Chapter Nine
‘Who’s she?’ Owen stood in the centre of the room, tipping his nose at Lenore, seated in a chair beside the desk. In an olive floral kaftan and matching turban, she made quite the imposing sight, even with her reduced size.
‘This is Lenore Douglas, my old university supervisor and mentor. She’s visiting from the UK and asked if she could sit in on some of my sessions.
’ It had been an odd request, one that didn’t exactly gel with patient confidentiality, but in the spirit of granting a dying woman her wish, Hannah could hardly have denied her.
Luckily, Lenore had kept up her registration.
‘On the proviso that you don’t mind. She won’t be participating in the session, just observing. ’
Owen gave a quiet snort. ‘Making sure you don’t freak out again, you mean.’
Hannah’s fingers tightened around the edges of her notebook. If the snarky comment made an impression on Lenore, she didn’t let it show; her expression remained neutral.
‘Doesn’t make any difference to me.’ Owen shrugged and threw himself into his seat.
Having Lenore sitting in the corner of the room was like time travelling back to uni days, to the roleplay scenarios that had formed part of their assessments.
Just as she’d done then, Hannah took a quick breath and turned her chair slightly so she could at least try to avoid the feeling of being watched.
‘Thanks for coming in again, Owen. Let’s pick up where we left off.
’ She glanced down at her notes—not that she needed a reminder of their first session; it was carved into her memory like a poorly inked tattoo, bleeding all over her hippocampus.
‘After you left here last week you went to the hotel rather than meeting your brother as arranged.’
A customary shoulder lift. Eyes averted. ‘I had time to kill.’
‘You’re undergoing mandated counselling and you’re underage. Do you think drinking in a hotel is a wise decision?’
‘How did you even know I was there? Did Cole ring up and dob me in?’
Damn. She’d walked right into that trap. Could hardly confess to getting a lift into town with his brother when she’d cut their session short. Fast thinking required. ‘He … I saw him when I went to get a tree and he mentioned it. He’s concerned about your welfare.’
The upward curl of Owen’s lip suggested he didn’t give a toss about any of his brother’s concerns.
But how much of it was genuine and how much was bravado?
The kid had little consideration for rules of any kind—that type of rebelliousness had to have a root cause.
If she could get to the bottom of that, she might be able to find a chink in his armour.
‘How were things at home with your parents, before you went to live with Cole?’
‘Same as always.’
‘And how’s that?’
‘Boring.’
Okay, not exactly enlightening. As much as she wanted to turn towards Lenore and share an eye roll, she kept her attention focused on the belligerent teen. ‘What’s your routine when you get home from school—when you were going to school?’
Owen heaved out a sigh. ‘Helping around the farm, moving the cows, fixing fences, cutting down trees … all the usual shit.’
‘So you don’t like farm work?’
‘Not when I have to do it twenty-four-seven.’
‘Who says you have to do that?’
‘Dad. He’s always on at me to get off my arse and help around the place. Mum backs him up. It’s like living in a concentration camp.’
Nothing like a teenager for amping up the drama with some good old-fashioned exaggeration. ‘And you feel it’s unreasonable to be asked to do so many chores around the place?’
‘I don’t get time to do any of the things I want to do. Even on weekends, they have me working like a dog.’
‘What would you like to be doing instead?’
‘Riding my motorbike.’
‘You have a bike?’
‘An off-roader. I’ve been riding since I was a kid. Used to race until I had an accident and bunged up my knee. It’s fine now though. I could be doing it again but the olds won’t let me.’
Ah, now they were getting somewhere. ‘Perhaps they’re worried you’re going to hurt yourself again.’
‘S’pose.’
‘Have you tried talking to them about it? Explained how important it is to you?’
‘No point. Dad just starts yelling and Mum backs him up every time. They said when I turn eighteen and I’m officially an adult I can do what I like but until then they’re not going to let me put myself in so much danger.’
‘Do you think it’s dangerous?’
‘Can be. But my accident wasn’t even my fault. And it wasn’t that bad. Only that my bike was trashed.’
‘So you don’t have one to ride now?’
A sorry shake of his head. ‘They said I could work around the farm and save up for one for when I’m older, but that’s bullshit. Dad never even pays me for all the shit I do. It’s slave labour.’
‘Do you miss riding?’
A glassy look came over Owen’s eyes. He shuffled down deeper in his seat and jammed his hands further into the pockets of his hoodie. ‘A bit.’
Based on his body language, it was more like a lot. The boy was storing up so much anger and resentment she could almost see it seeping out his pores. Definitely something to explore in more detail.
‘Tell me about school? What don’t you like about it?’ Truancy had been a huge part of Owen getting into trouble, giving him a lot of free time to spend hanging out with a few older mates, and others like him who’d decided education was a waste of time.
‘Too many people telling me what to do.’
‘Like teachers, you mean?’
A nod. ‘And the principal. A total dickhead.’
Having met Principal Morrissey a few times now, Owen’s assessment of him wasn’t far off the mark. ‘But he and the staff are just doing their jobs, right?’
‘Doesn’t mean they can yell at you and order you around all the time.’
‘So that’s why you want to leave?’
‘Mainly. Plus, it’s boring.’
‘You don’t feel the need to get your HSC? Maybe go to university?’
‘I don’t need to do either to be a bike mechanic.’
‘That’s what you want to do?’
‘I would if I could. If Cole hadn’t butted in and said he’d take me on as an apprentice and got my mum and dad all excited. They want me to work on the farm but it’s not my thing. Neither is being a farrier. But no one cares what I think. They want to run my whole life.’
So here was the crux of the problem: Owen felt disempowered, as if he had zero control over his destiny.
The family’s attitude was understandable given he’d injured himself, but getting him to see that might not be so easy.
And instilling some sense of respect for authority into a kid who was this oppositional was no easy task.
Engaging him in conversation about his passion could be the way to make him more pliable.
The next series of questions was all about his bike riding, racing, accomplishments and what he loved about the sport.
By the end, he seemed slightly more amicable, if the marginally less confrontational tone and the hands resting loosely in his lap were anything to go by. A bulldog, rather than a Rottweiler.
A phone alarm chimed and Owen pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘Forty minutes.’ He almost grinned. ‘Time’s up.’
It wasn’t unusual for clients to watch the clock, but she’d never had one set an alarm before. Still, a better outcome than last week. For both of them. Even as she was thanking him for his time, Owen was out the door and closing it with a bang.
‘Well, that was interesting.’
Hannah’s hand flew to her chest. How could she have forgotten she had company?
A soft chuckle floated across the room. ‘Sorry for startling you. Good that you were so focused, though.’ Pushing herself to her feet, Lenore hinged herself upright with a quiet groan and made her way across the room.
Her face was pale but her eyes bright. ‘You did brilliantly! Not that I would expect anything less. You really had him talking there towards the end. Great idea to home in on his passion and get his focus off the negativity.’ Her brow furrowed.
‘What was that he mentioned about you freaking out last week?’
An icy chill sluiced through Hannah’s chest as if Lenore had tossed a bucket of water over her.
So far she’d succeeded in keeping her unprofessional behaviour between herself and Owen, but Lenore was a hard person to hoodwink.
Probably because she was so good at her job.
But perhaps the truth could be watered down.
Leaning against the desk, she hugged her notebook as if it was a teddy bear and forced herself to meet her friend’s gaze. ‘You read Owen’s notes.’
Lenore gave a small nod.
‘I was tentative, but I took the case on because I need the work. And because I thought I could handle it.’
‘And did you?’
‘Not terribly well. When we started talking about stealing the car and his drinking and drug taking, I had these instant flashbacks. Completely lost the plot.’
‘Which he noticed.’ Lenore was playing psychologist, throwing out tidbits of commentary without passing judgement.
‘I feigned a migraine and we cut the session short.’ A rush of heat flooded her face. ‘It’s the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever done.’
Lenore moved to stand in front of her, placing a cool palm against her cheek.
Hannah leaned into it, the gentleness at once comforting and too much to bear.
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. We’re all human and sometimes containing our own emotions is impossible.
But you rectified that today, turned things around and made good progress.
I don’t think the young man will be reporting you to the board anytime soon. ’
Hannah swallowed. ‘Thank you.’
Lenore’s hand dropped and her expression darkened. ‘But—’
‘I knew there was one coming.’
‘If there are things still troubling you that are affecting your work, it might be time to address them.’
That would not be happening. It was one thing to allow a crack in the memory vault, another thing entirely to willingly fling the lid open and dive into the contents.
She stood, straightened her jacket and took Lenore’s arm. ‘It’s all under control. But I wouldn’t mind talking strategies for my next session with Owen over a coffee.’
Ignoring the quirk of Lenore’s lips and the slight raise of her brows, Hannah led the way back into the house where they’d left Nancy baking gingerbread.
The spicy scent of it filled every room, drowning out any lingering reservations about her competency.
There was a good chance Lenore wouldn’t let it rest but the door had been closed on the conversation. For now.
As they passed the lounge room, something different twinkled in her peripheral vision.
The tree, unadorned the last time she’d seen it, was now festooned with sparkling pale pink baubles, draped in glittering silver tinsel.
Nancy stood on a small step ladder, reaching to the topmost branch, where she placed the bejewelled star.
Lenore clapped her hands. ‘Well, look at you, getting all Martha Stewart. Very pretty.’
Nancy climbed down and looked directly at Hannah.
The two of them had never openly discussed the past but based on the discussion they’d had about making this Christmas special, it was clear Nancy knew at least some of the story.
Knew why the decorations had remained untouched in the bags on the floor.
‘It looks beautiful.’ Hannah mumbled the words through the cotton-wool dryness of her mouth. ‘Thank you.’
Nancy’s shoulders dropped a fraction, as if she’d been holding her breath and could finally let it go. ‘My pleasure.’
Another item ticked off the list. One step closer to the worst day of the year.