Читать книгу Discovering Dr Riley - Annie Claydon, Annie Claydon - Страница 11

NOT SO FAST. Cori could see Tom out of the corner of her eye, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. She’d spent all of yesterday evening making fairies, and her lunchtime today attaching the little LED lights to the tips of their wands. He’d found his way here, and if he thought he was going anywhere before they talked this out, he was mistaken.

‘Dr Riley. We need some help here.’

She called over to him, indicating the child beside her. Tom turned, his eyes narrowing in an indication that he knew full well that she wasn’t playing fair, and she grinned at him in reply.

He moved across the grass towards her with all the affability of a tiger caught in a trap. He lifted the child up in his arms so she could reach the fairy that she wanted, never taking his gaze from Cori’s face.

‘Thank you.’ The little girl responded to a prompt from her father and thanked him, and Tom’s face broke into the kind of smile that Cori would have decorated the whole hospital with fairies for.

‘You’re very welcome.’ He bent down, watching as the child inspected the fairy. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Only I know it.’

Tom nodded gravely. ‘Right. Well don’t forget to take good care of her. She needs to have breakfast every morning.’

‘Porridge?’

‘Yep. I’m told that fairies are very partial to porridge. Particularly during the winter.’

The child nodded. ‘Can Hannah have one?’

Tom allowed himself to be drawn into choosing and obtaining a fairy for the child with the injured arm. Before he was finished, Cori had given away another four, as hospital staff and visitors stopped to look at the tree.

‘Dr Riley?’ A man in a suit and overcoat was marching across the grass towards them. Tom turned away from the children, and the corner of the man’s mouth twitched downwards.

‘Now we’re in for it …’ He murmured the words as he passed behind Cori, moving forward to meet the man. ‘Alan. Have you come to make a wish?’

It didn’t look as if the man believed in fairies. Cori noticed that a couple of the nurses who’d been lingering under the tree had melted away, leaving the sparkling branches to those who were obviously not employed at the hospital and therefore not subject to the disapproval of its administrators.

‘Just came to see what’s going on.’ Alan was looking round with an assessing gaze.

‘Make-a-wish Friday.’ Tom’s smile would have cracked an iceberg, but he was obviously improvising, and Cori stepped forward. If anyone was going to get into trouble for this, then it should be her.

‘It’s all my …’ She felt fingers close around the sleeve of her coat and Tom pulled her back a couple of steps.

‘These are all Cori’s creations. She’s attached to the unit temporarily and she’s been doing some stupendous work. We had some leftover fairies and I thought it was a shame for them to go to waste.’

‘You’re supervising this?’

‘Absolutely. Can’t have people wandering around hospital grounds making unsupervised wishes.’

Cori opened her mouth to speak and Tom turned to face her. For a moment his gaze met hers and she forgot what she was about to say.

‘I suppose …’ Alan looked around and gave a small shrug. ‘There is a procedure to go through for anything like this in the hospital grounds, though.’

‘Yes, I know. I apologise, but it was an off-the-cuff thing. Next time we’ll go through the right channels.’ Tom’s gaze swung around to Alan, and for a moment it was touch-and-go as to who was going to outstare who. Then Alan backed down.

‘No apologies needed, I’m sure. Good work … um …’

‘Cori Evans.’ Tom smiled beatifically in Cori’s direction.

‘Good work, Ms Evans. Thank you. You’re the new art therapist?’

‘Temporary art therapist.’ The years when she’d moved from one foster home to another, before finding a home with Ralph and Jean, had taught Cori that the ‘T’ word was one to be both respected and feared. Knowing the difference between something that might work out and something that was strictly temporary was vital to one’s own sense of self-worth.

‘Did I mention that the unit could really do with someone on a permanent basis?’ Tom broke in again.

‘Several times.’ Alan bestowed a hurried smile on Cori, and obviously decided it was time to retreat. Tom watched him go, his face impassive.

‘I’m sorry.’ She’d tried to get Tom’s attention, and had ended up getting into hot water. And, unlikely as it might seem, it had been Tom who’d come to her rescue.

He shrugged. ‘It’s okay. Alan’s all right, he just gets a bit scratchy when you don’t fill in the necessary forms. Next time you take anything out of the unit, let Maureen know. She’ll notify the right people.’

‘Yes. I’ll do that.’ There wasn’t going to be a next time. This had been all about getting Tom’s attention, finding out why he seemed so dead set against her working in the unit. And Cori had found out a great deal more than she’d wanted to know.

‘Look …’ He turned suddenly. In the darkness, his hair seemed every colour from blond to tawny. ‘I thought that you knew that the funding for the art therapy scheme had been cut. I don’t know who omitted to tell you that, but I intend to find out.’

‘It’s okay …’

‘It’s not okay.’ He frowned.

‘It will have been the scheme supervisor at the local health authority. She’s been under a lot of stress recently, so I suppose she must have forgotten, and she’s on holiday now so she hasn’t responded to any of my emails.’ Cori shrugged. ‘Please. Leave it. I don’t want to get her into trouble.’

‘In that case, I’ll deliver the reprimand to myself, for not making sure that you understood the situation.’

‘No. Please, don’t do that either. It won’t change anything.’ She could feel tears pricking at the sides of her eyes now, and hoped that the darkness would hide them from him. ‘This is why you have your reservations about me doing clinical work in the unit, isn’t it? You don’t want me to start something when there’s no chance of any follow-up.’

‘Yeah. I just don’t think it’s fair to offer therapy to someone and have it stopped after only eight weeks. I’m sorry, Cori.’ He seemed suddenly very close. Close enough to put his arm around her, and if he did that she would make a fool of herself and start crying.

‘Don’t …’ She took a step backwards. ‘There’s no need to be sorry. You’re right.’ He was acting in his patients’ best interests and Cori couldn’t argue with that. But she couldn’t just accept it either.

‘Will you give me an hour? Please? Just one hour of your time.’

He shot her a melting look that seemed to say he understood all her hopes, all her fears. ‘In all fairness I have to tell you that I can’t change my mind. You’re welcome to hold general groups and sessions on the unit, but I won’t offer you anything more.’

‘Maybe there’s something else I can do … Please. Just an hour.’ He hesitated, and Cori took her opportunity. ‘What harm can it do to listen?’

He shook his head. Then he smiled, and suddenly she was looking at the Tom Riley who had such a special connection with the children under his care. The one who could make people feel that everything was all right with the world.

‘Okay. But you come alone. No fairies.’

‘Of course not. That would be an unfair advantage.’

He nodded. ‘I don’t have much time next week. But I’m dropping in to the hospital tomorrow and I’ll be finished at about four. Will that suit you?’

‘Four o’clock is fine.’

‘Okay, I have your mobile number, I’ll call you then.’ He looked around at the fairies. ‘What are you going to do with these?’

Cori shrugged. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any shortage of takers for them. I think I’ll stop here for another fifteen minutes and give them away.’

‘You don’t want to save them for another time?’

She shook her head. ‘Nah. I can always make more, and I think these all deserve a home now.’

‘Having done what they were meant to do for tonight?’

He’d come uncomfortably close to the truth, but Cori wasn’t about to admit it. ‘You think this was all for you?’

‘I’m not that self-centred. I think you want to be of benefit to the children, and to do that you need to catch my attention. And that you found a way to do that which also highlighted your own skills.’

Was that a compliment or a warning? Was he telling her he knew what she was up to and that he was more than a match for her? Before Cori could even begin to work it out, he was walking away.

Tom parked in the tree-lined avenue at the address that Cori had given him. A large Victorian mansion, converted into flats, stood back from the road. Running his finger down the row of names next to the door, he found Cori’s and pressed the bell alongside it, hearing a chime sound from somewhere deep inside the house.

She answered almost immediately, wearing a padded coat that engulfed her small frame, accessorised with striped gloves, a scarf and a brightly coloured woollen beret, set at a rakish angle. Tom found himself wondering whether jeans and a leather jacket were quite right for the occasion. Somehow a suit would have made this outing feel more professional and less like a date.

‘Is this thing you want to show me far?’

‘We only have an hour, so we’ll go by car.’ Tom’s gaze followed her pointing finger to a small, rather battered blue car. ‘We could take mine, but the heater’s broken …’

He imagined that the suspension was as old as the bodywork looked. And although it was nearly a week since he’d examined the bruises on her shoulder and hip, some of them had been deep enough to still be hurting her. ‘We’ll take mine. You can give me directions.’

She nodded, looking slightly relieved. ‘Yes. More comfortable.’

As he opened the door for her, and she slid carefully into the passenger seat, the world suddenly felt right again. Working in the unit today had carried with it a sense of dislocation, as if something was missing, something that he had been doing his best to ignore. Now that Cori was in his car, Tom realised what that something had been.

‘So what is it you want me to see?’ They’d driven through a maze of back streets, until he’d lost his bearings.

‘I’d rather it took you by surprise.’ When he glanced across at her, her face had taken on an impish expression.

‘Ah. So it would be wrong of me to try and guess.’

‘Very wrong. Turn left here.’

They drew up outside a building that Tom recognised as the old town hall, which now housed a community centre and various offices. Cori led the way along a broken path that wound its way to the back of the building, and then down some metal steps into a gloomy passageway that led to the sub-basement space. Tom squinted at the metal plate on the door, recognising the name of a local charity working with families affected by domestic violence.

His heart felt as if it were stopping. How could she know? No one knew. His childhood was the one part of Tom’s life that he kept strictly private.

‘What’s this?’ His voice sounded distant, as if he’d left his body and was already halfway up the steps and out of there.

‘I’ve been working here with some friends from art college. I want you to see what we’ve been able to do.’ She pressed a rather ancient-looking buzzer on one side of the door.

‘Your CV says you’ve been working at another hospital.’ Suspicion clawed at him. If she was trying to gain his favour, by thinking she knew what made him tick, she was going about it in quite the wrong way.

‘Yes, that’s right. I was there for a year, covering for one of the therapists who was on maternity leave. I worked here at the weekends.’ She turned to him, her face bright in the darkness. ‘We finished up last Sunday. Or rather the others finished up. I was unavoidably detained elsewhere.’

So this was what she’d been doing when she’d fallen off the ladder. Before Tom could think about apologising for the suspicions he hadn’t voiced, the door opened and warm light flooded out into the gloomy passageway.

‘Cori.’ The woman at the door hugged her gingerly. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Fine, thanks. I’ve been resting up.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ The woman turned a smile onto Tom, as if she suspected he’d probably had something to do with that. ‘You’re Dr Riley? Welcome. I’m Lena Graves, the centre’s director.’

Lena motioned them both inside, into a small reception area. It was then that Tom realised why he was there.