“I think your husband might have something to do with it,” said Ellen.

“I can’t believe I asked you for my money back. I’m horrified by my behavior. I was crazy with jealousy and I don’t know—just crazy!” She lowered her voice slightly. “Also, I don’t know if you know, but the Daily News is writing a story about you.”

“Yes,” said Ellen. “I know.”

“I’m so, so sorry, but I ran into Ian Roman when I was leaving your place, and maybe he intimidated me a bit, or I was sort of starstruck—well, I’m just looking for excuses for my inexcusable behavior really. He gave my details to a journalist and she interviewed me, and now I’m just sick about the things that I said. I’ve left her about thirty messages trying to withdraw my comments. If it’s too late and this story appears, you’ll have to sue me. I’m serious. It’s the only answer. Sue me for every penny I’ve got. I haven’t got that many pennies, but you sue me for them. I deserve it.”

She paused and her voice became muffled as she spoke to someone else. “But it’s true! I deserve it!” It seemed like Luisa’s husband wasn’t quite so keen on being sued.

“I think I’ve managed to get the story stopped for a few days,” said Ellen.

“Oh, thank God! Well, when the journalist calls me back, I’m going to set her straight. I’m going to tell her that you’re a miracle worker.”

“Please don’t tell her that,” said Ellen. “Seriously.”

“Well, I’m just going to tell her the truth. This is a miracle baby. Oh, sorry, Ellen, I’ve got to go, my parents have just arrived, but thank you, seriously, and once again my deepest, deepest apologies.” Her voice skidded up with delight. “Dad, I can’t drink champagne!”

Ellen heard a man’s voice say, “Well, Grandpa sure can!”

“Congratulations,” she said. “Congratulations to all of you,” but Luisa had already put the phone down.

She inhaled. Exhaled. She got a bit teary thinking about the Grandpa-to-be with the bottle of champagne. Oh, God, it was still early days. If she was getting the credit for Luisa’s pregnancy, would she get the blame if something went wrong? But still, her professional reputation appeared to be safe for a few more days.

She went back into the dining room. Patrick was leaning over his mother’s chair following the progress of the Monopoly game, while his father marched his token around the board, shaking his head dolefully.

“Pay up! Pay up!” shouted Jack. “Triple the rent!”

“I think you’ve bankrupted him, darling,” said Maureen hopefully. “Does that mean we’re done?”

“Everything OK?” Patrick looked at Ellen.

“It’s good,” said Ellen. “Tell you later.”

“Hand over the cash, dude.” Jack held his palm out to his grandfather.

“It’s late, we probably should wrap this game up soon,” said Patrick.

“But you said I was having the day off school tomorrow,” protested Jack.

“Yes, but the point was so you could rest.”

“I slept all day,” said Jack. He did appear to be bursting with good health now, his eyes bright and clear.

“He’s full of beans,” said Maureen. “But you two look exhausted. Why don’t you let him stay with us tonight?”

“I don’t know,” said Patrick. “After last night, I’d rather—”

“We’ll take him to McDonald’s for breakfast as a special treat,” said Maureen casually. She concentrated on rattling the dice in her cupped hands.

“Yes!” said Jack. “Hash browns!”

“Mum,” said Patrick, but Ellen could see he didn’t have the energy to argue. Her own mother would be up against a formidable adversary in the battle for ruling grandma.

An hour later, Ellen and Patrick had the place to themselves, but instead of sleeping they were eating their way through a bag of marshmallows and playing the Dragon Blade Chronicles on Jack’s PlayStation. Since having a stepson, she’d done a lot of ninja fighting.

“You’re getting pretty good,” said Patrick, after he’d defeated her for the fifth time. “For a lentil-eating hippie girl.”

“It’s strangely addictive,” said Ellen. “And actually, lentils are not my favorite legume.”

“Leg what?”

“Just shut up and eat your marshmallows.”

They sat silently for a few seconds, chewing.

Finally Patrick cleared his throat and said carefully, “OK, enough is enough. We still haven’t got to the main item on the agenda.”

“Just forget about it,” said Ellen. “Honestly. Let’s play another game.” She picked up the console. Patrick took it from her and put it back on the coffee table.

“Is that the first time I’ve said anything like that under hypnosis?”

“Yes.”

“It’s just that you once said to me that hypnotherapy was completely consensual,” said Patrick, “that no hypnotist could make you do or say anything that you didn’t want, and I certainly did not want to say that in front of you.”

Maybe your subconscious wanted to tell me, thought Ellen.

“Well, this is where it gets messy because I’m not just your therapist, I’m your partner,” she said in her professional voice. “I don’t normally lie in bed with my clients!” She gave a horrible fake little laugh, but Patrick wasn’t smiling. “I think you were probably half asleep, half in a trance. Anyway, it really doesn’t matter—”

“Doesn’t matter? Of course it matters!” said Patrick. “What a thing for you to hear! And the thing is, it gives you a completely skewed idea of how I do feel, and ever since you told me, I’ve been struggling to think of the right way to put this.”

“It’s OK,” murmured Ellen. If she hadn’t compromised her professional integrity so badly, this horribly awkward conversation would never have had to take place.

“Have you ever had any doubts about this relationship? Ever compared me to one of your previous exes? Ever had a thought cross your mind that you wouldn’t want me to know?”

“I don’t know, I guess.” She squirmed. Throughout the course of their relationship there had been a whole plethora of thoughts and feelings that she wouldn’t want him to know about.