The Good Sister(49)



‘Fern?’

I turn, sagging in relief. Carmel has turned up at the eleventh hour.

‘Ah, Carmel. This gentleman is having some trouble with his email.’

‘Someone is here to see you,’ Carmel says, her eyes flicking to the entrance of the library. I glance over and see Wally standing there, carrying a large bunch of sunflowers.

My heart skips a beat.

‘Are you going to help with the email or not?’ the old man barks. ‘I don’t have all day!’

Wally lifts his hand in a wave. He is wearing a navy suit. It must be new. I’ve seen him in a charcoal-coloured suit before, which was also very nice, but not as tight in the trousers. His hair is also combed with a side part, which looks very dapper, very old-Hollywood.

‘Fern, you’ve overstayed your shift,’ Carmel says. ‘Why don’t you get going and I’ll help this gentleman with the computer?’

I look at the clock. ‘I haven’t overstayed my shift. I’m closing. And there’s twenty minutes until–’

‘Fern,’ she says firmly. ‘You. Have. Overstayed. Your. Shift.’

Carmel sounds most bizarre, like a kind of serial-killer robot. Her stare is also uncomfortably intense. My instinct is to ask if she’s all right, and also to correct her again as I most certainly haven’t overstayed my shift, but I have grave fears this may send her into some sort of episode. And so, I acquiesce.

‘Oh. Kay,’ I reply. ‘Thank. You. Carmel.’


Wally’s van is in the parking lot and once we reach it, he opens the passenger door for me, a gallant gesture which makes me feel rather good. I climb inside and place the sunflowers beside me on the bench seat. They are wrapped in brown paper with a small water-filled plastic bag tied around the stems to keep them hydrated, which is a rather innovative design. No-one has ever given me flowers before. To be honest, I’ve always felt they were a little indulgent, and I’ve always been fearful that the smell would be cloying. I am surprised to find that, on this occasion, I couldn’t be more pleased with them and, even in the restricted space of the van, the smell is reasonably inoffensive.

‘Thank you for the flowers,’ I say when Wally gets into the driver’s side of the van.

‘You’re welcome,’ Wally says, smiling at a spot over my shoulder. ‘Sunflowers haven’t got a strong scent. In fact, the florist said they were unscented, but I detected a faint odour.’

I conjure an image of Wally in the florist pointing at posies, sniffing each bunch and shaking his head until he declared the sunflowers the perfect bunch. It’s a happy image. It makes me smile.

‘Now, if you’ll allow it, I’d like to take you to dinner,’ he says.

Instantly, my florist fantasy dissipates, replaced by another, less appealing one. Wally and me in a crowded restaurant, shouting to be heard over the music. Pungent dishes and intoxicated diners. I open my mouth to explain to Wally that I can’t possibly go out for dinner, that restaurants are among the worst places for overstimulation, but he holds up a hand, silencing me.

‘Hear me out! A guy that I know runs a Greek restaurant in Windsor. They are hosting a private function tonight in their upstairs room, so the main dining room is closed. He’s agreed to open it, just for us.’

I frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We will be the only ones in the restaurant. We can choose the lighting, the music, the food – everything.’

Slowly, it starts to sink in, what Wally has done. Not just the flowers, but all of it. An entire evening – all coordinated to be perfect for me. It is an entirely unprecedented level of thoughtful.

‘Why are you crying?’ he asks.

I reach up and touch my face, which is indeed wet. ‘I . . . I’m just a little overwhelmed, I think. This is so lovely. A restaurant. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to go to a restaurant.’

In my peripheral vision, I see Wally smile softly.

‘What does one even wear to a restaurant?’ I ask. I gesture to my denim overalls. ‘Can I go like this?’

‘You could,’ he says. ‘But I brought you something that I thought you might like to wear instead . . .’ He reaches into the back seat and brings back a white plastic bag.

‘There’s more?’

I reach into the bag and retrieve a long halter-neck dress with diagonal stripes. Each stripe is a unique colour – not one is doubled up. It must include every single colour and shade on earth.

‘I saw this in a shop and it . . . it made me think of you,’ Wally says.

‘It is the most beautiful dress I have ever seen.’

I change in the back of the van. The dress fits, though the fabric is a little scratchy. It matches perfectly with the rainbows on my sneakers.

‘Beautiful,’ Wally says when I appear in the front seat. On a whim, I swish the skirt a little bit to show off, but I immediately feel silly and stop.

Wally drives to the restaurant, carefully adhering to the road signs and speed limits, which I appreciate. As we drive, I take a minute to reflect on the fact that I’m going on a proper date! To a restaurant! It is like a dream, except I’ve never had dreams like this. It’s like the books I’ve read, the happy ones, where things work out.

We pull up in front of the restaurant but before I can open the car door, Wally places a hand on my arm. ‘There’s one more thing.’ He leans over and opens the glove compartment. ‘These are noise cancelling and Bluetooth connected, so we can hear each other,’ he says, handing me a pair of giant headphones that look like earmuffs. ‘And these . . .’ He hands me a pair of swimming goggles in pink and purple and aqua and pulls out another pair of bright green goggles for himself. ‘I think are fairly self-explanatory.’ He pulls the green ones over his face. ‘What do you think?’

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