Page 9 of Sorry, Not Sorry
‘I thought I’d be used to him by now, but he was acting like such an arse today.’ Delilah closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know why poor Sammie puts up with it.’
‘Maybe because she loves him?’
Delilah’s eyes flew open, and she turned her chair back to face Armenique, her headache momentarily forgotten. ‘How can you possibly think love excuses abuse?’
Armenique raised an eyebrow at Delilah’s sharp tone. ‘Hang on a minute, no one’s talking about abuse here. The bloke sounds selfish and insensitive, but that hardly makes him an abuser!’
‘But that’s how it starts, isn’t it?’ Delilah’s voice rose. ‘You give an inch, and then another, and the next thing you know, you’ve got a man taking advantage and calling all the shots.’
Armenique tilted her head to the side. ‘Are we still talking about Ross?’
‘Him – and guys just like him. I’ve gone out with enough of them to recognise the pattern.’ Delilah struggled to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
Armenique studied Delilah thoughtfully. ‘We’ve been mates since we started this course, but this is the first time I’ve heard you talk about your exes this way. I always assumed you were the happy-go-lucky, love-’em-and-leave-’em type.’
‘I’m fine until a guy starts to get possessive or controlling,’ Delilah replied shortly.
‘So maybe that’s why clients like Ross trigger you.’ Armenique hesitated. ‘Come to think of it, it always seems to be your male clients you have a problem with.’
Delilah tried to row the conversation back from the direction it was taking. ‘I was talking about me. It’s got nothing to do with my clients. We’ve both done the training and trust me, I know how to keep my personal views out of counselling sessions.’
‘Well yes, in theory,’ Armenique said slowly. ‘But we’re not miracle workers, Del, we’re human and it’s easy to let our own experiences get in the way of being objective. This is why you need to come to supervision, and it’s something you should explore with your therapist.’
Although the peer group sessions were mandatory, Delilah found them stressful, and when no one had pulled her up after she’d ducked one or two, she continued to find excuses not to attend. She dropped her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, but Armenique didn’t let it go.
‘You’ve got away with missing most of the supervision sessions, and yet you’re obviously struggling with your clients. This work can really weigh on us and we all need support. You need to take this seriously,’ she said.
When Delilah made no reply, Armenique sighed heavily. ‘Del, I’m your friend and I love you, but I’ve got to be honest, babe. If you don’t sort this out, it’s going to cost you.’
6
Delilah stood outside Polly’s office, willing herself to knock on the door.
‘Calm down! There’s nothing to panic about,’ she muttered aloud, as if hearing the words would remove the sick feeling that had lodged itself in the pit of her stomach since opening Polly’s email. Polly usually asked for a catchup by sticking her head around the door of Delilah’s office, so the formally worded email requesting a meeting at ten that morning had read like the business equivalent of ‘we need to talk’.
Delilah cleared her throat and inhaled deeply to steady her racing pulse. When that didn’t work, she shuffled her feet on the carpet and wiped her suddenly damp palms down the side of the smart grey skirt she kept for work. Come on, Del. Get a grip! Things were finally settling down and there had been no dramas with her clients for over two weeks – if she didn’t count the incident of the dog whose preference for sleeping in his ‘mummy’s’ bed had led his owners to seek counselling. As the couple were leaving at the end of a heated session, the much-loved pooch had broken free of his leash and scampered around the building for twenty minutes before being recaptured. But there was no way Polly could hold Delilah responsible for her clients’ dog’s behaviour, so why this meeting? For crying out loud, knock on the bloody door, Delilah! She squared her shoulders and raised her hand – just as the door opened.
‘I thought I heard a noise out here,’ Polly said, puzzled. ‘Why on earth didn’t you knock?’ Without waiting for a reply, she stood back and ushered Delilah inside.
Delilah had always loved Polly’s office, a light and airy corner room with huge windows on two walls and a bright rainbow rug in the centre of the parquet flooring. Half the room was dominated by a huge bookcase stacked with books, with the rest of the space taken up by a squashy grey sofa with soft pastel throw cushions and three armchairs. Polly’s desk, small and unobtrusive, was tucked into a small alcove next to a tall potted palm.
The office’s charm was the last thing on Delilah’s mind as she made an anxious beeline for the sofa, sitting up with her hands resting on her knees. Polly took a seat at the other end and shifted round to face her.
‘I’m sorry for the short notice but I’m glad you were able to make the time.’ Polly paused for a moment. ‘How are things going, Delilah?’
‘Absolutely fine,’ Delilah replied with a confident smile totally at odds with her upright posture and the nervous fluttering in her belly.
Polly gazed at her thoughtfully until Delilah, unnerved by the silence, dropped her calm façade and blurted out, ‘What’s this all about? Is there something wrong?’
She could hear the tremor in her voice, and Polly must have heard it too because her expression softened.
‘It’s nothing to worry about, Del, but I do want us to talk about your progress and see how best I can help you through your training. I know how much this job means to you, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to pretend that things are going swimmingly when we both know that’s not the case.’
Delilah squashed the instinctive impulse to leap to her own defence, and let Polly continue.
‘I’ve been reviewing your notes from your client sessions, and I have some concerns about the way you’re facilitating your couples’ conversations.’
‘Like what?’ Delilah demanded, her voice rising defensively.
