‘How many in total will he talk to?’
‘Five. My parents, his twin, me and his best friend from kindy, who is now at school with him.’
‘He makes eye contact with me. Does he do that with other people too?’
Rosie nodded. ‘For the most part, once he’s familiar with someone. But he just won’t, or literally can’t, talk to people. He freezes.’
‘Eye contact is a start but it’s not very encouraging if he’s not making any other progress.’ Nick paused briefly. ‘Do you think these frequent bouts of tonsillitis are genuine? Remember, he’s seen his GP, not me, for some of them. You think he’s happy enough about going to school?’ His head was cocked to one side, waiting for her input.
‘I’ve only been caring for the twins for two months but he’s had two episodes of tonsillitis in that time, three since last December, and, in my opinion, they’ve all been the real deal.’
‘Do you think the death of his parents has contributed at all?’
‘Do I think there’s a psychological aspect to it? Like his selective mutism?’
Nick nodded.
‘There could be, it’s hard to know for sure, although his psychologist thinks he’s coping pretty well.’ Rosie found by pretending she was talking to Charlie’s GP, not Nick, she could talk almost naturally. ‘But that’s another reason I don’t want his routine to change too much. I’m worried his mutism might get worse if he’s regularly away from school because of tonsillitis.’
‘So the tonsillectomy would mean a few more days off school but you think he’d benefit in the long run.’ Again, he’d neatly summarised her thoughts.
‘Yes. His psychologist agrees too, obviously on the basis that you consider it necessary.’
‘Looking at his tonsils today I think it’s reasonable to take them out, both from a medical and social point of view.’
Charlie reappeared, sucking with concentration, a fresh supply of tongue depressors in his right hand and his left hand holding his bulging pants pocket shut.
‘Fantastic. Thanks, Charlie.’ Nick took the handful from Charlie, pointedly ignoring his overflowing pocket. ‘Have a seat, there’s something I need to discuss with you.’ Rosie swallowed a laugh as Charlie slid awkwardly into his seat, clearly not wanting to risk a single lolly spilling out. ‘Your tonsils are pretty inflamed, all red and swollen. Your throat must be pretty sore and I’m guessing it’s pretty hard to talk to Rosie, even without a lolly in your mouth. Is that right?’
Charlie nodded and quickly popped another lolly, red-and-green striped, into his mouth.
‘They’re my favourite, you know. You’ve got good taste,’ Nick added, nodding at Charlie’s mouth before continuing as if he hadn’t changed the subject. Charlie’s eyes grew wide at the comment and he looked pleased with Nick’s attention. Rosie crossed her fingers and hoped that Nick’s rapport with Charlie would get her nephew thinking differently about the operation. ‘If I take your tonsils out, it’ll be sore for a few days, but not much worse than you feel when you have tonsillitis. You might still get a cold now and again but you won’t get the same sore throats any more. Does that sound like a good idea?’
Charlie looked at Rosie and she knew what he was thinking.
‘He won’t have to eat jelly, will he? I had to eat jelly when I had my tonsils out and Charlie doesn’t like it.’
‘Well, when Rosie was little, back in the olden days…’ Nick winked at Charlie ‘…the nurses were very strict and everyone had to eat jelly, but now, if I tell the nurses no jelly, that’s all there is to it.’
Rosie could well imagine. She didn’t think there’d be too many complaints no matter what Nick asked the nursing staff.
‘Do we have a deal?’
Charlie glanced at Rosie then back to Nick, looking at him for a few seconds before nodding solemnly. Nick kept a solemn face, too, holding out a hand, and Charlie took it, shaking on their deal, all the while sucking on the lolly determinedly. Charlie was nothing if not determined. In everything he did, including not talking. It made it all the more amazing that Nick had managed to convince Charlie to have the surgery.
‘I’ll look at my operating schedule and work out when I can fit Charlie in. I’ll ring you and let you know what we can arrange. But whenever it is, there will definitely be no jelly coming anywhere near you, young man, doctor’s orders.’
Charlie beamed at Nick and didn’t pull away when Nick placed a hand on his shoulder as he walked them out. They were in the hallway when Charlie turned and ran back into Nick’s office, leaving Rosie staring blankly after her nephew, his behaviour out of character. ‘Maybe he forgot something?’ They didn’t have time to wonder, though, as Charlie was already tearing back to them, a secret smile dancing around the corners of his mouth.
It was much the same way Rosie felt, too, as she waved goodbye to Nick in the waiting room. Because, whatever else happened, she was at least guaranteed to speak to Nick again soon.
Nick stopped by the receptionist desk to see who his next patient was, suppressing mild irritation when he was told they hadn’t shown up, with no phone call of explanation.
‘It’ll give you a chance to look at these.’ She handed over a thick yellow envelope marked ‘Confidential’.
Nick cocked an eyebrow, asking, ‘The revised partnership agreement?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll hold your calls for half an hour so you can go through it.’ She picked up another bundle of papers and slid it into his hands on top of the first envelope. ‘And if you get time, these referrals and reports need to be done. Sooner. Not later.’
‘You’re a slave-driver, you’re meant to protect me from the world, not be the one who attacks me,’ muttered Nick, but it was good-natured and even managed to bring out a glimmer of a smile to soften his receptionist’s serious features. He tucked the pile of papers under his arm and headed back to his office, free to contemplate the fact that a missed appointment wasn’t what was irritating him, and the partnership papers weren’t what was uppermost in his mind. It was the fact that he could’ve kept talking with Rosie and Charlie if his next appointment hadn’t been looming.
Charlie was intriguing and he was determined to get him to talk at some stage. And his aunt? She fell into the intriguing category, too, a category that had been dismally empty for some considerable time now. Together, they made an interesting pair.
Once at his desk, he slapped the pile of papers down, resolved to comb through the final agreement he’d been impatient to receive. Then his eyes caught a bright colour and his papers lay forgotten.
A boiled lolly, red-and-green striped, shiny and hard, lay where it had been placed carefully in the centre of his notepad. He picked it up, inspected it momentarily and then lifted the pad on which someone had written, ‘They’re my favourite, too.’
‘Bingo,’ muttered Nick as he popped the lolly into his mouth. ‘He’s talking to me.’
Rosie had long since tucked Charlie and Lucy into bed and they were
