Гейл Ханимен - Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine

I’d been feeling so light and free earlier, so centred in myself, that I hadn’t had a chance to prepare myself properly for this. As I closed my eyes and exhaled to Maria’s count, I had the worrying realization that, before I was even properly aware of it, my brain was off accessing memories in places I didn’t want it to go, scurrying into rooms before I’d had a chance to block them off. My body felt heavy, in contrast to my mind, which floated, balloon-like, just beyond my reach. Now that it was happening, though, I accepted it with equanimity. There was a certain pleasure in ceding control.

‘Mummy. She’s angry. Mummy was sleeping but we’ve woken her up again. Mummy’s had enough of us now.’ I feel tears on my cheeks as I relate this, but I don’t feel particularly sad. It’s as though I’m describing a film.

‘That’s great, Eleanor, you’re doing really well,’ Maria said. ‘Can you tell me more about Mummy?’

My voice is tiny. ‘I don’t want to,’ I say.

‘You’re doing great, Eleanor. Let’s try to keep going. So, about Mummy …?’

I said nothing for the longest time, allowing my mind to wander where it needed to go in that house, letting the memories out like trapped birds. Finally, I whispered. Two words.

‘Where’s Marianne?’

SUNDAY. I HAD TO leave the house at twelve to meet Raymond for lunch. Glen was dozing in her new bed, and I used the camera function on my mobile telephone to take some more shots of her. In the final picture, she had one paw covering her eyes as if to block out the light. I knelt down on the floor beside her and buried my face in the biggest patch of fur. She wriggled slightly, then increased the volume of her purring. I kissed the softness on the top of her head.

‘See you later, Glen,’ I said. ‘I won’t be long.’ She appeared blissfully untroubled by my imminent departure.

When I was ready to leave, I opened the door as quietly as I could and tiptoed into the living room to check if she was still asleep. I found her on top of the giant catnip-stuffed mouse, both she and the rodent facing me, its glazed button eyes staring straight ahead. She had her front paws thrown over its mousy shoulders and was lazily kneading them while she humped it energetically from behind. I left them to it.

Ever since the session, all I could think about was Marianne. Marianne Marianne Marianne; I turned the name over and over in my mind like a coin between my fingers. Dr Temple had asked me to prepare myself to talk about her again in our next session. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Is knowing always better than not knowing? Discuss.

Raymond, untroubled by philosophical questions, was already there when I arrived at the Black Dog, reading the Sunday Mail and sipping a pint.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ I said.

His face was paler than usual, and when he stood up to hug me, I could smell old as well as new beer, in addition to the usual reek of cigarettes.

‘How’s it going?’ he said, his voice sounding scratchy.

‘How are you ?’ I said. He didn’t look well.

He groaned. ‘I nearly texted you to cancel, to be honest,’ he said. ‘Had a bit of a late one last night.’

‘Did you and Laura go on a date?’ I said.

He boggled at me. ‘How on earth did you know that?’ he asked, sounding incredulous.

I remembered something I’d seen Billy do in the office, and tapped the side of my nose with my index finger knowingly.

He laughed. ‘I think you might have a bit of witch in you, Eleanor,’ he said.

I shrugged. I even had a black cat now to prove it.

‘I bumped into Laura a while back, actually,’ I explained. ‘She told me you were seeing each other.’

He took a big gulp of his pint.

‘Right. Yeah, she’s been in touch a few times, asking if I wanted to meet up. We went to see a film last night, had a couple of drinks afterwards.’

‘That sounds nice,’ I said. ‘Is she your girlfriend now, then?’

He signalled to the waiter to bring him another pint.

‘Laura’s a lovely girl,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think I’m going to be seeing her again.’

A staff member brought Raymond’s beer and some menus, and I asked for a Dandelion and Burdock. Weirdly, considering it was a smart bar in the city centre, they didn’t have any, so I had to make do with a Dr Pepper.

‘Why not?’ I said. ‘Laura’s very glamorous.’

Raymond sighed. ‘It’s a bit more complicated than that, Eleanor, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I think she’s probably a bit … high maintenance for me, if you know what I mean?’

‘Not really, no,’ I said.

‘She’s not my type, to be honest.’ He took a noisy mouthful of beer. ‘I mean, looks are important, of course they are, but you’ve got to be able to have a laugh, enjoy each other’s company too, you know? I’m not sure me and Laura have got that much in common.’

I shrugged, not knowing how best to respond. It was hardly my area of expertise.

We were silent for a moment. He was looking terribly pale and uncomfortable. Classic hangover symptoms. Thankfully I never suffered from them, blessed as I am with an iron constitution.

I ordered an omelette made by the chef, Arnold Bennett, and Raymond went for the full cooked breakfast with extra fried bread.

‘Had quite a lot of Jack Daniel’s with Desi after I got home last night,’ he explained. ‘That should soak it up.’

‘Don’t make a habit of the drinks, Raymond,’ I said sadly. ‘You don’t want to end up like me, do you?’

Raymond reached for my arm, held it for a moment.

‘You’re doing just fine, Eleanor,’ he said.

The food came, and I tried not to look at Raymond as he ate. It was never a pretty sight. I wondered how Glen was doing. Would it be possible to bring her out somewhere like this, if she could sit in some sort of high chair at the table with us? I could see no reason against it but for the small-minded anti-feline contingent who might complain.

‘Look, Raymond!’ I said, thrusting my phone in his face. He glanced at the first four pictures.

‘Ah, that’s nice, Eleanor,’ he said. ‘She looks really settled at your place.’

‘Keep scrolling,’ I said. He flicked through a few more in a desultory fashion; I could tell he was losing interest. Pearls before swine.

We talked about inconsequential matters as we waited for our coffee. When it arrived, there was a lull in the conversation, and Raymond poured a sachet of sugar onto the table. He began to draw in the grains with his forefinger, humming tunelessly as he tended to do when he was feeling anxious. His cuticles were bitten and his nails didn’t look too clean — he could be such an annoying man sometimes.

‘Eleanor,’ he said, ‘look, I’ve got something to tell you, and you’ve got to promise not to be angry with me.’

I sat back and waited for him to continue.

‘I’ve been doing some research online about your mum, about what happened back then.’

I stared at the grains of sugar. How could each one be so tiny, and yet so perfectly angular?

‘Eleanor?’ he said. ‘I’m not sure if what I found is right, but I googled arson, and the year it happened, and London, and there are some newspaper articles you might want to take a look at. We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know, in case … well, in case you changed your mind about finding stuff out.’

I went to the happy place in my mind for a moment, the pink and white fluffy place with bluebirds and gentle babbling streams and, now, a semi-bald cat purring noisily.

‘Where did you say your mum is these days?’ he asked, very gently.

‘I don’t know,’ I mumbled. ‘She’s the one who contacts me. It’s never the other way around.’ I tried to fathom his expression. I find it hard to work out people’s expressions sometimes. The cryptic crossword is much, much easier. If I had to guess what was showing on his face, I would have said: sadness, pity, fear. Nothing good. But the underlying feeling was one of kindness, gentleness. He was sad and afraid for me, but he wouldn’t hurt me, and didn’t have the slightest desire to do so. I took some comfort in that.