Burn Patterns Read Online Free Page B

Patricia, pointing to the couch.
    Iris did, watching Patricia inventory her wounds and dirt.
    â€˜Is your head cut, Iris?’
    â€˜We were very lucky. Firstly they’d moved us all back, quite a long way. Also, there wasn’t much glass. Very few windows. The brick pieces which reached us were all quite small. They’ll need trauma counselling. The schoolkids, especially. I should have stayed at the hospital, I suppose. I could go back. I can talk to the relevant hospital staff.’ Iris tried to get up, but Patricia laid her hand on her shoulder, pushed her back down onto the couch.
    Patricia had strong arms, Iris supposed, from the kayaking. She favoured dresses with lots of colour in ethnic themes – African, South American, Australian Indigenous. Iris tried to focus on the Zulu shields rather than the orange.
    Patricia sat down at the other end of the couch. ‘So, the doctors have seen you?’
    â€˜Yes,’ lied Iris.
    â€˜Do you want time off?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Counselling. You need to talk about this.’
    â€˜Patricia. It’s nothing. I mean, compared to …’
    â€˜Which is exactly why you should talk about this one. To Frank?’
    â€˜Okay. Yes, good idea.’
    Patricia studied her.
    Iris smiled.
    Patricia patted her hand.
    Iris smiled a real smile. She could see Patricia trying to think of a way to chastise her for being a problem, without saying it.
    â€˜When you came to us, Iris,’ she finally began, ‘what was the plan? What was the journey we decided to embark on?’ Patricia was a practising clinical psychologist as well as the manager. Her areas of expertise were relationship counselling and life-potential actualisation.
    Iris didn’t want to play. Yet she tried. ‘I’m sorry, Patricia. I want to work in an area where I can make a difference to people. I want to treat people who are only mildly ill, who can be nudged to a better life. I don’t want to be part of the life-and-death stuff anymore. I really want to make this work.’
    Iris watched Patricia struggling to stay neutral, her lips tightening ever so slightly at the corners.
    â€˜I mean all people’s lives are, of course, life and death to them. I do value this opportunity. The sanctuary here, the chance to work …’ Iris stopped. She wouldn’t plead. ‘You saw what happened. They kind of nabbed me, Patricia. I was dragooned. Shanghaied, kidnapped. I tried to say no, but, you know, it was the police after all. You saw. Talk about flight or fight, I keep trying to flee these guys and they keep dragging me back in.’
    Patricia remained grim and focused.
    Iris said, ‘From their point of view, it was an emergency. Well, from any point of view, as it turned out. They still regard me as useful. Just to give them some quick profiles, but then things … escalated. As they do sometimes. I explained they can’t keep doing this. I explained I don’t do that kind of work, any number of times. I was leaving when things really went pear-shaped.’ The building did go pear-shaped, thought Iris. It took on the shape of a pear as it began its evaporation.
    â€˜Of course.’ Patricia squeezed Iris’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Iris. This isn’t about the practice. It’s your welfare. This is exactly why you wanted to move away from dangerous work.’
    â€˜Yes. Ditto.’
    â€˜Will you go home now?’
    Iris bowed.
    â€˜Will you not come in tomorrow?’
    â€˜I have a lot of work. I feel fine, Patricia. I mean, sure, a bit bent out of shape. No worse than a spill on the rapids, I imagine.’
    Patricia smiled.
    Iris thought she’d finally reached her.
    Patricia headed for the door, stopping to say, ‘I think it’s one of the ways we’re different, Iris, and I need to learn to understand. You see, I never go on the rapids. I have enough trouble paddling on the flat stuff.