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would hide them from him. ‘This is why you have your reservations about me doing clinical work in the unit, isn’t it? You don’t want me to start something when there’s no chance of any follow-up.’

      ‘Yeah. I just don’t think it’s fair to offer therapy to someone and have it stopped after only eight weeks. I’m sorry, Cori.’ He seemed suddenly very close. Close enough to put his arm around her, and if he did that she would make a fool of herself and start crying.

      ‘Don’t …’ She took a step backwards. ‘There’s no need to be sorry. You’re right.’ He was acting in his patients’ best interests and Cori couldn’t argue with that. But she couldn’t just accept it either.

      ‘Will you give me an hour? Please? Just one hour of your time.’

      He shot her a melting look that seemed to say he understood all her hopes, all her fears. ‘In all fairness I have to tell you that I can’t change my mind. You’re welcome to hold general groups and sessions on the unit, but I won’t offer you anything more.’

      ‘Maybe there’s something else I can do … Please. Just an hour.’ He hesitated, and Cori took her opportunity. ‘What harm can it do to listen?’

      He shook his head. Then he smiled, and suddenly she was looking at the Tom Riley who had such a special connection with the children under his care. The one who could make people feel that everything was all right with the world.

      ‘Okay. But you come alone. No fairies.’

      ‘Of course not. That would be an unfair advantage.’

      He nodded. ‘I don’t have much time next week. But I’m dropping in to the hospital tomorrow and I’ll be finished at about four. Will that suit you?’

      ‘Four o’clock is fine.’

      ‘Okay, I have your mobile number, I’ll call you then.’ He looked around at the fairies. ‘What are you going to do with these?’

      Cori shrugged. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any shortage of takers for them. I think I’ll stop here for another fifteen minutes and give them away.’

      ‘You don’t want to save them for another time?’

      She shook her head. ‘Nah. I can always make more, and I think these all deserve a home now.’

      ‘Having done what they were meant to do for tonight?’

      He’d come uncomfortably close to the truth, but Cori wasn’t about to admit it. ‘You think this was all for you?’

      ‘I’m not that self-centred. I think you want to be of benefit to the children, and to do that you need to catch my attention. And that you found a way to do that which also highlighted your own skills.’

      Was that a compliment or 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.

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