Don't Stand So Close Read Online Free Page A

write.’ She kept her tone light, but there was no glimmer of a smile to acknowledge her banter.
    She needed to win him over somehow, to find a way to engage him. The shape of his personality – or the personalities of any of her clients – could not be truly known or understood without some level of cooperation. Simpson could, if he wished, say nothing and give nothing away. And then Stella would have to base her opinion on a negative space, on his desire to remain unknown. This would be of little help to either judge or child. Her biggest challenge was to find a way in, a way to earn his trust and to convince him that it was in his best interests to talk to her. She had to convince him that this was his opportunity to tell his side of the story.
    She decided to begin with the pen and pencil questionnaires. That way he would not have to answer probing questions straight away.
    She pushed a sheet of paper towards his side of the desk. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Let’s start with this one – the instructions are on the top.’ She pointed. ‘It’s straightforward, just true or false answers. But it takes quite a while to complete, about an hour. There are just over five hundred questions.’
    She could not help but feel a spark of satisfaction at the look of dismay on his face. It was her turn to score in their subtle battle of wills. Simpson would cooperate, he wouldcomplete the questionnaire – he had to if he wanted a chance to gain custody of his daughter, and they both knew it. He lifted the pencil, albeit grudgingly.
    He took a very long time over each question.
    ‘I can’t say true or false to this statement – it doesn’t apply to me,’ he said.
    ‘Just pick the one that is closest to the truth for you.’
    He delayed, frustrated, Stella guessed, at having to choose between two options that did not reflect his state of mind precisely. But after ten minutes, he seemed to be marking the answers more readily, and she could see he was progressing more quickly down the endless rows of statements.
    At one point he laughed, a bitter sound. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said. Nevertheless, he made his choice, colouring in a small, dark circle with the tip of his pencil.
    ‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’ she asked.
    She was not without empathy. She could imagine how the process could feel like a violation, particularly if he had been wrongly accused of being an abuser. And besides, she needed a coffee herself.
    ‘I’d appreciate that,’ he said. He seemed grateful for her small act of kindness and Stella sensed a minuscule thawing of the ice. He liked his coffee black, with one sugar, he said.
    Stella did not think he was the type to steal her purse while she was out of the room. She did, however, close her laptop and take her file of notes with her.

Hilltop, 4 p.m.
    ‘Why do you want to see my husband?’ Stella asked. Her whole body prickled with suspicion.
    ‘I just need to.’ Blue huddled under the blanket, digging herself deeper into the sofa, as though she were trying to put down roots.
    ‘How do you know my husband?’
    ‘I can’t tell you.’
    ‘You can tell me. You just won’t.’
    Stella sat on her sofa, annoyed and also helpless in the face of the girl’s stubbornness. She could not force her to tell the truth. She considered what to do. She could call Max and ask him if he knew her. But for some reason, she decided to wait before involving him. She sat still and did nothing for the time being, aware of the tension running from her neck all the way down her spine. She pushed her feet harder against the Chinese rug. She did not take her eyes off Blue, because she did not trust her.
    Now that she had let the girl inside, it might not be so easy to get her to leave.
    ‘My husband isn’t home,’ Stella said. She didn’t tell the girl that he was away for the night. She wondered if Blue hadcome alone – or if she had brought someone with her, someone who waited outside. Opening the