Discovering Dr Riley

‘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.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_8b188e51-51e2-5277-be29-f5d9064215ac)

A FAINT SMELL of new paint still lingered in the place. Three of the walls were painted cream and the fourth was a riot of colour that stopped Tom in his tracks.

‘Fabulous …’ It was a glimpse into a world of pure fantasy. Lushly painted trees and flowers formed the framework for animals and birds, engaged in familiar, human pursuits. In one corner, a group of hedgehogs was holding a tea party. In another, flamingos were gossiping together.

The design was covered with clear plastic panels, running the length and height of the wall. ‘These are to protect it?’

Lena chuckled. ‘Not really.’

Cori picked up a marker pen from a box on the reception desk and handed it to him. ‘You’re supposed to draw on it. Have a go.’

He almost didn’t dare. ‘And it wipes off?’

‘That’s the idea. I’ve wanted to do something like this for a while, and Lena agreed to let us try it out here.’

‘It’s working well so far. The children love it. One little guy spent all afternoon here yesterday. He drew a picture of himself sitting in a chair next to the hedgehogs.’ Lena grinned. ‘The staff like doing their thing with it too. At the end of the day we just wipe it all down, ready for tomorrow’s designs.’

The tip of the marker pen hovered over the smooth, clear surface. ‘You’re thinking too much.’ He heard Cori’s voice close behind him.

‘Yeah. Guess I am.’ Tom stepped back, putting the cap back onto the pen. ‘What happens if someone … if the drawings the kids make become challenging?’

‘Challenging to who? The people who draw, or the people who are looking?’ She looked up at him thoughtfully. ‘Does that matter?’

‘It might. If it’s disruptive.’

‘This area’s always supervised. And most of the children who come here with their parents are traumatised because of their family situations. I imagine that Lena will tell you that drawing isn’t the most disruptive way of revealing that trauma.’

‘Not by a very long chalk.’ Lena grinned. ‘Anyway, sometimes it’s the ones who sit quietly in the corner, and can’t bring themselves to reveal anything, who worry me the most.’

‘As opposed to someone like me, who reveals everything by painting all over your walls?’ Cori chuckled, nudging Lena.

‘We’re not getting into that. We’ll be here all evening.’ Lena turned to Tom. ‘There’s more I’d like to show you. Through here, when you’re ready …’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’ Tom couldn’t take his eyes off the huge painting. It was like Cori, disturbing and confronting and yet captivating. Something he wanted to touch, but he knew that once he did so he would be unable to conceal the feelings that had the power to destroy him if he let them have their way.

‘He’s the only one.’ Lena shrugged, mouthing the words to Cori as Tom turned from the painting, walking briskly away from it. He was the only person, adult or child, who had stood in front of the wall art with a pen in their hand without making their own addition to the design, however tiny.

And it was Tom Riley, the man who was in charge of her future for the next seven weeks, who had turned out to be completely immune to the temptation to draw. The one man she wanted to impress, and her best shot at doing just that had left him cold.

Maybe he was just trying to be objective. To not get involved so that he could make a better decision. Cori held on to that thought, allowing Lena to usher him into the activities room.

He spent a while looking at everything. The child-sized painted chairs, each of which had an individual design snaking up the legs and across the back. The art table, which she had arranged like a sweet shop, different pens and paper displayed with an implicit invitation to touch, to pick up and to draw.

‘We got the chairs from a recycling charity.’ She had to say something to break the silence. ‘Some of them were a bit rickety, but we fixed them up and painted them …’ This morning it had seemed like a good idea to show him this. Now she was wondering whether she hadn’t blown things completely.

‘They’re great.’ Finally, he smiled. Not the conspiratorial, we-know-a-secret smile that she liked more than she cared to say, but it was something at least.

‘The wall here is painted with a wipe-clean surface.’ She ran her hand across the hard, white finish. ‘It’s a different experience from the one outside. A clean slate.’

He nodded. ‘You’re encouraging the kids to paint on the walls?’

Lena came to her rescue. ‘Just this wall. This is an experiment too. If we find too much graffiti all over the place then we’ll paint over it and put it down to experience.’

‘It’s a lot of effort just to paint over.’

‘If we try something and it doesn’t work, that’s not wasted effort. We learn and do better the next time. Lena’s been great in allowing us to experiment a bit.’ Cori flashed a grin towards Lena, who nodded, encouraging her to go on. ‘You wanted to see something where the benefits didn’t rely on having an in-house art therapist. I think this is it.’

‘And how much did all of this cost? Just a ballpark figure.’

Cori caught her breath. If he was going to dismiss it out of hand, surely he wouldn’t have asked that.

‘Cori’s group is self-funding.’ Lena stepped in again. ‘We couldn’t have afforded this on our budget.’

He turned to her. The approval in his eyes was breathtaking. ‘How much?’

‘I’d … have to work it out. I can supply you with figures, but … Well, I’d prefer it if you would come to see our fundraising operation.’ Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

‘You have an … operation?’ He raised one eyebrow.

‘Well, that might be a bit of an overstatement …’ No. They did. And she was proud of it. ‘Yes, we do. And when you’ve finished looking around here, I’d like you to see it.’

As they left the building and walked back to the car, the cold evening air on his face seemed to jolt Tom back into the here and now. ‘Where are we going this time?’

‘The High Street. You carry on down here, take a left and then keep going until you get to the traffic lights.’ She settled herself into the passenger seat of his car and buckled the seat belt, clearly not inclined to give any more information about what he was going to see.

‘Right.’ He started the engine, wondering what she was going to come up with next.

There were no clues from the place she indicated as a parking spot, and he became more baffled as she led him into a bright, warm tea shop, bustling with activity. Sitting down at a table, she loosened her scarf and coat, and signalled to a waitress.

‘Hi, Cori. Pot of green tea?’

‘Yes, thanks. Tom …?’

At some point in the course of the afternoon she’d responded to his request to stop calling him Dr Riley. Tom couldn’t remember quite when that had been, but it felt good, as if she’d acknowledged that he might be at least partially on her side.

‘Earl Grey, please.’ He settled back in his chair, looking around. ‘You run a tea shop?’