“No,” I say. “I don’t like bowling.”

Now Carmel is red in the face. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But it is a compulsory event for all staff.”

“It is?”

“Yes, it is.” Carmel seems surer of herself now, nodding with each syllable. Yes. It. Is.

“Then why have a sign-up sheet at all?”

“Well, because…” Carmel drifts off, less certain now.

I wait.

* * *

At lunchtime, I am in the staff room, tapping away at my computer, when Gayle appears at my desk. She has what looks like a bit of spinach caught in her teeth and unusually wide—excited—eyes. I’m relieved it’s not Carmel. I’ve made a mental note to avoid Carmel until this bowling function is over or until her conversation skills improve, whichever comes first.

“There’s someone here to see you,” Gayle says, once I have pointed out the spinach.

I frown. The only time anyone comes to see me at work is on my birthday, when Rose comes to take me out to lunch at the sandwich place I like. That is always planned in advance, of course, because I don’t like surprises. But today is not my birthday and I don’t have anything planned.

“Who is it?”

“It’s the man from the other day. The one who was having trouble with the printer.” Gayle lowers her voice to say this and waggles her eyebrows up and down. It makes her look quite bizarre.

“Where is he?” I say, getting up.

“Just outside the door,” she whispers excitedly.

Sure enough, when I come to the staff room door, Wally is standing there. Alfie is by his side, on the lead.

“Hello,” I say, then frown at Gayle, who is still standing there. She shuffles away sadly.

When I look back at Wally, the first thing I notice is that he’s not wearing that atrocious hat! He looks different without it. He has quite lovely hair—thick and black and swept, with the slightest curl to it. I study it admiringly before noticing the rest of his clothes are different too. Instead of the jeans and shirt, he’s wearing a business suit … with a tie! There’s something else different about him too … something to do with his face. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“I’m so sorry to do this, Fern,” he says, “but something has come up and I won’t be able to watch Alfie for a couple of hours. I could have left him at your place, but I knew you’d worry so I brought him here. It’s a … an interview of sorts. It just came up and I … I…”

For someone who is usually so eloquent, Wally seems to be struggling to string a sentence together. It’s almost as if he’s nervous. I look him up and down again—the suit, the tie. Suddenly I realize what is different about his face. “You shaved!”

He rubs his face and smiles at the floor. “I did.”

“For the meeting?”

“Yes. It’s with a former colleague of mine. We worked together a few years back and there’s a chance we could do something together again.”

He holds out Alfie’s lead and I’m grabbing hold of it when I hear Carmel’s cart rolling toward me.

“Fern! There you are!”

“Who’s that?” Wally asks.

I gauge the distance between Carmel and me and deduce that it’s too late to make a run for it. “My manager. She wants me to go tenpin bowling. I have a company-sponsored bowling night on Wednesday.”

“Really?” Wally says. “Funny, because I’m an excellent tenpin bowler.”

“Would you like to be my guest?”

“Sure,” Wally says. “Why not?”

Carmel rolls to a stop in front of us, staring at Alfie.

“Put me down for two for the bowling, Carmel,” I say.

Carmel glances up from Alfie. “Pardon?”

“Two. For the bowling. Me and Wally.”

“Rocco,” Wally corrects, shooting me a frown. He extends his hand to Carmel. “Rocco Ryan.”

I think Carmel is going to protest, but instead she takes his hand. “Rocco Ryan?” She stares at Wally for a moment, then shakes her head. “I, er, fine. I’ll put you both down. But Fern, the dog has got to go.”

I pretend not to hear her. “Good luck with the meeting,” I say to Wally.

Carmel and I both watch Wally walk away. He looks nice in his suit. I get the feeling, from Carmel’s odd behavior, that she has noticed too.

“I’ll look forward to bowling,” I call after him on a whim, realizing, despite the multitude of reasons I shouldn’t, that it’s true.

* * *

I have a secret at the library that no one knows about, not even Gayle. I found out about it several years ago, while Janet was still the manager. I’d been at the front desk that day, because Linda and Gayle had both been off work with a hacking cough that had done the rounds of the library staff (which I’d escaped due to my disinclination to shake hands). A council meeting had taken place in the circular meeting room that afternoon and, afterward, tea and cakes had been served. I hated it when tea and cakes were served to the council workers, because it meant dozens of fat, balding, middle-aged men were hanging around, nursing cups of tea and pieces of cake, and taking up lots of space, physical and emotional, the way fat, balding, middle-aged men did. Their small talk hummed around the building, bouncing off walls and making me feel squidgy. Lots of questions like, ’Scuse me, love, where’s the bathroom? and You couldn’t clear this plate away, could you, darl?

I’d give them blank stares and scurry away, but wherever I went, there were more fat old men with more questions. Worse, this time, one of them had located the little bell at the front desk that I had hidden in a drawer, and was it pinging every few seconds.

Ping.

“’Scuse me.”

Ping.

“Is anyone here?”

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

It was hard to describe what that particular kind of noise—trapped noise—did to me. It filled my brain like a scream, until tears itched at my eyes and my heart threatened to burst from my chest. I’d been hiding among the travel books at the back of the building when Janet, my old boss, found me.

“Bad place to hide,” she whispered. “These guys all fancy themselves as world travelers—they’ll be back here soon, looking for books about Egypt so they can point out all the places they went on their last vacation.”