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‘Interesting that you have such a dry sense of humour. You use it to defuse your anxiety.’
She wasn’t sure what galled her more: the fact that he could read her so easily, or the fact that she was like this in front of him. Usually she was too closed-off for strangers even to begin to understand her humour. And all this while he hadn’t released her, hadn’t slowed as they danced around the floor.
‘Shall we just forget this conversation,’ she asked cheerfully, ‘and get on with the night?’
‘Why? Am I getting too close for your liking?’
Yes. ‘No.’
‘I think I am,’ he said softly.
She made herself raise her eyebrows at him, as though she was merely amused. As though her heart wasn’t lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. ‘You think altogether too much.’
‘And you deflect.’
‘Tak...’
Without warning he spun them around, and all she could do was hold on, following his lead the way he’d instructed her to do, praying she didn’t trip over her own feet and slowly realising that she was holding her own. Under Tak’s unspoken guidance.
The last vestiges of her reticence seemed to melt away. And Tak gauged just the right moment to speak.
‘Nell is acting out because she’s a thirteen-year-old girl and that’s what they do—to a greater or lesser degree. You’ve just moved home, area, left her friends, and she’s feeling like she has no control. The shoplifting was probably a result of peer pressure and bad influence, and she went along with it—even though you’ve taught her better—because she’s trying to exert some kind of dominance but doesn’t quite know how. I suspect you already know all of this, because you’re clearly a good mother who cares about your daughter.’
‘How do you know?’
‘The way you’ve talked about her. The fact that I deal with people day in and day out. I have to operate on them, on their brains—often when they’re awake. It pays to be able to read people so you can try to alleviate their deepest fears.’
A myriad of thoughts raced through her head, every one of them too fast for her to catch hold of. ‘Yes, I suppose that would pay.’
He ignored her, though not unkindly. ‘I also suspect you know that what your daughter needs is for you to try talking to her rather than simply punishing her.’
‘She can’t just get away with it,’ Effie objected, refusing to acknowledge that she’d thought pretty much the same thing.
‘I didn’t say that. Obviously you’re going to want to show her that there are consequences—I can see that’s who you are, and I don’t disagree. I’m just saying don’t second-guess your instinct to talk to her rather than at her. Trust yourself. You’re not being a weak mum.’
It was as if he could see right into her thoughts. ‘And these consequences?’
He fixed her with an unwavering look. ‘That’s down to you. You might want to take her back to the shop and face up to them. Pay for the goods.’
‘I thought of that, but then I worried that they might prosecute her.’
‘It’s a possibility, but in my experience they won’t. First-time offence...and a teenager taking one lipstick? Most likely the staff will appreciate that she’s taking responsibility for her mistake and accept her apology and the fact that she’s willing to pay for the item.’
It sounded like the ideal solution. However, fear still gnawed at Effie. ‘But you can’t guarantee that?’
‘No, I can’t.’
She chewed her lip. ‘It might be scary but it’s the adult thing to do...’
‘And she knows that, or else she wouldn’t have told you,’ Tak offered. ‘She came to you because she isn’t happy about it. She wants your help and she needs your understanding.’
‘I know that.’
Yet hearing it from him somehow helped her to believe it. He made her feel stronger. This night was turning out to be so very different from anything she might have expected. Tak was so very different.
It was a very dangerous realisation indeed.
* * *
