So, today’s the day, says Boris. Danny smirks and raises an eyebrow. So was Monday, but it didn’t happen. That’s it. Decision made. I am telling clients today. I’ve been putting off this moment for some weeks. And, surely, I tell myself, Mrs D, Boris and I can enjoy some well deserved retirement. This feels mostly good. I am repeating the mantra: I am a therapist and I am more than a therapist, on a regular basis. I am telling myself that I can now read all the interesting therapy books that I have bought over the years…. And into which I have, mostly, dipped rather than read. I can relearn the piano, I was once at Grade 7 and now my granddaughter teaches me chop sticks…. I can write more, sew more, play more tennis, be more available for family and friends, commit to more than the odd bit of deadheading in the garden. And, importantly, enjoy my seventies to nineties (I’m an optimist!) with my partner as much as I can. It all sounds a little hedonistic, remarks Danny. After all these years, Danny still doesn’t do fun. I’ve heard her tell of a dance well danced, of a job well done but not really of a passion fulfilled or an exciting risk taken. What tethers us to unrequited love? The fantasy of what could have been? This makes me think of my own journey of living with the context of grief and how I made, after two or three years, a conscious choice to give myself permission to move on and live life, and I have. It’s not been straightforward, but I have. Still, maybe, for Danny, Rebecca is a hard act to follow.
Doorbell, says Boris. My first client, Ann. I will tell her, then it will be real. She comes in blue and white today, she looks fresh and together. Hi, she says. She is smiling, I enjoy working with her. If she weren’t a client, I would have liked her as a friend. I’m good, I reply. Danny tuts, what does that mean? It’s not even correct English. Fair point, I always used to say I’m fine until I learned the ironic therapeutic acronym . I take a breath and pace myself. Can I take a minute? Of course, she responds. I am going to retire in a year’s time. I pause. Her expression is one of surprise. Oh! Good for you! Pause. She smiles and says, note to self,, : become less dependant on Lizzie over the next 12 months. She laughs then goes quiet. I wait a bit for the news to land. She meets my eyes. Gosh, it will be strange not seeing you every week. We both sit with this and go on to have a fruitful session talking of endings past and present.

One down. My 3 o’clock, Ben, arrives early, as per, and parks on the driveway. He will be polite, I think . I look at him as he sits down, he seems preoccupied. Do I give him the news now or do I wait until the end of session? Before I have a chance to speak he launches in. We look at the familiar challenges that he has, that he struggles to move on from. For Ben, women are withholding and unpredictable. Boris and Mrs Danvers start eyeing me from the window seat when I have fifteen minutes to go… Ben, I say, I need to take a few minutes to talk to you about something. Are you going to sack me as a client? He asks, chuckling. Er no, not exactly, but I am going to be retiring in a year’s time. Oh, he says. Well, might you keep one or two people on after that? I mean, I only have one session a month… it wouldn’t take up too much of your time… I feel a little surprised… but wanting special treatment is part of his issue? He looks disappointed at my negative response. I think you might have given me a bit more notice, he remarks crossly with an edge to his voice. I have become his wife and mother…..What if I only had a session once every three months… goodness me! He leaves at the appropriate time asking me to “think about it”.

I take a mug of tea into the garden and try and let go of my irritation with Ben and with myself for not handling things better. Poor, says Danny. I turn my attention to my next client. It’s a zoom session with a chap who is rather matter-of-fact on the outside with a softer interior. I assume, (one should never assume, says Boris) that although Doug may be disappointed he will be ultimately pragmatic and ask for a referral. We haven’t worked together for very long. I tell him of my decision and invite a response. He is silent for a long minute then says slowly and quietly: Well, this has just ruined my day. My eyes fill with tears… gosh, whose tears are these? I widen them in an attempt to stop the evidence falling on to my cheeks. So much for authenticity…he has turned his face away from me. So be it, you must do what’s right for you … I feel crushed with a sense of responsibility for letting him down and rather desperately sad. It is not as if I haven’t thought about these moments, haven’t practised what to say and how to deliver. It was always a when and not an if. Maybe it took gruff Doug to put me in touch with my pain at this ending. You’re learning, at last, says Danny.