‘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.’
