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In this book, Windy Dryden brings together the four major strands that have shaped his idiosyncratic approach to clinical practice – (i) Cognitive Behaviour Therapy; (ii) flexibility in practice; (iii) Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy; and (iv) pluralism – an approach he calls ‘Flexibility-Based Cognitive Behaviour Therapy’.
Perhaps uniquely for the literature, this volume provides an extended account of how a world-leading therapist personally thinks about and practises psychotherapy. As well as insights from over 40 years as a therapist, the book reflects the most recent developments in Dryden’s work, and highlights both the different theories he is using and the core building blocks of his practice.
Aimed at therapists in training and practice, Flexibility-Based Cognitive Behaviour Therapy presents a rare opportunity to gain an insight from one of the leading figures in the field of psychotherapy.
Windy Dryden is in part-time clinical and consultative practice and is an international authority on Cognitive Behaviour Therapy. He is Emeritus Professor of Psychotherapeutic Studies at Goldsmiths, University of London. He has worked in psychotherapy for more than 40 years and is the author of over 220 books.
Flexibility-Based Cognitive Behaviour Therapy
Insights from 40 Years of Practice
Windy Dryden
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Preface
This book incorporates four major strands that have shaped my own idiosyncratic approach to clinical practice. As such, this volume represents an accurate picture of how I personally think about and practise psychotherapy. I refer to the approach that I take as ‘Flexibility-Based Cognitive Behaviour Therapy’. I do so (1) because my approach is broadly CBT in orientation and (2) because the concept of flexibility is at the heart of both my thinking and practice of therapy. Indeed, in my view, it is at the core of psychological health. As such, my own goals as a psychotherapist are to promote flexibility in my clients, both in terms of their attitudes and their behaviour. ‘Flexibility’, therefore, is the first major feature of my clinical practice.
I am perhaps best known for being a ‘Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapist’ and if I were to nail my colours to any therapeutic mast it would be to REBT. Indeed, I am happy to teach REBT to other professionals as long as I am clear that I am doing just that and not necessarily representing the fullness of my clinical practice. On the other hand, there is something limiting when one conceives of oneself as a practitioner of any specific approach to therapy and also when one represents oneself publicly in this way. Thus, while the theory and practice of REBT is the second major strand that has shaped my idiosyncratic approach to clinical practice, it does not completely define my work as a psychotherapist, as I will make clear later.
The third major strand underpinning my practice is the ‘working alliance’ theory originated by Ed Bordin (1979). This is a framework that helps clinicians to think broadly about their work with clients with respect to therapeutic bonds, views, goals and tasks. Briefly:
• bonds refer to the interpersonal connectedness between the therapist and client;
• views refer to the understandings that both participants have on salient issues;
• goals refer to the purpose of the therapeutic meetings;
• tasks refer to the procedures carried out by both therapist and client in the service of the latter’s goals.
I have devoted a chapter to each of these components because of their importance in shaping my thinking and intervening in the consulting room.
The final strand that has shaped my clinical thinking and practice is that of pluralism (Cooper & McLeod, 2011). Here, in particular, I have been influenced by the idea that fully involving the client in the clinical decision-making process is both practically sound, ethically desirable and liberating for the client, once he or she has become accustomed to the idea! This is not to say that I downplay my professional expertise. Rather, it means that such expertise as I have is connected to what the client brings to the therapeutic setting in terms of their expertise, strengths, resources, etc. As I see it, psychotherapy, then, is a fusion between what I bring to the endeavour and what the client brings to the endeavour. The important point is that both contributions are acknowledged and that there is a mechanism for resolving differences between therapist and client as therapy unfolds.
It is perhaps useful to the reader if I make clear what I am not going to do in this book. First, I am not going to present protocols for the treatment of a variety of clinical disorders. Second, I am not going to describe clinical techniques. Indeed, I would say that this book is light on technique and heavy on framework and ideas. Instead, my goal is to provide a feel for the way I work and for the strands that have shaped this work.
As I mentioned above, I refer to my approach as ‘Flexibility-Based Cognitive Behaviour Therapy’. However, the last thing that I want to do is to add yet another therapeutic approach to a crowded field. However, my approach is flexible, I believe, and it is most closely related to the psychotherapeutic tradition known as Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT), hence the book’s title.
Rigidity and flexibility
Flexibility-Based Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (FCBT) is based on the concept of flexibility. To understand flexibility I would like you to consider its antonym, which is rigidity. By adopting a rigid approach to phenomena we end up with a fixed view about how such phenomena absolutely should or must be. We may take action to try to force these phenomena to fit into the fixed categories we have established in our minds, if they are not in any way as we insist in our mind that they must be.
1.1 Procrustes
Let me start by giving you an example from Greek mythology. A certain Procrustes had a house by the side of the road and offered hospitality and a bed for the night to passing strangers. He would invite them to dine with him and then to sleep the night. Procrustes was rigid in his insistence that everybody should fit into his one size fits all bed. Because he had this rigid view, he would stretch the legs of those guests who were too short for the bed and cut off the legs of those who proved too tall for it. All this was because Procrustes was rigid about having his guests fit into his bed. In fact, the phrase ‘fitting something into a Procrustean bed’ is derived from this story. But justice finally reigned: Procrustes had a dose of his own medicine when Theseus adjusted him to his own bed. Now, let’s imagine what would have happened had Procrustes been flexible in his approach towards having guests sleep in his bed. First, he would have let them sleep in his bed without trying to ‘adjust’ them in any way. If he had only wanted people who fitted his bed exactly, he would only have invited people he knew would fit the bed. Moreover, he might have ordered different-sized beds to allow his guests to be comfortable. Had Procrustes done all this, Theseus would have had no reason to exact justice by killing him.
The story of Procrustes – and my proposed alternative – clearly demonstrates the consequences of rigidity and flexibility. The rigid stance of Procrustes led to the death of his guests and eventually to his own death. He was unable to think of a creative way to solve his ‘bed-size’ problem and his rigidity led to ‘black and white thinking’: ‘Either you fit my bed or I will make you fit my bed one way or another.’ Had Procrustes adopted a flexible approach, however, he would have engaged in creative, lateral thinking, his guests would have lived and he would have lived. By being flexible he would have adopted a form of ‘grey’ thinking rather than ‘black and white’ thinking, as represented by the thought: ‘There are a variety of solutions to the problem if you don’t fit my bed.’
1.2 Rigidity and flexibility in psychological functioning
Procrustes’ story still has much to teach us both about psychological disturbance and how to address it. I will deal with each of these issues one at a time. First, I will examine the impact of rigidity and flexibility on psychological functioning.
Albert Ellis (1913–2007) was the founder of Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy (REBT) and I have practised this approach, in my own way, for over 40 years. Ellis argued that psychological disturbance is based on ‘absolutistic’ thinking1 (Ellis & Joffe Ellis, 2011) and that psychological health is based on ‘nondemanding’ thinking2 (Ellis & Joffe Ellis, 2011). I have been deeply influenced by his views on this subject.
1.2.1 The impact of rigidity on psychological functioning
I will show what the impact of rigidity is on psychological functioning by providing an example. Sarah’s approach to achievement at work is rigid. If her work performance is good, she will be pleased as long as it continues to be good. However, although her performance is good, she becomes anxious if she thinks anything might prevent her achievements at work from continuing. Sarah’s problem started when her work performance deteriorated. At this point, she became disturbed psychologically because her attitude to achievement is rigid and therefore for Sarah the failure to achieve is not an option. However, the problem is that it is an option in reality. Therefore, as this reality began to occur, Sarah had no capacity in her mind to deal with it in a constructive way because of her mental rigidity. This rigidity led her to form one or more extreme conclusions, for instance:
• ‘When I don’t achieve at work it’s the end of the world’ (which is known as an awfulising attitude).
• ‘Not achieving at work is something I can’t put up with’ (which is known as a discomfort intolerance attitude).
• ‘When I don’t achieve at work I’m a failure’ (which is known as a self-devaluation attitude).
When it came to her behaviour, Sarah’s rigid response to her nonachievement at work led to a dual response. Sometimes she gave up, while at other times she would redouble her efforts, thus risking her health through overwork. Which of these two paths she took depended, partly, on how her rigidity impacted on the type of extreme attitude she held and the inferential thinking it subsequently resulted in. Inferential thinking is characterised by interpretation and prediction, in this case coloured by rigidity. When Sarah’s rigidity caused her to think that non-achievement proved she was a failure (extreme, self-devaluation attitude) and that she would never succeed at work (subsequent inferential thinking), she was prone to give up. On the other hand, when Sarah’s rigidity caused her to think that her failure to achieve was not an option and that it should be avoided at all costs (extreme awfulising attitude) and that she would not allow anything to impede the achievement of her goals (subsequent inferential thinking), she would tend to overwork, putting her health in jeopardy. Sarah alternated between these two responses, depending upon how things were going at work and which extreme attitude and subsequent inferential thinking she was engaged in at the time.
1.2.2 The impact of flexibility on psychological functioning
I have emphasised that flexibility is the healthy alternative to rigidity. Let us examine how the adoption of a flexible approach to work achievement would make a difference to Sarah. If Sarah adopted a flexible perspective to work achievement, then if she performs well at work, she will be satisfied as long as she continues to perform well. She may become concerned (rather than anxious) if she thinks anything might threaten her work achievements from continuing. This concern will help her engage in productive problem-solving to prevent any threats that may be looming and to handle constructively any threats that may materialise. If Sarah’s work achievement ceased then her flexible mind would enable her to deal with this possibility healthily because, while it might be undesirable, she has not excluded the possibility of a lack of achievement at work from her mind. As such, Sarah would have the mental facility to
handle it constructively. Her flexibility would enable her to make one or more of the following non-extreme conclusions:
• ‘If I don’t achieve at work, it’s bad but it isn’t the end of the world’ (this is known as a non-awfulising attitude).
• ‘Although it is a struggle to cope with non-achievement at work, I can put up with it and it is worth my while for me to do so’ (this is known as a discomfort tolerance attitude).
• ‘If I don’t achieve at work I am not a failure. Instead, I am a complex, unrateable fallible human being who at the moment is not succeeding’ (this is known as an unconditional self-acceptance attitude).
Regarding her behaviour, in response to not achieving at work Sarah’s flexible standpoint will lead her to act in a number of ways. Compare this with the split in her response when she takes a rigid standpoint. If she is flexible she will first look for the source of her difficulty and then take remedial action based on a reasonable assessment of her problem. She may, for example, decide she needs to learn a new skill and in this case will enrol on an appropriate training course. Alternatively, she may decide that she has a personal difficulty that is preventing her from progressing. In that case she will take the appropriate steps to address this difficulty, by seeking counselling or coaching, for example, depending on the nature of the difficulty. She may also seek help from her workplace or decide that she should take steps of her own to get back on track. In other words, she has a variety of options, all of them designed to encourage her to handle the obstacle and allow her to improve her work performance. This approach contrasts with a black and white attitude in dealing with the problem stemming from a rigid mental attitude. In this later case, as you may recall, she will either tend to give up or to work in an unhealthy way to get back on track.
Sarah’s constructive responses are based on her non-extreme attitudes and her subsequent realistic inferential thinking. Both of these will arise from a flexible approach.
1.3 Rigidity and flexibility in the practice of psychotherapy
If you survey the whole field of psychotherapy, it will soon become clear to you that there are many different approaches. Specific approaches exist within the traditions such as psychodynamic, humanistic,
cognitive-behavioural, transpersonal and systemic, as well as therapies that aim to combine or integrate these approaches. This way of working is known as eclecticism, psychotherapy integration or pluralistic practice.
Concepts of rigidity and flexibility are relevant to the above areas. It is possible, for instance, to practise a specific approach to therapy either in a flexible or rigid way and my hypothesis is that experienced practitioners within these approaches are more flexible in their use of them than novice therapists who are more likely to practise their particular approach in a more rigid, by-the-book form.
Those practitioners who consider themselves advocates of eclecticism, psychotherapy integration or pluralism tend to view themselves as practising therapy in a flexible manner and this is probably the case to the extent that they show no commitment to any specific approach to therapy. However, if we take a closer look at the practice of the latter, it will soon become obvious that they do favour particular approaches over others. However, depending on the extent that they exclude specific approaches, one might well ask why they are excluding or downplaying these approaches. For instance, many training programmes devoted to integrative approaches to counselling and psychotherapy, either tend to exclude or downplay cognitive-behavioural elements. This seems strange considering that among the different specific approaches within psychotherapy, CBT has perhaps the best evidence base. Could this be a sign of rigidity? It is perhaps difficult to say, but to underplay or exclude an approach that has a good evidence base may suggest this.
1.3.1 What does it mean to practise an approach rigidly and flexibly?
Every psychotherapeutic approach has practical procedural rules. In REBT, therefore, a treatment sequence outlines a particular order in which interventions should be made (Dryden, DiGiuseppe & Neenan, 2010). In person-centred therapy, therapists are encouraged to work within clients’ frame of reference. Its practitioners are consequently discouraged from asking questions as these may come from the therapist’s frame of reference rather than that of the client’s.
When these rules are applied rigidly, an REBT practitioner would only adopt the recommended sequence even where there was evidence that this sequence was not working. In person-centred therapy, a therapist who never asks questions is considered to be rigid, particularly in cases where asking a question may progress the therapy. Thus, rigidity in
psychotherapy occurs when practitioners adhere dogmatically to rules of procedure and exclude specific interventions that could be helpful even if not generally recommended by the particular approach.
What, in contrast, are the markers of flexibility? Let me be clear: I do not equate flexibility in the practice of psychotherapy with being laissez-faire in the sense that anything goes. Neither do I mean that all approaches are given equal weight when considering eclecticism or integration. Those practitioners who favour specific ways of working, particularly when there is evidence in favour of these ways, are acting ethically by explaining this point to their clients. They are, however, being flexible by including methods in their practice they do not necessarily favour when it is indicated that they should do so. Therefore, practitioners are being flexible when they have preferred ways of working but are prepared to make compromises with their preferences.
1.4 The concepts of flexibility and rigidity in Flexibility-Based CBT
In this book, I use the phrase ‘Flexibility-Based CBT’ (FCBT) to describe the way I work for two reasons.
1 It asserts that flexibility is the basis of healthy functioning and that my goal is to promote flexibility in my clients – flexibility in cognitive functioning, in behavioural responding and in pursuing their goals and acting on their values.
2 I have used the term FCBT because it advocates flexibility in therapeutic response. As I see promoting flexibility in psychological functioning as a major goal, I therefore favour therapeutic techniques that advance this goal, but because FCBT is flexible as a major therapeutic principle, it enables me to make compromises with my favoured strategies and techniques when it is in my client’s interests to do so.
1.4.1
Is it possible to practise FCBT rigidly?
‘Yes’ is the short answer to this question. The founder of Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy (REBT) Albert Ellis, whose ideas have greatly influenced my development as a psychotherapist, once said that any good idea can be turned bad by rigidity. So how may I avoid being rigid in the way I practise Flexibility-Based CBT (FCBT)? I think I can do so in the following ways.
1.4.1.1 Guarding against imposing flexibility as a goal on a client who is not interested in it
A rigid approach to things is comforting for some clients, who don’t want to become more flexible. I would acknowledge, as a therapist, that in my opinion, the client would be better served by learning to become more flexible and I might make this case to the client. On the other hand, I would accept the client’s explanation and help them in the way they want to be helped provided this did not endanger the client’s life or wellbeing. I would not impose flexibility on disinterested clients.
1.4.1.2 Using non-preferred strategies and techniques and making compromises with my preferences
I begin by using techniques that best facilitate flexibility and I carry on with these techniques to give the client every chance to use them and to get the most out of them. However, when it becomes clear that the client is not benefiting from these preferred techniques I will stop using these methods. Rather than being driven by my allegiance to the ideal practice of what I call FCBT, I would be driven by my allegiance to the client. According to an apocryphal story, a trainee psychoanalyst once said: ‘The beauty of psychoanalysis is that even though the patient is not improving at least you have the comfort of knowing that you are doing the right thing.’ This viewpoint is anathema to me: as a flexible therapist, I object both to the smugness of this statement and to its rigidity.
1.5 Pluralism and Flexibility-Based CBT
As there are echoes of the concept of pluralism in what I have written in this chapter up until now, let me make clear the pluralistic roots of my practice.
1 What I call Flexibility-Based CBT belongs within the cognitivebehavioural tradition of psychotherapy. However, I am respectful of other approaches both within and outside this tradition. Respect of this kind is an important feature of pluralism (Cooper & McLeod, 2011).
2 While I agree with the Stoic view of Epictetus that: ‘People are disturbed not by things, but by the views that they take of things’ and while I privilege the role of rigidity in accounting for disturbance, I also agree fundamentally with the pluralistic view that there are many pathways to psychological change. I am guided by both these ideas in clinical practice.
3 I concur with Cooper and McLeod’s (2011) pluralistic views that taking seriously clients’ views regarding what is helpful to them in therapy, even if these views are not compatible with the way I think clinically and how I practise, is paramount to the practice of therapy. Although I may not go as far as Cooper and McLeod (2011) in privileging the views of clients, I agree with them that engaging clients in an explicit meta-therapeutic dialogue with clients is important and I endeavour to do this in my work.
4 Burns (1980) has listed a number of cognitive distortions considered present in depression and other emotional disorders. One such distortion is termed ‘either/or’ thinking. Ellis and Dryden (1997) hypothesised that this form of thinking (and the other cognitive distortions) tend to arise from sticking to rigid attitudes, and research tends to support this view (see Bond & Dryden, 1996a, 1996b). In contrast to cognitive distortions, balanced cognitions are considered to arise from sticking to flexible attitudes, and again there is research to support this hypothesis (see Bond & Dryden, 1996a, 1996b).
‘Both/and’ thinking is the balanced alternative to either/or thinking. Cooper and McLeod (2011) maintain that a defining aspect of a pluralistic approach to counselling and psychotherapy is its emphasis on a ‘both/and’ as opposed to an ‘either/or’ approach to therapeutic phenomena. Pluralism is certainly an important factor in both my clinical thinking and practice.
5 Cooper and McLeod (2011) also point out that reflexivity is one of the features of a pluralistic approach to counselling and psychotherapy. Reflexivity describes the practitioners’ ability to reflect on the approach being used and by doing so to acknowledge both its strengths and its weaknesses. Flexibility, as we shall see, is connected to the concept of human fallibility. This latter concept acknowledges that approaches to counselling and psychotherapy have been developed by fallible human beings and may therefore be right and wrong in many ways. Such a pluralistic attitude views the development of counselling approaches as being rather like the development of self-actualisation – a journey towards greater truth which, in all probability, may never be fully realised.
Now that I have discussed the central concepts of flexibility and rigidity in FCBT, in the next four chapters I will discuss the important role that the working alliance plays in Flexibility-Based CBT, starting with therapeutic bonds.
Effective bonds in therapy
I briefly described in the preface, the four components of the working alliance (Bordin, 1979) as follows:
• bonds refer to the interpersonal connectedness between therapist and client;
• views refer to the understandings that both participants have on salient issues;1
• goals refer to the purpose of therapeutic meetings;
• tasks refer to the procedures carried out by both therapist and client in the service of the latter’s goals.
Although I will be dealing with each of these components separately in this book, please note that they are interconnected. In this chapter, I will discuss the importance of the bond between my client and myself in FCBT. In discussing these bonds, I will consider the following:
• the ‘core conditions’;
• the reflection process;
• interpersonal style;
• the bonds of influence; and
• transference and counter-transference.
2.1 The ‘core conditions’
One of the most seminal articles in the psychotherapeutic literature, in my opinion, is Bordin’s (1979) paper on the working alliance. But if that is the case, then possibly a paper published by Carl Rogers over 20 years earlier is perhaps the most seminal. In that 1957 article, Rogers argued that six conditions were necessary and sufficient for therapeutic personality change to occur. Over the subsequent years, three of these conditions have been regarded as core and are now therefore called the ‘core conditions’.
In Rogers’ original paper, these were known as empathy, unconditional positive regard2 and genuineness. It is important to point out here that the presence of these conditions needs to be experienced by the client to enable them to have therapeutic potency.3
In general, I agree with my CBT colleagues that it is important for clients to experience their therapists as empathic, accepting4 and genuine in their interactions with them, although particular ‘core conditions’ for some may be more therapeutic than for others. Thus, Susan, whom we will meet later in this book, valued my honesty more than she did my acceptance of her. This brings up the question of how I can tell which condition is valued more than others, and that leads us to a discussion of what I call the ‘reflection process’, which is a key aspect of the way I work.
2.2 The reflection process
I tend to follow what has become known as George Kelly’s first principle, which states: ‘If you want to know what is wrong with someone, ask them, they may tell you.’ The version underlying the ‘reflection process’ is as follows: ‘If you want to know what is right and wrong for a person, ask them, they may tell you.’ As the reflection process is interactive, it not only incorporates my view, but that of my client. What is particularly therapeutic is what emerges from the ensuing discussion, particularly if I favour the client’s viewpoint rather than my own.5
An example of the reflection process can be found in one of the Marx Brothers’ movies, where Groucho stops the action to give a reflective commentary on what has just happened. In FCBT the reflection process is similar: my client and I reflect on what has happened, is happening, or may still happen between us. This process may be followed through formally, for example, in review sessions or end of session feedback or, more informally, during the therapy process.
I see this reflection process as a forum for my client and me to discuss matters pertaining to the therapy in which the client is involved. I used to consider this process to be ‘extra to’ or ‘outside the therapy’. However, I now regard it as an integral aspect of the therapy. In that respect, it is a means of showing the state of the relationship with regard to the degree of acceptance, trust and mutual respect that is present in that relationship.
2.3 Interpersonal style
The interpersonal style adopted by my client and myself and the goodness of ‘fit’ between these respective styles is the third area that is relevant to how I work. According to working alliance theory the therapeutic
bond can be enhanced when the ‘fit’ between my client and myself is good, while it can be threatened when this fit is poor.
Different approaches to therapy have posited preferred interpersonal styles between client and therapist. For instance, the preferred interpersonal style in Beck’s Cognitive Therapy (CT) is for the two participants to collaborate actively in working with cognitive-behavioural elements of the client’s problems. Beck contrasts this collaborative interpersonal style with a style that is more challenging, which he has associated previously with practitioners of Ellis’s Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy. This view is illustrated in the following contribution to the Academy of Cognitive Therapy Listserve:
I notice that many of you have used the word ‘challenge’ in response to investigating patients’ automatic thoughts, beliefs, and hallucinations. I wonder if this is really the appropriate word since it sounds confrontational. In practice, we all approach these phenomena with an investigative spirit (for instance guided discovery, collaborative empiricism). In other words, we do not imply that a patient’s particular verbal production is wrong (as implied by the word ‘challenge’), but we examine, evaluate, test, etc.
(Academy of Cognitive Therapy listserve)
The client is viewed in pluralistic approaches to counselling and psychotherapy as being an active participant in the therapeutic process, but these approaches also recognise that either clients cannot or will not involve themselves actively in therapy, but instead prefer to adopt a more passive therapeutic style (Cooper & McLeod, 2011). I prefer an active, collaborative approach, but I will also modify my interpersonal style in order to provide a ‘good enough fit’ with that of my client. With some clients this may result in my adopting a challenging style, while with others more of a didactic, teaching style.
The interpersonal therapist styles, instead of existing as either/or categories, may vary along a continuum. I locate myself, according to client variability, on the common style dimensions:
• activity–inactivity;
• formality–informality;
• humour–seriousness;
• self-disclosure–non-self-disclosure.
Please note that I am not suggesting that, as an example, having decided to use self-disclosure with a client I would use it as the predominant
therapeutic style, but rather that to make an appropriate point with that client when the opportunity presented itself, I would use self-disclosure when I might not do the same thing with another client.
2.3.1 Issues with respect to interpersonal style
To consider the issue of interpersonal style in therapy in full would require a complete volume of its own. However, for our present purposes, I will make the following points.
2.3.1.1 Gauging which interpersonal style to adopt
It is never easy to determine what would be the best interpersonal style to adopt with each client. However, following George Kelly’s above suggestion, and as demonstrated in my work with Susan, I will ask the client directly:
Windy: Which interactive style would you prefer to ask your therapist to adopt so that he or she might get the most out of you as a client?
Susan: That’s difficult to answer. I’m not quite sure what you mean . . .
Windy: Well, for instance, would you find it more helpful if I adopted a passive or an active interactive style?
Susan: I think an active one, provided you also allowed me to be active. Windy: OK, that’s fine. And would you prefer me to be more formal or informal?
Susan: Oh, informal, definitely. I’m not keen on formality. Windy: And what about humour?
Susan: Well, I know therapy’s a serious business, but I find humour can help, because it allows me to put things into perspective. Windy: If I occasionally shared a little of my own experience, would that help if it shed light on how you might be able to address your own problems?
Susan: If it’s relevant I would find that helpful. And it would also make me feel that I wasn’t a freak.
From this exchange we have now ascertained that Susan considers she will find it most useful to her if I adopt an informal, active, self-disclosing, humorous style. Whether this actually proves to be the case has yet to be discovered, but it has established some provisional guidelines for
proceeding with Susan in regard to my interactive style. This can be discussed by the therapist and client, as with other issues, as part of the reflection process that I have discussed earlier.
Such information may come to me from my clients in questionnaire form. For instance, with regard to the client’s preferences relating to therapist interpersonal style, Lazarus (1989) in his Life History Questionnaire (LHQ) includes the following questions, which he routinely used to give his clients while he was in active practice:
• How do you think a therapist should interact with their clients?
• What personal qualities do you think the ideal therapist should possess?
I might add the following to these:
• If they are to get the most out of you as a client, which interactive style would you advise your therapist to adopt?
• When working with you, which interactive style would you advise your therapist not to adopt and why?
2.3.1.2 Adopting a style that does not reinforce clients’ problems
In any interpersonal setting, when two people come together their interactive styles may complement each other’s or may conflict in some way. However, just because such styles complement each other, it should not necessarily be assumed that effective therapy may therefore be enhanced. For such a ‘mesh’ may prove to be unproductive. Although I value an active-directive style, I appreciate that there may be a risk that such activity may ‘pull’ for client passivity. In cases where a client becomes passive this may in turn ‘pull’ me to become increasingly active. A vicious cycle may then be created if I am not careful and this may reflect and reinforce the client’s everyday life passivity problems. I endeavour to be aware of the risks attached to adopting a therapeutic style that might reinforce my clients’ problems and guard against this. As well as high levels of activity with a passive client, you should note the following examples of therapeutic styles that could particularly reinforce clients’ problems or unhealthy modes of functioning. In such cases I also endeavour to avoid adopting these styles.
2.3.1.2.1 GUARD AGAINST BEING UNDULY WARM WITH CLIENTS WHO HAVE A STRONG NEED FOR APPROVAL
Being unduly warm with clients may reinforce their need for my approval. I must therefore be less warm and to agree with the client that their need for approval is in itself a target for change.
2.3.1.2.2 GUARD AGAINST BEING UNDULY DIRECTIVE WITH CLIENTS WHO ARE HIGHLY REACTANT
Clients who are highly reactant have an adverse reaction to perceived or actual attempts to influence them. Because of this tendency, it is important for me to emphasise client choice more than I usually do. Should I fail to do so, my client may terminate therapy as a means to preserve their autonomy.
2.3.1.2.3 GUARD AGAINST USING HUMOUR WITH CLIENTS WHO USE HUMOUR AS A DEFENCE
As is well known, some people use humour as a means of protecting themselves against emotional pain and thus from dealing with their problems effectively. If I were to use humour with such a client, I would reinforce this tendency unwittingly. When humour is used effectively it helps promote therapeutic change, which will be apparent to both client and therapist. It is often introduced by clients themselves to help reinforce their defences and in such cases, I need to respond in a way that does not join in with the client’s levity.
2.3.1.3 Therapist authenticity
In my work I have emphasised how important it is for the therapist to demonstrate interpersonal flexibility. This, however, should be done in a genuine way and although putting on an act for a client may not be noticed immediately, it will eventually be detected with negative effects on the working alliance. An effective therapist, according to Lazarus (1989), should be an ‘authentic chameleon’, which means in this context, that they are able to modify their interpersonal style from patient to patient, while doing so authentically. As part of my training I needed to become aware of my range of interpersonal styles and have the ability to employ this range at different stages of the therapy process in a genuine way with different clients.
2.4 The bonds of influence
Work emerging from social psychology in North America in the 1980s suggested that it would be useful to regard the therapeutic relationship as an interpersonal setting where influence may take place (Dorn, 1984). This approach did not prove to be popular with therapists, who are inclined to be uncomfortable with the idea that they influence their clients, and instead prefer to regard themselves as facilitators of their clients’ growth. Although the ‘counselling as influence’ notion may be unpalatable to some, I regard it as a useful way of thinking about why clients take heed of their therapists, independent of the message the therapist may be trying to convey to them. As a key therapeutic task in my work is helping my clients adopt the view that flexibility in attitude is healthier for them than rigidity, ‘counselling as influence’ is particularly important to my practice.
While I am considering here how, as a therapist, I influence my clients, it would be more accurate to say that my clients allow me to influence them. And they do this for three main reasons:
1 They like me or find me attractive in some way.
2 They trust me.
3 They are impressed by my credibility, which may include my experience, expertise and/or credentials.
Let me illustrate what I mean here. What mattered to Susan, the client I am referring to in this book, was that as an author of two books on anxiety (Dryden, 2000, 2011a), I was thus regarded by her as an expert. Although she had consulted two other competent CBT therapists, Susan felt that they lacked the external signs of expertise that she valued.
Given this framework, I am inclined to ask clients the following question as part of the assessment process. Are you most likely to listen to a therapist and give credence to what they have to say (a) if you like the therapist as a person, (b) if you trust them or (c) if the person appears to know what they are talking about? I am then guided by their answer in deciding how best to influence them. I will strive to meet my clients’ preferences regarding this as far as I can do so genuinely and as long as doing so is therapeutic for my clients.
Ideally, the content of what their therapists say should impress clients irrespective of whether clients like their therapists or whether therapists’ expertise is demonstrable. However, how the messenger is perceived often determines the potency of the message in the real world of counselling and psychotherapy.
As a therapist, trainer and supervisor my own experience is that some clients may heed those therapists they like and allow themselves to be influenced by them even if such therapists do not demonstrate expertise, while others may heed and allow themselves to be influenced by expert therapists, even if they may not like them. Few clients, however, will listen to therapists they do not trust even if they like them or are impressed by their credentials.
2.5 Transference and counter-transference
The final area relevant to the bond between my client and myself concerns the concepts of transference and counter-transference. Although these concepts derive from psychoanalytic approaches to psychotherapy (see Jacobs, 2017), the phenomena indicated by these terms are more significant than the use of the terms themselves. The terms indicate that both my client and myself bring to the therapeutic relationship tendencies to perceive, feel and act towards another person that are influenced by their previous interactions with significant others. Such tendencies often have a profound influence on how the working alliance is developed and maintained.
2.5.1 Transference
I will deal with the issue of transference following Miranda and Andersen’s (2007) social-cognitive model. I first ask my client to name and describe significant others and to refer in particular to facets of their interpersonal relations, particularly problematic issues. Once I have identified these representations, I will be able to see when these are activated in the therapeutic relationship and help my client see the link between the representations of significant others and their present response to me as therapist. With the help of the client particular cues in my behaviour need to be identified. I will apologise as a clinician, for any unintended insensitivity as this does help promote the use of the reflection process, which is so necessary when clients process transferential experiences.
2.5.2 Counter-transference
Unhelpful therapist schemas are identified both by Ellis (2002) and Leahy (2007). These help me understand my vulnerability to experiencing an unhelpful counter-transference response, for instance a need for approval, intolerance and emotional inhibition. If I am to acknowledge
anti-therapeutic reactions to my clients and the dysfunctional schemas underlying them, self-compassion, self-acceptance and humility are important. I have learned that I will neither deal constructively with such counter-transference reactions nor even admit their existence if I am ashamed of having them, especially if I have dysfunctional schemas about being a therapist (for instance, ‘I am an experienced therapist and therefore should not have negative reactions to my clients’). To deal with these counter-transference reactions I first need to address any shame-based attitudes towards having such reactions before I consider the issues lying behind the reactions themselves.
In addressing transference and counter-transference issues in therapy, while I am first guided by REBT and CBT theory I am open to other theoretical perspectives if they prove to be more helpful. For this reason I value and undertake continuing professional development issues both within and outside CBT.6
In Chapter 3, I will examine the aspect of the working alliance that I have called ‘views’. This aspect refers to the understandings that my client and I have on issues pertinent to our shared work in therapy.
Shared views in therapy
I added the ‘views’ component of the working alliance (see Dryden, 2006, 2011b) because I considered that Bordin’s tripartite component model of the alliance – ‘bonds’, ‘goals’ and ‘tasks’ – did not cover the views (or understandings) that both therapist and client have of salient therapeutic issues.
3.1 The importance of explicit communication in FCBT
In my opinion, effective therapy is based on a set of shared views (or agreed understandings) between my client and myself on a range of issues. Should we disagree on any aspect of the process, we need to identify, explore and resolve the potential obstacle to the client’s progress that exists. In view of this potential for disagreement, I am explicit about my views and I encourage my clients to be explicit about theirs. In supervising therapists, my experience has indicated that many problems in therapy could be avoided if therapist and client are clear with each other on whatever issue caused them a problem.
If my client and I disagree on a particular topic then either one of us can refer the issue to the reflection process that I discussed in Chapter 2. If the views on which we differ cannot be reconciled and if this makes therapy non-viable, then this decision has at least been made based on an explicit exchange of opinion and information.
3.2 Negotiated consent
‘Negotiated consent’ is a term I use to characterise the heart of the views component of the working alliance. I prefer this to the more generally used term ‘informed consent’ because it reflects the greater reality that my client and I are negotiating important elements of the contract between us.
The term ‘informed consent’, on the other hand, signifies that the client is informed by me, the therapist, about relevant aspects of my therapy practice and gives their consent to proceed with therapy, based on being so informed. It seems to me that this one-way process does not enable me to be informed by what my client wants so that I can decide whether there are any elements with which I disagree and about which I want to negotiate. It is on the basis of this discussion and negotiation that I can choose to give my consent to proceed or otherwise. For this reason the term ‘negotiated consent’ reflects more accurately the flexible, pluralistic nature of my practice where the client’s views are taken very seriously and they are considered to be an equal partner in the therapy process. If, from the client’s perspective, consent cannot be negotiated, they cannot be said to have agreed to the process and thus therapy should not proceed. What I and my client negotiate about before we both give our consent to proceed is as follows:
• eliciting from the client what therapeutic approach they are seeking and explaining the way I work;
• therapy practicalities;
• confidentiality and its limits;
• contributions of both client and therapist to therapy;
• how both client and therapist conceptualise the problem(s);
• how both client and therapist plan to address the problem(s).
I will deal with each of these issues in this chapter, but first let me make an important point about client roles, which are relevant to the consent process.
3.2.1 Client roles and the consent process
The distinction between ‘applicant’ and ‘client’ in interpersonal social work has been pointed out by Seabury, Seabury and Garvin (2011). Drawing on this, I find it useful to add the role of ‘enquirer’ and to ask myself which of these roles someone occupies when they first make contact with me: are they in the ‘enquirer’ or ‘applicant’ role? It should be noted that when a person first makes contact they cannot be in the ‘client’ role as they have not yet given their consent to anything. I will now explain a little more about each role.
3.2.1.1
The enquirer role
Being in the ‘enquirer’ role means that someone is making enquiries about therapy. In this regard, even if they have little idea of what they are
seeking, they may be hoping that their initial enquiries will prompt their thinking. Conversely, they may have a clear notion of the kind of therapy they are seeking, but are ‘shopping around’ for a particular therapist or therapy – and at the right price if they are looking for a therapy in the private sector. Those in the enquirer role make contact by phone or email and I consider it important to spend a little time with them to help them with their enquiries. When an enquirer makes an appointment to see me they can then be said to occupy the ‘applicant’ role. Also, when a person initially seeks an appointment, but hasn’t yet made one, they are also in the ‘applicant’ role.
3.2.1.2 The applicant role
If someone is in the ‘applicant’ role they have decided to look for therapy and to seek it from me. Although they may have also made an appointment with me, they do not yet know what working with me might involve, while I don’t know whether I am the best person to help the client or whether I can help the client.
3.2.1.3 The client role
By the time someone looking for my help has become a client, we have agreed the following:
• that the way I work (which I refer to here as FCBT) is suitable for that person and that they think this approach could be helpful to them (with the person themselves suggesting modifications);
• that we both think I can potentially help the person;
• that we both understand and agree to fulfil our respective roles and responsibilities;
• that we are both in accord regarding the practicalities of therapy.
At this stage, both of us having negotiated and consented to proceed, the person formally becomes my client.
3.3 Discovering which therapeutic approach the client is looking for and explaining how I work (FCBT)
Before I negotiate consent with a client, I do two things regarding therapy approach. I find out what ideas, if any, the client may have about the
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got to go down the wind like a dead leaf afore them, because I soon saw that under her mild words, Susan weren't going to be shook."
"She wouldn't be. There's no strength like the strength of a woman who gets her only chance. She knows, poor dear, 'tis Palk or nothing."
"I told 'em to get out of my sight for a pair of cold-blooded, foxy devils —yes, in my anger I said that—and so they have; and soon, no doubt, they'll be gone for good and all. And that's the middle and both ends of it; and the worst and wickedest day's work ever I heard tell about."
"You've dropped below your usual high standards, if I may say so," answered Melinda. "Little blame to you that you should feel vexed, I'm sure; but 'tis more the shock than the reality I believe. I feel the shock likewise, though outside the parties and only a friend to all. 'Tis so unlike anything as you might have expected, that it throws you off your balance. Yet, when you come to turn it over, Joe, you can't help seeing there's rhyme and reason in it."
"You say that! For a woman to fly from the safety and security of her father's home—and such a father—to a man who don't even know what work he's going to do when he leaves me. And a wretch that's proved as deep as the sea. Can't you read his game? He knows that Susan be my only one, and bound to have all some day—or he thinks he knows it. That's at the bottom of this. He looks on and says to himself, 'All will be hers; then all will be mine.'"
"Don't you say that. Keep a fair balance. Remember you held a very high opinion of Palk not two months agone, when he showed by his acts to his dead sister's child that he was a high-minded man."
"I'll thank you to keep my side of this, please," he answered. "I don't much like the line you're taking, Melinda. Just ax yourself this: would any man, young or old, look at Susan as a possible help-mate and think to marry her, if he warn't counting on the jam that would go with the powder? She's my child, and I'm not one to bemoan my fortune as to that, but a woman's a woman, and was the male ever born who could look at Susan as a woman? You know very well there never was."
"You couldn't; but men ain't all so nice as you about looks. And you can't deny that apart from being a bit homely, Susan——"
"Stop!" he said. "I believe you knew about this all the time and be here as a messenger of peace! And if I thought that——"
"Don't think nothing of the sort, there's a good man. I'd so soon have expected the sun to go backward as hear any such thing. But 'tis done on your own showing, and you must be so wise as usual about it and not let the natural astonishment upset your character. It's got to be, seemingly. So start from there and see how life looks."
Melinda indeed was also thinking how life looked. Her mind ran on and she had already reached a point to which Mr. Stockman's bruised spirit was yet to bring him. She prepared to go away.
"I won't stop no more now. You'll have a lot to think over in your mind about the future. Thank goodness you be well again—and never looked better I'm sure. What's their plans?"
"Damn their plans—how about my plans?"
"You'll come to your plans gradual. And don't think 'tis the end of the world. You never know. When things turn inside out like this, we be often surprised to find there's a lot to be said for changes after all."
"'Tis mortal easy to be wise about other folk's troubles," he said.
Then Mrs. Honeysett departed and felt Joe's moody eyes upon her back as she went slowly and thoughtfully away. Soosie-Toosie's eyes were also upon her; but that she did not know.
CHAPTER XXX THE NEST
Joe Stockman, like a stricken animal, hid himself from his fellow men at this season; yet it was not curious that he should conceal his tribulation from fellow men, because he knew that sympathy must be denied. To run about among the people, grumbling because his daughter had found a husband, was a course that Joe's humour told him would win no commiseration. He was much more likely to be congratulated on an unexpected piece of good luck. Even Melinda, with every kindly feeling for him, proved not able to show regret; and if she could not, none might be looked for elsewhere. But he made it evident to those chiefly involved that he little liked the match; he declined to see any redeeming features and went so far as to say that the countryside would be shocked with Susan for leaving her father under such circumstances. To his surprise he could not shake her as at first he had hoped to do. She was meek, and solicitous for his every wish as usual; she failed not to anticipate each desire of his mind; she knew, by long practice, how to read his eyes without a word; but upon this one supreme matter she showed amazing determination.
She did not speak of it; neither did Thomas, and when his master, who had failed for the moment to get a new horseman worthy of Falcon Farm, invited Palk to stop another month, he agreed to do so. But Thomas grumbled to Maynard when they were alone, and at the same time heard something from Lawrence that interested him.
They were hoeing the turnips together and the elder spoke.
"There's no common decency about the man in my opinion," he said. "Goodjer take him! He's like a sulky boy and pretends that facts ban't facts, while every day of the week shows they are. And patience is very well, but it don't make you any younger. Here I've pleased him by promising to stop another month, and when I did that, I had a right to think it would break down his temper and stop the silly rummage he talks about a thankless child and so on. You know how he goes on—chittering at me and Susan, but
never to us—just letting out as if he was talking to the fire, or the warmingpan on the wall—of course for us to hear."
"He's took it very hard no doubt. Of course it's a shatterer. He didn't know his luck; and when you suddenly see your luck, for the first time just afore it's going to be taken away from you, it makes you a bit wild," explained Lawrence.
"Let him be wild with himself then, and cuss himself—not us. Look at it —I meet his convenience and go on so mild as Moses, working harder than ever, and all I get be sighs and head-shakings; and you always see his lips saying 'sarpent' to himself every time you catch his eye. It's properly ondacent, because there's duties staring the man in the face and he's trying his damnedest to wriggle out of 'em!"
"What duties?"
"Why, his daughter's wedding, I should think! Surely it's up to him, whatever he feels against it, to give the woman a fatherly send off. Not that I care a cuss, and should be the better pleased if he wasn't there glumping and glowering and letting all men see he hated the job; but Susan be made of womanly feeling, and she reckons he did ought to come to the church and give her away, all nice and suent, same as other parents do. And after that there ought to be a rally of neighbours and some pretty eating and drinking, and good wishes and an old shoe for luck when us goes off to the station man and wife. And why the hell not?"
"I dare say it will work out like that. You must allow for the shock, Tom. He'd got to rely on you and your future wife like his right and left hand; and to have the pair of you snatched away together—— He's a man with a power of looking forward and, of course, he can see, in a way you can't, what he'll feel like when you both vanish off the scene."
"You be always his side."
"No, no—not in this matter, anyway. I know very well what you feel like, and nobody wishes you joy better than me. You've got a grand wife, and I've always thought a lot of you myself as you know. But 'tis just the
great good fortune that's fallen to you makes it so much the worse for him. He knows what he's losing, and you can't expect him to be pleased. He'll calm down in a week or two."
"Let the man do the same then and take another. There's a very fine woman waiting for him."
"There is; and he'll take her no doubt; but there again, he knows that you can't have anything for nothing."
"He had his daughter for nothing."
"Yes, and got used to it; but he won't have Melinda Honeysett for nothing. A daughter like Susan gives all and expects no return; a wife like Mrs. Honeysett will want a run for her money. And Joe knows mighty well it will have to be give and take in future."
"Quite right too."
"There's another thing hanging over master. It won't seem much compared with you going. But I'm off before very long myself."
"By gor! You going too!"
"In the fall I reckon."
"When he hears that, he'll throw the house out of windows!"
"Not him. I'm nobody."
"If it's all the same to you, I'd be glad if you didn't break this to Stockman till our job's a thought forwarder," said Thomas. "He can only stand a certain amount. You was more to him than me really. This will very like turn him against human nature in general, and if he gets desperate, he may disgrace himself."
"I shan't speak just yet."
"We was much hoping—Soosie and me—that he'd go bald-headed for Melinda before this—if only to hit back. Because, if he done that, he might cut my future wife out of his will you see. And, in his present spirit of mind, I believe it would comfort him a lot to do so—and tell me he had."
"No, no—he wouldn't lower himself like that. And as for Mrs. Honeysett, I reckon he's to work in that quarter. He can't strike all of a sudden, of course, because the people would say he'd only done it for his own convenience; but he'll be about her before long I expect. He's been saying in a good few places that he must marry now."
"He named her name at Green Hayes to my certain knowledge," said Thomas, "and Mrs. Bamsey heard him do so; and she told Arthur Chaffe, the carpenter; and he told his head man; and he told me. And he said more. He said that Arthur Chaffe had marked that Joe had lost a lot of his old bounce and weren't by no means so charming as he used to be."
"There's no doubt this job has upset him a lot."
"Then where's his religion? He did ought to remember he can't go sailing on and have everything his own way all his life, no more than anybody else."
They hoed together shoulder to shoulder, then reached the end of their rows and turned again.
"There's a religious side no doubt," admitted Maynard. "And we never feel more religious, if we're religious-minded at all, than after a stroke of good fortune; and never less so than after a stroke of bad. And I'm telling you what I know there, because I've been called to go into such things pretty close. There's nothing harder than to break away from what you was taught as a child. 'Tis amazing how a thing gets rooted into a young mind, and how difficult it may be for the man's sense to sweep it away come he grows up."
Mr. Palk, however, was not concerned with such questions.
"I don't want to break away from nothing," he said. "I only want for Stockman to treat me and his daughter in a right spirit. And what I say is, if his religion and church-going, not to name his common sense, can't lead him right, it's a very poor advertisement for his boasted wisdom."
"So it would be; but he'll come round and do right, only give him time," answered Lawrence.
"And what's in your mind?" asked Thomas presently, as he stood up to rest his back. "Have you got another billet in sight?"
"No. I much want to get abroad. It's always been a wish with me to see a foreign country."
"A very fine idea. I'd so soon do the same as not; but I heard a chap say that you find the land pretty near all under machinery if you go foreign. And I shouldn't care to quit hosses at my time of life."
"There's your wife to think on. She'd never like to put the sea between her and her father."
"As to that," answered Palk, "it's going to be largely up to him. If he carries on like what he's doing now, he'll have to pay for it; because the woman's only a human woman and she haven't deserved this conduct. Why, God's light! if she'd stole his money-box and set the house on fire he couldn't take it no worse!"
These things were heard by another pair of ears in the evening of that day, for then Maynard saw Dinah again. But much passed between the lovers before they reached the subject of Susan and Thomas. Maynard had been deeply interested to hear of Dinah's sudden departure, of which she had told him nothing, and he had puzzled ever since learning the fact mentioned by Melinda Honeysett. For he did not guess her purpose, or her destination, and the fact that she had gone away only served to explain her need for money. She let him know, however, before they met, and that without any word; for during her absence, there came a picture postcard to
Lawrence—a coloured picture of Barnstaple parish church; and that told him everything.
He trusted her, but knew her forthright ways and felt very anxious to see her again. The date and place for their next meeting had been fixed between them at their last conversation, and as he had heard that Dinah was returned, he knew that she would keep the appointment. He brooded for hours upon her action and inclined to a shadow of regret that she should have taken it, yet the fact did not astonish him, looking back at their last meeting; for had Dinah asked permission to go, he would not have suffered it in his mood at the time. That she knew; and yet she had gone. He recognised the immense significance of her action and the time seemed interminable until the dusk of that day, when he was free. The night came mild and grey with a soft mist. Their meeting place was a gate in a lane one mile from Green Hayes among the woods ascending to Buckland. There it had been planned they should join each other for the last time before one, or both, disappeared from the Vale.
Maynard felt a curious sense of smallness as he went to the tryst. He seemed to be going to meet somebody stronger, more resolute, more steadfast of spirit than himself. Surely Dinah had done the things that would have better become him to do. And yet he could not blame himself there, for it would have been impossible for him to set foot in the town where, no doubt, his wife still lived. He had wearied himself with futile questions, impossible to answer until Dinah should meet him, and there was nothing left but intense love and worship for her in Maynard's mind when they did meet. If she had any sort of good news, so much the better; but if she had none, he yet had good news for her. He had banished the last doubt during her absence and now told himself that not moral sensibility, but moral cowardice had ever caused him to doubt. He had probed the equivocal thing in him and believed that its causes were deep down in some worthless instinct, independent of reason. She should at least find him as clear and determined as herself at last. He had decided for Australia, and the question of their separate or simultaneous disappearance was also decided. She had to hear to-night that they could not leave England together for her credit's sake. The details of their actions were also defined. He had planned a
course that would, he hoped, suit Dinah well enough, though as yet he knew not whether any word of hers might modify it.
She was waiting for him and came into his arms with joy. She guessed that her postcard had revealed her adventure and began by begging for forgiveness. This he granted, but bade her talk first.
"It's made me long to go out in the world," she said. "Just this taste. I've never seemed to understand there was anything beyond Ashburton and Lower Town; but now I've gone afield and seen miles and miles of England, and I've met people that never heard of the Vale. Say you ban't cross again, my dear heart. You know very well why I went. It rose up on me like a flame of fire—to make sure. I told 'em at Green Hayes I had some business up the country and they think I went to be married—Jane's idea that was. She's positive sure I'm married, though I've told her in plain words I'm not. Of course they be curious, but I couldn't tell a lie about it. So I said 'business.'"
"Never mind them. I won't swear I'd have said 'no' if you'd asked me, Dinah—not if I'd thought twice. It was a natural, needful point, and you grasped it quicker than I did, and no doubt made up your mind while I was maundering on about the law. I saw all that after I got your card. But I couldn't have gone myself."
"It was my work and I've done it; and I wish more had come of it. But nothing has. I took a room in a little inn near the station and tramped about and found her shop in the best part of the town. A big place with fine windows—a dairy and creamery and refreshment room. Just 'Courtier' over the windows, in big, gold letters, and a few maidens inside and—tea. I marked her, of course, the minute I saw her. She's in the shop herself— rather grand, but not above lending a hand when they're busy. She's up in the world. They knew about her at the inn where I stopped, and told me the story. They said her husband went mad on the honeymoon and disappeared off the earth. I went to the shop three times and had my tea there, and the second time there was a man at the counter talking to her. But he didn't look much of it. So there it is. She's going on with her life just as you thought, and making money; and what the people see, I saw, and what they don't see,
or know, is no matter. But she was quite pleased with herself—a cheerful woman to the eye. You can tell that much.
"She's worn well I should think. She's a pretty woman; but she's hard and her voice is hard. She wouldn't have no mercy on people under her. She drove her maidens in the shop and was down on 'em if they talked much to customers. At my inn she was spoke very well of and thought a bit of a wonder. You was forgot. They said it was thought you killed yourself. And now that the seven years are up, some fancied she might marry again, but others didn't think she ever would, being too independent. A man or two they mentioned; but the opinion I heard most was that she never wanted to change. I couldn't ax too much about her, of course."
So Dinah told her tale.
"I wish it had been different," she went on. "I hoped all sorts of things— that I'd find her married again, or gone, or, perhaps dead. But there she is, so large as life, and I shouldn't think she'd ever marry for love, but she might for money, or for getting a bit more power. I didn't feel to hate her in the least, or anything like that. I felt sorry for her in a way, knowing what she'd missed, and I thought, if it had been different, what a big man you might be by now. But you'll be bigger some day along with me. And so we know where we are, Lawrence."
He asked various questions, which she answered, and he observed how absolutely indifferent Dinah found herself before the facts. She evidently recognised no relationship whatever between the husband and wife. From the adventures at Barnstaple she returned to the present, and he let her talk on, waiting to speak himself till she had finished.
She had been away nine days and returned to find Jane fallen out with Jerry Withycombe. Mr. Bamsey had recognised her on her return and called her by name and made her sit beside him for a long time. But the next morning he had forgotten her again. Faith Bamsey had also thought Dinah must have disappeared to be married, but believed her when she vowed it was not so. John Bamsey was away for the time, doing bailiff's work up the river above Dartmeet.
Then he told her of his determination and greatly rejoiced her, save in one particular.
"We don't go together," he said, "and the details will very soon clear themselves; but there must be no shadow on your memory, here or anywhere, when you're gone. I give Joe notice presently and go to Australia, to get the home ready. You find work and, for a bit, keep that work. Then you leave it for London, or a big town, where ships sail from, and your passage is took and you come along. That leaves them guessing here, and none can ever say a word against you. But so sure as we go together, then Stockman tells everybody that I'm a married man, and the harm's done."
"You do puzzle me!" she answered. "You can't get this bee out of your bonnet, Lawrence—such a clever chap as you, too. What in fortune's name does it matter what Cousin Joe says about you, or what the people believe about me? I know you're not married, and when I wed you I shall be your one and lawful wife. Who else is there—now foster-father be gone? That was the only creature on earth I could hurt, and he's past hurting, poor old dear. I like your plan all through but there. I'm going when you go, and half the joy of my life would be lost if I didn't sail along with you in the ship. That I do bargain for. Oh, I wish it was to-morrow we were running away!"
"I hate to run."
"I love it—yes, I do, now. I wish to God I wasn't going to lose sight of you again. But it won't be for long."
They spoke of the details and he pointed out that her plan must increase the difficulties somewhat, yet she would take no denial.
"What's all this fuss for? False pride," she said. "You've got to think for me the way I want you to think, not the way you want to think. If we know we're right, why should we fret if all the rest of the world thought different? I'm hungry and thirsty to go and be in a new world with you. I want you and I want a new world. And you will be my new world for that matter."
"I know that."
"Together then. 'Twould spoil all any other way. 'Twould be small any other way. 'Twould be cringing to the Vale."
He laughed.
"I can't keep you here in the rain all night. The next thing is our post office—from now on."
"Promise about my going with you."
"That means thinking over all the plans again."
"Think them over again then; and I'll help. And I've found the post office. List!"
They kept silence for half a minute, but Dinah had only heard a nightbird.
"'Tis here!" she said, "twenty yards down the lane. I found it in the spring—a wrennys' nest hid under the ivy on the bank. No better place. 'Tis empty now and snug as need be."
He accompanied her to the spot, lit matches and examined the proposed post office. It was safe enough, for the snug, domed nest lay completely hidden under a shower of ivy, and Dinah had only discovered it by seeing the little birds pop in when they were building.
Lawrence doubted; it seemed a frail receptacle for vital news; but it was dry and as safe as possible.
"I'd thought to put a tobacco tin under a stone somewhere," he said, "but perhaps this couldn't be beat."
He took careful note of it and marked the exact spot as well as he could in the dark. A sapling grew in the hedge opposite and he took his knife and blazed the bark behind, where only he, or Dinah, would find the cut.
"There'll be a letter for you in a few days," she said, "for I know I've forgot a thousand things; and when your new plans be finished, you'll write
'em for me."
"We must go slow and steady," he answered. "I've got to give Joe warning presently, and I don't mean to be out of work longer than I can help. When we know what we're going to do to the day, then I'll speak; and he won't like it none too well. He's terrible under the weather about Susan."
He told her the Falcon Farm news, with details which she had not heard.
"I'm sorry for Cousin Joe, but mighty glad for Susan, and I'm coming up one day to supper to congratulate her—why not?"
"It will be something just to look at you across the table," he said, "but we'd best speak little to each other."
Dinah grew listless as the moment for leave-taking came. Her mood was shadowed.
"I know it's right and wise to keep apart now," she told him. "And I know we can never have none of the old faces round us when we're married, and none of the little pleasures that go with old friends. But I am sorry. It's small, but I am sorry."
"So am I, for your sake," he answered. "And it's not small. It's natural. This is the only home you know, and the only folks you know are in it. And most are kindly and good. It only looks small against the bigger thing of being together for evermore. The time won't be long. 'Twill slip away quicker than you'll like I guess. And there's plenty of new friends waiting for us down under."
"It's cruel of life," she cried. "It's hard and cruel of life to make love like ours so difficult. Open air, daylight creatures, like us, to be called to plot and scheme and hide against the frozen silliness of the world. Just the things I hate most. And now we must trust the house a little bird have made with things that we'd both be proud to shout from the church steeple!"
"I know every bit what you're feeling. I feel it too—I hate it more than you do—knowing what you are. It will soon be over."
"I'll come up and look at you anyhow," said Dinah. "That won't shock the people; and I dare say, now that Susan knows what it is to love a man— but don't you fear. I won't kiss you even with my eyes, Lawrence."
"Susan wouldn't see nothing for that matter," he said. "Love be a dour pastime for her and Palk as things are. They be like us in a way—frightened to look at each other under that roof."
"But firm," she said. "Cousin Joe ain't going to choke Susan off it?"
"Not him. She'll take Thomas, so sure as you take me."
Dinah was cheerful again before he left her.
"When we'm married, I'll always be wanting to kiss you afore the people," she said, "just for the joy of doing it openly."
Then they parted, to meet no more in secret until they should never part again.
He half regretted her determination to sail with him, as he tramped home; yet he felt in no mind to argue the point. In his present spirit, sharing her indignation that his fellow men would thrust him away from Dinah for ever if they could, he cared little more than she for what their world might say and think when they had vanished from it for a larger.
CHAPTER XXXI
JOE'S SUNDAY
Melinda stood at her door and spoke to her neighbour, Mr. Harry Ford, the gardener. He was a red-whiskered man of fifty, and he and Mrs. Honeysett viewed life somewhat similarly.
"You bad creature," she said, "working in your garden o' Sunday!"
This was the sort of remark on which Harry never wasted speech. He went on with his digging.
"I wish the second early potatoes were coming up so well at the Court as they are here in my little patch," he remarked. "But they haven't got the nice bit o' sand in the soil as we have."
He rested a moment.
"How's Jerry going on?" he asked. "Have it come right?"
"No, I'm sorry to say; and yet not sorry neither. She's keeping all this up because he vexed her Easter Monday. They was at Ashburton revel together and she says he took a drop too much and very near ran the trap over Holne Bridge and broke her neck coming home. And he says no such thing. But the real trouble is about the blessed shop Jane wants to start at Ashburton after marriage. She's for a tobacco shop, and Jerry wants for it to be greengrocer's, where he can do his part. My own belief is that Jane Bamsey's getting tired of Jerry. If the wedding had gone through when it was ordained, all might have been well; but owing to Ben Bamsey's illness and sad downfall after, 'twas put off. I never much liked her I may tell you, no more didn't my father."
"He must have been a bit of a wonder—a very clever man they say."
"He was a clever man."
"Did he believe in the ghost in my house, Mrs. Honeysett?"
"He did not—no more than you do."
He paused and looked at her. Melinda appeared more than usually attractive. She was in her Sunday gown—a black one, for she still mourned her parent; but she had brightened it with some mauve satin bows, and she wore her best shoes with steel buckles.
"There is a ghost in the house, however," declared the gardener.
"Never!"
"Yes—the ghost of a thought in my mind," he explained.
"Ideas do grow."
"If they stick, then they grow. Now I'll ax you a question, and you've no call to answer it if you don't want. You might say 'twas a hole in my manners to ax, perhaps."
"I'm sure you wouldn't make a hole in your manners, Mr. Ford."
"I hope not. 'Tis this, then. What might the late Mr. Withycombe have thought of Farmer Stockman up the hill?"
Melinda parried the question.
"Well, you never can say exactly what one man thinks of another, because time and chance changes the opinion. A man will vex you to-day and please you next week. Sometimes what he does and says is contrary to your opinions, and then again, he may do or say something that brings him back to you."
"He liked him and didn't like him—off and on? But he'd made up his mind in a general way about his character?"
"I suppose he had."
"I know he had."
"How should you know?"
"Because I was at the trouble to find out."
"Fancy!"
"Yes. I sounded a man here and there. I went to Chaffe, the carpenter."
"Arthur Chaffe knew father very well and respected him, though he didn't hold with his opinions about religion."
"Religion I never touch—too kicklish a subject. But I spoke to Chaffe, and being friendly disposed to me—and why not?—he said a thing I might be allowed to name to you in confidence."
"Certainly," said Melinda, "if it's nothing against my father."
"Far from it. And I hope you'll take it as 'tis meant."
"I always take everything like that."
"That's right then. Well, Chaffe, knowing me for a pretty quiet man and a hater of gossip, told me the late fox-hunter saw very clear you'd go to Joe Stockman after he was took——"
"How could he?"
"Well, I don't know how he could. But he did. And though too tender to whisper it in your ear, he told Chaffe that he was sorry!"
"Good Lord, you surprise me!"
"No business of mine, you'll say. And yet I felt somehow that if your father—such a man as him—felt sorry, there was a reason why for he should. And I won't deny but I told Chaffe he ought to mention it to you. He wouldn't, because he said the thing was too far gone."
"What's gone too far?"
"You know best. But people have ears and Stockman's got a tongue."
Mrs. Honeysett showed annoyance, while Harry returned to his potatoes.
"You're telling me what I know, however," she said. He purposely misunderstood.
"You knew your good father didn't care for Mr. Stockman at bottom?"
"I know he's talking."
"The only thing that matters to know is your own mind, not what's in other people's, or in his."
At this moment a black-coated figure appeared on the high road and, much to Mr. Ford's regret, turned up the lane to the cottages.
"Talk of——!" he said.
It was Mr. Stockman.
"He's coming here and—and—I hoped something weren't going to happen for the minute," confessed Melinda; "but now I reckon it may be."
"Well, if you're in doubt, nobody else is," said Mr. Ford striking boldly. "Farmer's sounding his victory far and near—not a very witty thing to do when an old man's after a young woman."
Melinda ignored the compliment and viewed the approaching figure with impassive features.
"He's cut the ground from under his own feet as to his age," she answered, "for if you cry out you're old before your time, of course people must believe you."
Mr. Ford could not answer for Stockman was within earshot.
He showed a holiday humour, but reproved Harry.
"Working o' Sunday!" he said.
"There's all sorts o' work, master," replied the gardener. "I dare say now that the better the day the better the deed holds of your job so well as mine."
"You're a sharp one! And how's Melinda?"
"Very well," she said. "You wasn't to church this morning."
"I was not. I meant coming down the hill again this afternoon, to drink a dish of tea with you, if you please; and though twice up and down the hill be naught to me, yet I shirked it."
They went in together.
"Where's Jerry?" he asked.
"Mooning down to Green Hayes on the chance of getting things right."
"Good. He'll fetch her round; though I doubt she's worth it."
"So do I."
"However, I'm not here, as you'll guess, about your brother. The time has come, Melinda."
"You've let 'em name the day then—Susan and Thomas?"
"No such thing; but they'll be naming it themselves pretty soon. They'll be away in a month or two I expect. And I want for the house to be swept and garnished then. I want a lot done. I've suffered a great deal of undeserved trouble in that quarter, and there's wicked words being said about my treatment of my child. The people have short memories."
"There's wicked words being said about a lot of things. It's been said, for instance, up and down the Vale, that you've told a score you be going to marry me, Joe. That's a proper wicked thing, I should think."
He was much concerned.
"Good God! What a nest of echoes we live in! But there it is. When a thing's in the air—whether 'tis fern seed, or a bit of scandal, or a solemn truth, it will settle and stick and grow till the result appears. No doubt the general sense of the folk, knowing how I've felt to you for years, made up this story and reckoned it was one of they things that Providence let out before the event. Marriages be made in Heaven they say, Melinda."
"But they ain't blazed abroad on earth, I believe, afore both parties choose to mention it."
"Most certainly not; but if you move in the public eye, people will be talking."
"Yes, they will, if they be started talking. I met Ann Slocombe to Lower Town three days agone and she congratulated me on my engagement to you."
"Who the devil's Ann Slocombe?"
"She's a woman very much like other women. And I told her it was stuff and nonsense, and far ways from anything that had happened, or was going to happen."
"No need to have said that, I hope. 'Tis the curious case of——"
"'Tis the curious case of talking before you know," said Melinda tartly. "What would you have thought if I'd told people you'd gone down to Brixham, to offer yourself to a woman there?"
"God's my judge I——"
Mr. Stockman broke off.
"This is very ill-convenient, Melinda, and quite out of tune with me and the day, and what's in my mind. If I've spoke of you with great affection to one or two tried friends—friends now no more—then I can only ax you to overlook their freedom of speech. I've been in a very awkward position for a long time, and made of justice as you are, you must see it. For look how things fell out. First, just as I was coming to the great deed and going to ax you to be mistress of Falcon Farm, there happened your dear father's grievous illness and his death. Well, I couldn't jump at you with my heart in my hand, while you was crying your eyes out and feeling your fearful loss. And then, just as the clouds were lifting and the way clear, what happened? My misguided girl takes this false step. And that cut two ways. First there was the disaster itself, and then, in a flash, I saw that if I came to you on top
