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.
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
