inspected more of the surroundings, holding her bag tightly in her lap as if someone was likely to steal it.
A woman approached them wearing a blue suit and white blouse, and in her hand she carried a large brown envelope. It was the doctor they had been sent to see. He looked into her face as she smiled at him. She knew his name and talked as if she knew all about him. They followed her down the long corridor until they came to an open door, where she paused and showed them in with an outstretched arm. She offered him a seat and presented him with a set of comics to read while she took his mother into an inner office. If he sat still and silent, he could hear snatches of their voices through the frosted glass. After a few minutes they came out, smiling in unison at him.
âWell, Samuel, I think itâs time for you and I to get to know each other. What do you say?â
He looked at his mother and she nodded her agreement, but he stayed in his seat and held onto the unopened comics.
âEverythingâs all right, Samuel. Dr Rollins wants to help. Sheâs helped lots of people your age. Go and talk to her,â his mother said.
Still holding onto the comics he rose and followed the doctor into the inner office. As she closed the door, he glimpsed his mother standing, clutching her bag.
There were plants in the room and coloured posters of animals. The doctor sat down on a chair which was angled towards his, close enough for him to smell her scent, and when he glanced up at her from time to time, he could see a light shadow of perspiration on her upper lip.
âHow do you like living in the city, Samuel?â
His hands rolled up the comics tightly.
âI suppose itâs a big change from living on a farm. Iâm sure itâll take a while to get used to it.â
He pulled his feet back under the chair. Behind her squatted a green metal filing cabinet, watching and listening.
âIâve often thought it must be really interesting to live on a farm. Hard work Iâm sure, too, of course.â
She paused and smiled at him. Little beads of perspiration had formed on her upper lip. A breeze from the partly-opened window rustled some leaves on a plant sitting on the window ledge. A mobile of metal birds hanging from the ceiling turned slowly.
âYour mother tells me that you donât talk very much any more, Samuel. Your mother tells me too that youâve been having bad dreams.â
Framed certificates on the wall stared down at him, their seals dark pupils encased in glass. His hands clutched the sides of the chair until his knuckles whitened.
âWould you tell me about your dreams?â
The birds turned more quickly, their metal wingsglinting coldly in the light. He felt her trying to take him where he could not go. He started to run down the long tunnel of himself, pulling each door tightly closed behind him, and although thick strands of web tried to fasten to him as he ran, he brushed them aside with frantic hands.
âItâs all right, Samuel. If you donât want to tell me, itâs okay.â
He glanced quickly back at her to see how close she had come in her pursuit. Her green eyes smiled at him like a set trap.
âSometimes using words is very hard and very painful. I understand that, so right now if you donât want to speak, itâs all right.â
She stood up and went to a shelf behind her desk. Her black hair was fastened with a bronze-coloured clasp. She took down a sheet of white paper and a tub of felt-tipped pens, then cleared a space on her desk and laid the paper down.
âI know it might sound childish, but what Iâd like you to do is draw something for me. Iâd like you to draw one of your dreams. You can draw it any way you want and use any of the colours. Iâm going to leave you here so you can give it a go without me looking over your shoulder. Bring your chair right up to the desk while I have a chat with
A woman approached them wearing a blue suit and white blouse, and in her hand she carried a large brown envelope. It was the doctor they had been sent to see. He looked into her face as she smiled at him. She knew his name and talked as if she knew all about him. They followed her down the long corridor until they came to an open door, where she paused and showed them in with an outstretched arm. She offered him a seat and presented him with a set of comics to read while she took his mother into an inner office. If he sat still and silent, he could hear snatches of their voices through the frosted glass. After a few minutes they came out, smiling in unison at him.
âWell, Samuel, I think itâs time for you and I to get to know each other. What do you say?â
He looked at his mother and she nodded her agreement, but he stayed in his seat and held onto the unopened comics.
âEverythingâs all right, Samuel. Dr Rollins wants to help. Sheâs helped lots of people your age. Go and talk to her,â his mother said.
Still holding onto the comics he rose and followed the doctor into the inner office. As she closed the door, he glimpsed his mother standing, clutching her bag.
There were plants in the room and coloured posters of animals. The doctor sat down on a chair which was angled towards his, close enough for him to smell her scent, and when he glanced up at her from time to time, he could see a light shadow of perspiration on her upper lip.
âHow do you like living in the city, Samuel?â
His hands rolled up the comics tightly.
âI suppose itâs a big change from living on a farm. Iâm sure itâll take a while to get used to it.â
He pulled his feet back under the chair. Behind her squatted a green metal filing cabinet, watching and listening.
âIâve often thought it must be really interesting to live on a farm. Hard work Iâm sure, too, of course.â
She paused and smiled at him. Little beads of perspiration had formed on her upper lip. A breeze from the partly-opened window rustled some leaves on a plant sitting on the window ledge. A mobile of metal birds hanging from the ceiling turned slowly.
âYour mother tells me that you donât talk very much any more, Samuel. Your mother tells me too that youâve been having bad dreams.â
Framed certificates on the wall stared down at him, their seals dark pupils encased in glass. His hands clutched the sides of the chair until his knuckles whitened.
âWould you tell me about your dreams?â
The birds turned more quickly, their metal wingsglinting coldly in the light. He felt her trying to take him where he could not go. He started to run down the long tunnel of himself, pulling each door tightly closed behind him, and although thick strands of web tried to fasten to him as he ran, he brushed them aside with frantic hands.
âItâs all right, Samuel. If you donât want to tell me, itâs okay.â
He glanced quickly back at her to see how close she had come in her pursuit. Her green eyes smiled at him like a set trap.
âSometimes using words is very hard and very painful. I understand that, so right now if you donât want to speak, itâs all right.â
She stood up and went to a shelf behind her desk. Her black hair was fastened with a bronze-coloured clasp. She took down a sheet of white paper and a tub of felt-tipped pens, then cleared a space on her desk and laid the paper down.
âI know it might sound childish, but what Iâd like you to do is draw something for me. Iâd like you to draw one of your dreams. You can draw it any way you want and use any of the colours. Iâm going to leave you here so you can give it a go without me looking over your shoulder. Bring your chair right up to the desk while I have a chat with
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