a younger child with a bulky dressing on her arm.
Cori had already seen them and was moving towards them. ‘Would they like to come and take a look?’ She spoke to the man first, and when he nodded she bent down to the little girl at his side. ‘If you want, you can take a fairy home.’
The answer to that was a clear and overwhelming yes. She led the little girl under the sparkling canopy, and her father followed, the child in his arms reaching up with her uninjured hand to touch the fairies. It was touching, heartwarming, and Tom wanted to be a part of the magic that Cori was able to create, more than he could say. Which was exactly why it would be much better if he went home. Now.
NOT SO FAST. Cori could see Tom out of the corner of her eye, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. She’d spent all of yesterday evening making fairies, and her lunchtime today attaching the little LED lights to the tips of their wands. He’d found his way here, and if he thought he was going anywhere before they talked this out, he was mistaken.
‘Dr Riley. We need some help here.’
She called over to him, indicating the child beside her. Tom turned, his eyes narrowing in an indication that he knew full well that she wasn’t playing fair, and she grinned at him in reply.
He moved across the grass towards her with all the affability of a tiger caught in a trap. He lifted the child up in his arms so she could reach the fairy that she wanted, never taking his gaze from Cori’s face.
‘Thank you.’ The little girl responded to a prompt from her father and thanked him, and Tom’s face broke into the kind of smile that Cori would have decorated the whole hospital with fairies for.
‘You’re very welcome.’ He bent down, watching as the child inspected the fairy. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Only I know it.’
Tom nodded gravely. ‘Right. Well don’t forget to take good care of her. She needs to have breakfast every morning.’
‘Porridge?’
‘Yep. I’m told that fairies are very partial to porridge. Particularly during the winter.’
The child nodded. ‘Can Hannah have one?’
Tom allowed himself to be drawn into choosing and obtaining a fairy for the child with the injured arm. Before he was finished, Cori had given away another four, as hospital staff and visitors stopped to look at the tree.
‘Dr Riley?’ A man in a suit and overcoat was marching across the grass towards them. Tom turned away from the children, and the corner of the man’s mouth twitched downwards.
‘Now we’re in for it …’ He murmured the words as he passed behind Cori, moving forward to meet the man. ‘Alan. Have you come to make a wish?’
It didn’t look as if the man believed in fairies. Cori noticed that a couple of the nurses who’d been lingering under the tree had melted away, leaving the sparkling branches to those who were obviously not employed at the hospital and therefore not subject to the disapproval of its administrators.
‘Just came to see what’s going on.’ Alan was looking round with an assessing gaze.
‘Make-a-wish Friday.’ Tom’s smile would have cracked an iceberg, but he was obviously improvising, and Cori stepped forward. If anyone was going to get into trouble for this, then it should be her.
‘It’s all my …’ She felt fingers close around the sleeve of her coat and Tom pulled her back a couple of steps.
‘These are all Cori’s creations. She’s attached to the unit temporarily and she’s been doing some stupendous work. We had some leftover fairies and I thought it was a shame for them to go to waste.’
‘You’re supervising this?’
‘Absolutely. Can’t have people wandering around hospital grounds making unsupervised wishes.’
Cori opened her mouth to speak and Tom turned to face her. For a moment his gaze met hers and she forgot what she was about to say.
‘I suppose …’ Alan looked around and gave a small shrug. ‘There is a procedure to go through for anything like this in the hospital grounds, though.’
‘Yes, I know. I apologise, but it was an off-the-cuff thing. Next time we’ll go through the right channels.’ Tom’s gaze swung around to Alan, and for a moment it was touch-and-go as to who was going to outstare who. Then Alan backed down.
‘No apologies needed, I’m sure. Good work … um …’
‘Cori Evans.’ Tom smiled beatifically in Cori’s direction.
‘Good work, Ms Evans. Thank you. You’re the new art therapist?’
‘Temporary art therapist.’ The years when she’d moved from one foster home to another, before finding a home with Ralph and Jean, had taught Cori that the ‘T’ word was one to be both respected and feared. Knowing the difference between something that might work out and something that was strictly temporary was vital to one’s own sense of self-worth.
‘Did I mention that the unit could really do with someone on a permanent basis?’ Tom broke in again.
‘Several times.’ Alan bestowed a hurried smile on Cori, and obviously decided it was time to retreat. Tom watched him go, his face impassive.
‘I’m sorry.’ She’d tried to get Tom’s attention, and had ended up getting into hot water. And, unlikely as it might seem, it had been Tom who’d come to her rescue.
He shrugged. ‘It’s okay. Alan’s all right, he just gets a bit scratchy when you don’t fill in the necessary forms. Next time you take anything out of the unit, let Maureen know. She’ll notify the right people.’
‘Yes. I’ll do that.’ There wasn’t going to be a next time. This had been all about getting Tom’s attention, finding out why he seemed so dead set against her working in the unit. And Cori had found out a great deal more than she’d wanted to know.
‘Look …’ He turned suddenly. In the darkness, his hair seemed every colour from blond to tawny. ‘I thought that you knew that the funding for the art therapy scheme had been cut. I don’t know who omitted to tell you that, but I intend to find out.’
‘It’s okay …’
‘It’s not okay.’ He frowned.
‘It will have been the scheme supervisor at the local health authority. She’s been under a lot of stress recently, so I suppose she must have forgotten, and she’s on holiday now so she hasn’t responded to any of my emails.’ Cori shrugged. ‘Please. Leave it. I don’t want to get her into trouble.’
‘In that case, I’ll deliver the reprimand to myself, for not making sure that you understood the situation.’
‘No. Please, don’t do that either. It won’t change anything.’ She could feel tears pricking at the sides of her eyes now, and hoped that the darkness 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