Adrian and he got left in the waiting room on his own. The staff found him curled up in a corner.’
A little boy, lost and alone. Tom felt a sudden heaviness in his chest, as if something was trying to stop him from breathing. ‘Which is why he wouldn’t let go of you?’
‘Yes. And why I said there was nothing wrong with me.’ She shrugged, and winced painfully. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you all this, but I guess it’s okay, since you’re his doctor. And I wanted you to know how much the way you treated him will have meant to him. He doesn’t have the words to say it. Not yet anyway.’
For a moment, Tom really couldn’t breathe, and felt himself begin to choke. Then self-control came to his rescue. ‘Thanks for telling me. Adrian’s lucky to have you to speak up for him.’
‘I’m adopted too.’ She gave him a bright smile. ‘I was lucky to have someone speak up for me when I needed it.’
And now she was paying it forward. Tom turned quickly, trying to shut out the what ifs. The fact was that no one had spoken up for him when he’d been a child, and it was far too late for anyone to do it now. He moved the bed down so she could sit on it without him having to help her up, and motioned her towards it.
‘Your X-rays are fine, so there are no breaks or fractures, but I’d like to check on the movement in your shoulder.’
She nodded, rising stiffly from the chair and sitting down on the bed. Tom raised it until they were almost face to face, trying not to allow her eyes to distract him from the job in hand.
‘I’m going to rotate your shoulder. It’s going hurt a little bit but try and relax.’
She smiled again, almost as if she was trying to reassure him. But he wasn’t supposed to be noticing her smile, let alone allowing himself to react to it like a teenager. ‘It already hurts a little bit.’
‘Right. Then it’s going to hurt a little bit more.’
It hurt. He was gentle, and measured, but it still hurt.
‘Sorry … Nearly done.’
She let out the breath she’d been holding. Somehow she’d let go of the edge of the bed, and her fingers had clutched at the closest thing to hand, the material of his white coat. She felt herself flush, and let go, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
‘Everything’s fine there. I just want to take another look at the bruising. If you could slip the gown off your shoulder …’
Cori did as he asked with trembling fingers. It was nothing. She’d shown her shoulders in public before without a second thought. But even though Tom had his back turned and was scribbling something on her notes, she was suddenly embarrassed. In the moment before she’d let go of his coat, she’d felt hard muscle flexing beneath her hand.
He was cool, and professional, his gloved fingers gently probing her shoulders and back. That just made things worse. If he’d cracked a joke, at least she could have come back with a smart reply to take the edge off the tension. Cori squeezed her eyes closed, dropping her head forward.
‘Okay. That’s good.’ He didn’t seem aware of the fact that her forehead was resting against his shoulder, and that they were in an awkward replica of an embrace. When he stepped away again, she wanted to pull him back.
‘You can get dressed now.’ His cool professionalism told Cori that the closeness was all in her head. She was just another patient in a never-ending line of them, and he’d been nice to her because he was probably nice to everyone.
‘Thanks. I appreciate everything you’ve done.’ She waited for him to lower the level of the bed so she could slip off it easily.
‘All part of the service. I’ll write a prescription for some painkillers, and see if I can find a leaflet for you to take away.’ A hint of humour shone in his eyes. ‘Apparently we have a leaflet for pretty much everything.’
He turned his back and then he was gone, leaving Cori to pull her T-shirt and sweater back on as quickly as her shaking, painful limbs would allow.
When she’d let out that choking gasp of pain, and reached for him, Tom had almost forgotten what he was supposed to be doing and given her a hug to comfort her. Then he’d reminded himself where he was, and had drawn back. He gave her more than enough time to get changed, and headed back to the cubicle, finding her dressed and ready to go.
He handed her the leaflet and she took it, scanning the page. ‘This tells you what you can do to make yourself more comfortable. You should take it easy for a few days. You have some deep bruising and it’ll hurt in the morning.’
She twisted her mouth downwards in an expression of dismay. ‘I start a new job tomorrow. Here, actually.’
‘You’d be better off staying at home.’ Then the words sank in. ‘Here?’
‘Yes, I’m an art therapist. I’m here for eight weeks, starting tomorrow …’
Cori? Corrine Evans? Suddenly Tom’s mouth went dry. This was the woman that he’d tried to keep out of his department?
‘It’s going to be quite a challenge and I can’t take time off …’ She looked at him earnestly.
He was the challenge she was talking about. And the determined look on her face told him exactly what she meant to do with that challenge.
‘I’m sure …’
What was he sure of? That he happened to know that Dr Thomas Riley, Acting Head of Paediatrics, would be more than happy to give her the next two days off? That he’d actually be more than happy to give her the whole of the next eight weeks off?
Before he could come to a decision on how to break the news, she stood up. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you. I really appreciate all you’ve done.’ She shot him a bright smile, thanked him and then she was gone.
Corrine Evans. Even her name seemed to have gained an allure now that he had met her. He’d expected that he would be able to largely ignore the new art therapist, sideline her by giving her a few things to do that couldn’t cause any trouble, and get on with his own job of running the department. In eight weeks’ time she’d be gone and out of his hair.
Something deep in the pit of his stomach told him that it wasn’t going to be that easy.
CORI WOKE FEELING as if she’d been run over by a steamroller in the night. Perhaps she’d feel better once she’d had a shower and got moving.
There wasn’t much choice in the matter. Her supervisor had told her that Dr Shah, Head of Paediatrics, had taken extended medical leave, and that the acting head had expressed concern about her being allowed to work in the unit. She wasn’t going to give him any excuses to dismiss her before she’d even had a chance to show what she could do. Not turning up on the first day would be like presenting him with her head on a plate.
She’d packed everything she’d thought she might need for the day in a large canvas bag, which sat in the hall. Taking the heaviest and least essential
