Waiting for Wednesday

‘You
know, like a little stone in your shoe. I’ll see what I can do. But that will be
it. One call and then you won’t hear from me again.’
    ‘You were the one who called
me.’
    ‘Don’t make me regret
it.’
    Frieda ordered a black coffee for herself,
a latte and a Danish for Sasha. She sat at the table and opened the newspaper. She
turned page after page until she reached the article she was looking for. Just a few
minutes earlier Reuben had been shouting down the phone at her about it, so she was
prepared. She skimmed it quickly.
    ‘Oh,’ she said, suddenly, as if
she’d been jabbed. There was a detail she hadn’t expected.
    ‘What’s happening with your home
improvement?’ Sasha asked. ‘I knew that Josef was giving you a new bath. I
didn’t realize it would take so long.’
    ‘I’ve almost forgotten what my
old bathroom was like,’ said Frieda. ‘Or what it was like to
have
a
bathroom.’
    ‘He probably thought of it as a kind
of therapy for you,’ Sasha said. ‘Maybe a hot bath is the one experience you
allowyourself that’s a complete indulgence with no redeeming
moral features. So he thought you’d better have a good one.’
    ‘You make me
sound … bleak.’
    ‘I think it was also therapy for
Josef.’
    Frieda was puzzled. ‘Why would it be
therapy for Josef?’
    ‘I know that you were there when Mary
Orton was killed. I know how terrible it was for you. But Josef knew her as well. He
looked after her, repaired her house. And she looked after him. Her Ukrainian son.
Better than her English sons.’
    ‘That’s true,’ said
Frieda.
    ‘When that happened to her and to you,
it hit him hard. I have the feeling that when something bad happens to him, he
doesn’t talk about it. He gets drunk or he makes something for someone.’
    ‘Maybe,’ said Frieda. ‘I
just wish his therapy wasn’t so messy. And so loud.’
    ‘And now you’re getting written
about in the papers again. Do you ever get sick of being picked on?’
    Frieda let a few moments go by.
‘It’s not that,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know about this, but
there’s something you should know.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘These researchers targeted four
psychotherapists. I’m one, of course. Reuben’s another. One of them is
Geraldine Fliess. They probably chose her because she’s written about extreme
mental disorders. And the other is James Rundell.’
    Neither of the women spoke immediately and
they didn’t need to.
    ‘Who brought us together, I
suppose,’ said Sasha.
    ‘And got me arrested.’
    Rundell had been Sasha’s therapist.
When Frieda had discovered that he had slept with Sasha while she was his patient, she
had not only confronted Rundell but attacked him in arestaurant and
been taken to a police cell, from which Karlsson had rescued her.
    ‘Does the article mention me?’
said Sasha. ‘Sorry. I know that sounds selfish. I didn’t mean
that.’
    ‘It doesn’t mention you,’
said Frieda. ‘So far as I can see.’
    ‘You don’t need to worry, you
know. I am better. That’s all in the past. It doesn’t have power over me any
more.’
    ‘I’m glad.’
    ‘In fact …’ Sasha paused,
and Frieda looked at her enquiringly. ‘In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell
you but there didn’t seem to be a right time. I’ve met someone.’
    ‘Really? Who is he?’
    ‘His name’s Frank
Manning.’ Her face took on a soft and dreamy expression.
    ‘You have to tell me more than that!
What does he do?’
    ‘He’s a barrister – a criminal
barrister. I only met him a few weeks ago. It all happened so quickly.’
    ‘And is it …’ She
hesitated. She wanted to ask Sasha if this Frank was single and free or, like several of
Sasha’s previous relationships, there were complications. She feared for her
beautiful young friend.
    ‘You want to know if he’s
married? No. He’s divorced and he has a young son. Don’t look at me like
that, Frieda! I trust him. If you met him you’d know what I mean. He’s
honourable.’
    ‘I want to meet him.’ Frieda
took Sasha’s hand in hers and pressed it. ‘I’m very glad. I should
have guessed – you’re looking very radiant.’
    ‘I’m just happy – I wake up in
the morning and I feel alive! I haven’t felt like this for so long. I’d
almost forgotten how lovely it is.’
    ‘And he feels the same.’
    ‘Yes. He does. I know he
does.’
    ‘I have to meet him. See if he’s
good enough for you.’
    ‘I’ll arrange it. But,