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She didn’t realise they’d lapsed into silence for the last half an hour until his voice, deep and smooth and as self-assured as ever, broke into her thoughts.
‘I saw one of your troubled teens the other day.’
‘At Silvertrees?’ She craned her neck to look at him, grateful for his efforts to find a more neutral topic for them to discuss.
‘A young lad, in for a consult,’ confirmed Max.
‘Do you know who it was?’
‘Vince Morrison. The sixteen-year-old with gynaecomastia.’
‘They’re finally allowing him to get surgery? That’s great—psychologically he really needs it.’
‘No, the parents came in to get more infor
mation but they left, deciding it was better to wait until he was older again.’
Evie gave a grunt of frustration.
‘That wasn’t the outcome you’d been hoping for?’ Max asked.
‘No.’ She rubbed one hand over her eyes. ‘Vince’s deteriorating behaviour in school and at home brought him to us at the centre a couple of years ago. He’s lucky, he has a loving family and kind parents, and they were trying to do their best for him. But, honestly, they were despairing as the gentle child they had known had begun to be replaced by a boy they could barely recognise.’
‘I imagine he didn’t understand what was happening to his body? Probably getting bullied in school.’
‘Yep. The boys had been taunting him with the name Moob Boy, taking photos on their mobiles in the changing rooms and texting them around the school. He started fighting and skipping classes. He’d been a keen swimmer—Schools International—and all that stopped. He wouldn’t go on beach holidays with his family, or to rugby camp. He was struggling mentally and physically.’
It felt like it had felt in the early days, before they’d slept together. The easy way they’d always been able to discuss cases.
‘The procedure to remove the abnormal breast tissue is fairly straightforward—why would there be a problem?’
‘I don’t know.’ Evie threw her hands up. ‘His parents thought it was a phase, that he might grow into his body, and that he should learn to live with it until he was eighteen. I felt the psychological damage might be too great by then, and that it was an unnecessary wait.’
‘I would have agreed with you,’ Max stated.
The simple admission warmed her insides. She could really use that compliment from him right now.
‘So do you know why they went for the consult if they weren’t going to go ahead with it?’ she asked, feeling less troubled for the first time since they’d left the house.
‘By all accounts, their son took the family car in the middle of the night and ended up crashing into a wall. They came to listen to what the paediatric surgeon had to say but didn’t like the idea of putting him through the surgery. I couldn’t understand why, but now you’ve explained their attitude beforehand, it makes sense.’
‘Who was the paediatric surgeon? Couldn’t they have talked the parents round? Explained things?’
‘Not enough knowledge of the boy’s mental-health history.’
‘Why not?’ Evie frowned. ‘Where were all my notes?’
‘It’s not your notes they needed. It’s the passion, the conviction. You’re what sells these cases, not a set of emotionless black and white notes.’
‘Well, what about my replacement?’
‘No one can replace you,’ Max said, then coughed as he realised the way it sounded.
She felt the flush tingling from her toes to her legs, into her torso and up. It might not have been what he meant, but it felt good to hear nonetheless.
‘Listen, how about I go to the centre and speak to the manager, see if I can’t get him to set up a meeting with the Morrisons?’ Max offered, his professional tone firmly in place. ‘Give them my professional opinion and go from there?’
‘That would mean a lot, especially to Vince. But why would you do that for me, Max?’
