Page 63 of Child's Play
‘And where shall we be sitting today, my dear?’ he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
During her last visit, he had explained that she chose to sit outside when she didn’t want to speak. She chose to sit in the living room if she wanted his help, and she chose the kitchen if she wanted his opinion as it was the closest of the three to the door ready for when she stormed out if his opinion didn’t agree with her own.
‘Living room,’ Kim advised. ‘And I’ll make the coffee while you two catch up.’
Ted nodded and guided Bryant into the lounge.
She put the kettle on and pulled down three mugs from the cupboard.
‘What a lovely room,’ Bryant said, as she spooned in the instant granules. ‘So this is where young Kim talked to the only person she could trust?’
‘Not really,’ Ted said, as she poured in the milk. ‘She talked very little anywhere in the house and yet still she continued to come. Every scheduled appointment she turned up and most of them for silence.’
Kim poured the water into the mugs. She remembered each and every session.
‘She never let me help her and yet she still continued to come. Not sure exactly what she got—’
‘Hey, Bryant, that’s my seat,’ Kim said, carrying the tray into the room.
Bryant moved from the single chair by the fire to the end of the sofa.
Ted looked at the drinks, shook his head and stood.
‘Too strong, as usual.’
He returned from the kitchen and poured extra milk into his mug and at her colleague’s agreement into his drink too.
‘Wimps,’ she muttered.
‘So, how may I help?’ Ted asked, folding his hands in his lap.
‘You know anyone by the name of Barry Nixon?’ she asked, figuring that the world of child counselling wasn’t endless and that the two men might have encountered each other.
He thought for a second, his brows furrowed. ‘The name is familiar.’
Kim got the impression he was working back through his memories. Although semi-retired now he was still called upon for the occasional tough nut to crack.
‘Yes, yes, I think I recall a fellow by that name. Worked for the department about twenty years ago. Not for very long if I remember correctly.’
Kim offered Bryant a triumphant smile. This man was like an oracle.
‘Hmm… case chaser he was, I remember him now. Tall, slim, fair hair, owlish features.’
Yep, that was their guy. ‘Case chaser?’ she asked.
‘Yes, there were a few of them but he was particularly ambitious. There were certain cases that came in that caused some hands to go in the air quicker than others. He chased the juiciest, nastiest, most high-profile cases that came through the department. We’re talking the most damaged, broken, angry kids the care system had to offer.’
Kids like you, she heard in the tone behind the words.
‘But why particular cases?’ Kim asked. ‘Surely helping any child that was suffering was enough.’
‘Thought he could mend anyone. But he wanted the high-profile cases for two reasons. He wanted to write papers, journals, books. He wanted to build his CV and gain a reputation as a field leader before going into private practice. There’s a lot of money to be made in the private sector but a lot of competition too.’
‘Go on,’ Kim urged, fascinated yet horrified that treating vulnerable children had been such a calculated ambition to the man.
‘A lot of counselling work involves listening, or not listening in your case,’ he added, with a smirk. ‘Different types of trauma require different types of approach: child abuse, neglect, PTSD, abandonment, all require a different toolkit but they all require one common denominator. Patience. You go at the speed of the child. That is—’
‘She’s right, Ted,’ Bryant said. ‘I do have a bit of a man crush on you.’
