herself wait longer than she needed to before she spoke – just to show herself that she could.
‘I think that’s the hour, Jonas.’
He looked round as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘OK. Thanks.’
He gave her a shy half-smile, and left without another glance at the sampler.
Kate released all her tension in one long, jolting breath. Her hands shook and she felt the corners of her mouth tremble downwards like a grazed toddler’s. She felt tears close to the surface and made a giant effort to get a grip.
Stupid. You’re being stupid. Stop it!
She cleared her throat and sat up straight. Something had triggered her fear response. More than likely it was something inside her – nothing to do with Jonas Holly at all. Maybe something to do with her grandmother, who had been a right old cow, if truth be told. Living in that gloomy house with the curtains always drawn. She’d been creeped out then; no wonder she was creeped out now. It was something she should be exploring with her own therapist, not something she should be blaming on a client.
She pressed a tissue to her eyes. She’d have to check her make-up before the next appointment.
Kate took a deep breath and felt everything inside her returning slowly to normal.
Jonas had shown his anger at last – albeit confined to a fist in his pocket – and had been fine by the end of the session. Calm. That was a kind of acceptance, wasn’t it?
The missing pieces of his grief jigsaw.
You’re scared of him
.
She ignored the voice in her head. It wasn’t logical or professional. What
was
logical and professional was to know when she had done all she could for a client and to allow him to move on. To get on with his life.
Kate Gulliver opened his file and ticked the box that cleared Jonas Holly to return to duty.
10
STEVEN LAMB WAS RIGHT about his brother. Their mother’s dire warnings about the deathtrap that was Springer Farm had made it a magnet – and Davey and his best friend Shane played up there among the ruins whenever they could. The farmhouse was black and filthy and open to the skies through a skeleton of charred oak beams, with the stone chimney sternum piercing them like a monument to the dead. The row of cottages across the courtyard had been so vandalized by local children (Davey and Shane prime among them) that anyone could walk in and set up home – the few remaining sticks of furniture were so decrepit that the estate of the deceased had failed to assign any value to them. There was even an old bed, complete with mattress, in one of the rooms – where small black handmarks on the ceiling bore testament to the fact that the springs still worked.
The boys loved to sift through the ashes of the main house, looking for treasures, while sniffing chunks of charcoal, or using them to draw crude graffiti on the cottage walls.
D + S CrEw
This propEty bElongs to Lamb and Collins. KEEP OUT
.
Mr PEach is a COCK
.
They did occasionally find what they considered to be treasures in the ruin of the house. Once a green marble egg, another time a fox’s mask, only slightly blackened down one side and mounted on a wooden shield. They’d wrestled over the mask and – from within a stiff headlock – Shane had decided he didn’t want it anyway. He’d got the egg.
Once, when they were seeing how far up the chimney they could climb before getting stuck, Shane’s foot dislodged an old biscuit tin that had been wedged there. Disappointingly, it contained nothing but a few dozen fuzzy and faded snapshots of boys and ponies. Davey said it was Shane’s turn to keep the treasure, but Shane resisted; he didn’t want to waste his turn on gay junk. So they just jammed the tin back where they’d found it.
Davey got furthest up the chimney – over twelve feet, according to the twine tied to his ankle, which was their judge and jury. He came down looking Victorian, and spent that night marvelling at the additional treasure of black snot that he
‘I think that’s the hour, Jonas.’
He looked round as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘OK. Thanks.’
He gave her a shy half-smile, and left without another glance at the sampler.
Kate released all her tension in one long, jolting breath. Her hands shook and she felt the corners of her mouth tremble downwards like a grazed toddler’s. She felt tears close to the surface and made a giant effort to get a grip.
Stupid. You’re being stupid. Stop it!
She cleared her throat and sat up straight. Something had triggered her fear response. More than likely it was something inside her – nothing to do with Jonas Holly at all. Maybe something to do with her grandmother, who had been a right old cow, if truth be told. Living in that gloomy house with the curtains always drawn. She’d been creeped out then; no wonder she was creeped out now. It was something she should be exploring with her own therapist, not something she should be blaming on a client.
She pressed a tissue to her eyes. She’d have to check her make-up before the next appointment.
Kate took a deep breath and felt everything inside her returning slowly to normal.
Jonas had shown his anger at last – albeit confined to a fist in his pocket – and had been fine by the end of the session. Calm. That was a kind of acceptance, wasn’t it?
The missing pieces of his grief jigsaw.
You’re scared of him
.
She ignored the voice in her head. It wasn’t logical or professional. What
was
logical and professional was to know when she had done all she could for a client and to allow him to move on. To get on with his life.
Kate Gulliver opened his file and ticked the box that cleared Jonas Holly to return to duty.
10
STEVEN LAMB WAS RIGHT about his brother. Their mother’s dire warnings about the deathtrap that was Springer Farm had made it a magnet – and Davey and his best friend Shane played up there among the ruins whenever they could. The farmhouse was black and filthy and open to the skies through a skeleton of charred oak beams, with the stone chimney sternum piercing them like a monument to the dead. The row of cottages across the courtyard had been so vandalized by local children (Davey and Shane prime among them) that anyone could walk in and set up home – the few remaining sticks of furniture were so decrepit that the estate of the deceased had failed to assign any value to them. There was even an old bed, complete with mattress, in one of the rooms – where small black handmarks on the ceiling bore testament to the fact that the springs still worked.
The boys loved to sift through the ashes of the main house, looking for treasures, while sniffing chunks of charcoal, or using them to draw crude graffiti on the cottage walls.
D + S CrEw
This propEty bElongs to Lamb and Collins. KEEP OUT
.
Mr PEach is a COCK
.
They did occasionally find what they considered to be treasures in the ruin of the house. Once a green marble egg, another time a fox’s mask, only slightly blackened down one side and mounted on a wooden shield. They’d wrestled over the mask and – from within a stiff headlock – Shane had decided he didn’t want it anyway. He’d got the egg.
Once, when they were seeing how far up the chimney they could climb before getting stuck, Shane’s foot dislodged an old biscuit tin that had been wedged there. Disappointingly, it contained nothing but a few dozen fuzzy and faded snapshots of boys and ponies. Davey said it was Shane’s turn to keep the treasure, but Shane resisted; he didn’t want to waste his turn on gay junk. So they just jammed the tin back where they’d found it.
Davey got furthest up the chimney – over twelve feet, according to the twine tied to his ankle, which was their judge and jury. He came down looking Victorian, and spent that night marvelling at the additional treasure of black snot that he
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