The Good Sister(21)

‘Fern, I’m glad I ran into you,’ Carmel says, even though she was not running and nor had we made physical contact. She is wearing a bold yellow dress that suits neither her skin tone nor her personality.

‘I notice you haven’t put your name down for the staff bowling day.’

She pauses expectantly, as if waiting for an answer, even though no matter how many times I replay her comment, I can’t find the question. Once, years ago, Rose told me that conversations were simply a series of questions. One person asked a question, the other person answered, and it went back and forth like this until the questions ran out. This explanation has assisted me through countless episodes of small talk. But lately, it feels like more and more people are opting for statement-to-statement types of conversation. Which generally leaves me at a loss. I am still searching for an appropriate response when Carmel continues.

‘Cat got your tongue?’

The expression isn’t as ridiculous as it sounds. I googled it several years back and established there were two possible origins: one, referencing a whip used by the Royal Navy called the cat-o’-nine-tails (apparently the pain this whip inflicted was so severe that it caused the victim to stay quiet for a long time); two, derived from ancient Egypt, where liars’ and blasphemers’ tongues were cut out and fed to the cats.

‘I am able to speak,’ I confirm. ‘And you are correct that I haven’t put my name on the list for the bowling day.’

Carmel’s eyes narrow. Her eyelashes are short and sparse and could do with a coat or two of that volumising mascara that Rose wears. ‘Fern, these team-building events are important. Getting the team together in a social environment helps make for better communication in the workplace.’ Almost as an afterthought, she adds, ‘It’s a company-sponsored event, so you don’t have to pay.’

Again, no question has been posed. I look around and let out a long sigh – attempting to send out a non-verbal message that I am tiring of the conversation and she should speed it up.

‘Fern, are you planning to put your name down?’ Carmel says snippily, which frankly is a little annoying as I’m the one who is being put through this pitiful attempt at conversation. But at least she’s finally asked an actual question.

‘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 staffroom, 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 staffroom 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 realise 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.