The Counselling Room – an Octopus Story by Eileen Phyall

_{Written by Eileen Phyall as part of the #OctopusStory writers group led by Matt Wingett & Alison Norrington.}

I spent many years and a great deal of money training to be a therapist. I learned about my inner self, how to empathise not sympathise. How to sit quietly listening. I did not unfortunately learn how to be a businesswoman, and although I was a good therapist, I didn’t make enough money to pay my bills, unlike my friend Louise who trained to be a beauty therapist. She learned how to make women beautiful and soon had a thriving business. Women went in looking drab and came out without lines and with enhanced eyebrows, whilst many of my clients came out dabbing their eyes and looking unhappy.

I knew I was a good therapist, my tutors and peers had told me so, but often things got worse before they got better in my line of therapy.

Lou Lou, as she was now known, grew richer and more beautiful. How did she do that lipstick? Mine smudged and wore off. Hers was an all day painted smile.

Two years after qualifying I realised that I was never going to make enough money to live by counselling. I had to pay for the room and for supervision. People who were happy to pay £50 to get their face fixed were reluctant to pay me week after week.

Things got so bad money wise I started to work in the local teashop. Behind the scenes making scones and cakes. It wouldn’t have done for people who had poured their hearts out to me to see me serving teas in a frilly pinny.

Lou Lou came for tea on a Thursday afternoon. I would take my break and sit with her. She always had a problem to tell me, not business that was thriving. Her love affairs were always a disaster. She clearly needed someone to talk to, as a friend not a paying client. She told me that her current lover from whom she rented her business rooms, at ‘a friend’s rate,’ was tired of her and she needed somewhere new. She wondered if I would share a place with her to keep costs down.

I was paying a ridiculous amount of money for the space I had and said I would give it serious thought. I talked it over with Annette who ran the tearooms.

“Trouble is,” I said. “ My income is varied and I can never guarantee that people will keep coming to see me.”

“You could use the rooms upstairs,” she said. “There are three rooms, so you could both rent them from me.” She said how much she wanted for the rent and as I only needed one of the rooms, I thought I could afford it. When I spoke to Lou, she was delighted.

“I need two rooms, and that is a very reasonable rent.“

I thought it would be good for me because sometimes people are reluctant to come for counselling because they think people see them and know they have a problem. This way no one would know who was coming for beauty treatment and who was coming to see me.

The rooms were huge, mine had a large fish tank in it. I looked at it in dismay. Fish tanks meant regular cleaning to prevent build up of verdigris. I could deal with whatever mess people made of their lives, but actual cleaning. Oh no. I spoke to Annette about removing the tank. She was adamant.

“You’ve signed the lease. The fish tank and care of the Octopus are part of the agreement. It’s all there in the document.”

“The what. Did you say Octopus?”

“ Yes. I did tell you Chloe but you don’t listen.” Now that was an insult. I’m a counsellor, of course I listen.

I protested again, to no avail.

“Lou Lou said that you were fine with it.”

“Well she would it’s not in her room.” I started to understand why she was happy for me to have the largest room.

“How can I work with that in the middle of the room?”

“Look this is a large room. Sam can easily partition it so that you can have one without Ollie.”

“Ollie?”

“The Octopus.“

“He has a name?”

“Of course he is very intelligent.”

“He may be but he is an Octopus.”

I won’t go into details it will only bore you. In spite of all my protestations the Octopus and tank remained. The room was split into two so that I had a cosy counselling room inside a larger waiting room. However, Sam who was a good carpenter was rather deaf and didn’t listen. He included the tank in the wall of the room, one side built around the tank.

“This way,” he said proudly. “It can be seen from both rooms.” I gave in. I got used to Ollie. I had no choice.

I despaired of getting anyone to come to see me in that room. Lou Lou continued her thriving business though. I gave up my other room. I could not afford the rent on both, so I nervously told my clients about my change of venue, reluctantly introducing the idea of the occupant of my new rooms.

He was actually quite fascinating. In spite of me putting a heavy curtain along the wall to hide his tank, a tentacle would appear and pull it back a little. I’d be aware of a beady eye watching me. His advantage was that he was very quiet. Surprisingly except for one very nervous lady they were all intrigued.

Indeed my reputation grew and spread. Ollie would sit quietly in the sessions. I noticed that after a while he imitated my body language with his tentacles. He was a talking point for those reluctant to speak. When I asked a question people would look across at him before answering.

“He’s listening,” they would say.

I decorated my room with shells and corals but much of it ended in Ollie’s tank. He made himself a beautiful octopus garden.

I had a client who was very deaf and started to experiment with response cards for her. I made cards with comments like:

What happened next?

You seem upset.

How do you feel? etc.

It worked well she didn’t have to stop her story to try to understand what I was saying to her.

One afternoon when she was due, I put the cards by my chair, before opening the door for her to enter. When I sat down, I noticed they were gone. I was puzzled but didn’t want her to see, so I carried on.

She always found it difficult to start and usually looked across at Ollie. I followed her gaze. He was sitting next to his tank hold a card which read,

“How do you feel?”

This was the start of Octopus Therapy. Soon all my clients wanted to talk to him. After all most people want a counsellor who will listen to them. He did that. I would sit quietly most of the time. Ollie would listen holding up an appropriate card when there was a silence. At the end of the session I would sum up what had been talked about and Ollie would quietly slip back into his tank.

My books were full.

I had a waiting list.

I put my prices up. Ollie had fishy treats. We did so well. As we flourished Lou Lou’ s business faltered so she came for counselling too. And paid the going rate.

We are a phenomenon and have been asked to appear on TV. However, we will not. We are professionals Ollie and I. We know that the counsellor’s place is not in the spotlight, but sitting quietly in the room.

Eileen Phyall 2022