,’ I said. ‘I suppose it would be nice to help any other young ’uns out there who felt like I did.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ she said. She reached out and touched my arm as she spoke, and I understood that was a small signal that she would mingle with some of the others now.

‘Thank you so much for your insights,’ I said. ‘It’s been really great.’

She told me I was welcome, and I spent the bus ride home googling where I could start a foundation course, and exactly how much it would cost me.

This is getting totes awks now,Patrick texted me before bed, and relief flooded through me.

It is!I said.I just want it to be tomorrow night now. A week is too long without you.

Agreed,he sent back, followed by a heart emoji.

43

I was summoned to another meeting with Chen the next morning, in the conference room on the floor above mine. She theatrically pushed an expensive-looking brown envelope across the table to me.

‘What’s this?’ I said, picking it up.

‘It’s your offer,’ she replied, her face impassive. I think she’d switched tack from outright enthusiasm and pushiness to something more sanguine, interpreting my own coolness about Antwerp as a bargaining tactic.

---