‘I should say she’s alright! That nice looking chap came in to see her,’ says Gloria over the way.

‘What nice chap?’ I ask.

‘The plumber. The only nice chap there’s been around here – with the exception of the porter, who normally works on a weekend, the consultant with a crush on you, and that lovely young cleaner who can’t speak a word of English but has a bum as tight as—’

‘Gloria!’ I interrupt. ‘Mr Barnes does not have a crush on me,’ I add quickly, prickling pink.

‘Whatever you say…’ Gloria raises her arms in innocence, totally in contrast with the obvious smutty thoughts she’s been entertaining whilst holed up in her bed.

‘I didn’t realise he’d been in,’ I say, hefting my bag to my other shoulder and stuffing my hands in my uniform pockets. ‘Nice though – that he came back, I mean. He said he was busy…’ Susan looks directly at me and I bet she can see that I know something. I’d bet the remainder of my life savings. All £4.66 of it. ‘Well, I’m glad that’s sorted then. Well done. Lovely. Okay.’ I move my bag again, neither side proving comfortable. I rub my neck, massaging a tightness that seems to have grown worse in the last few minutes.

‘I’d better go. I’ve got a night out. Bowling. Celebrating my—’ I stop myself. ‘Yes, well…’

Susan looks over at her book.

‘You want this?’ I ask, passing it to her. I haven’t seen the clipping since I brought it in. I resist the urge to open the book and find it. She takes it from me. ‘I’m not in tomorrow,’ I say. ‘See you Wednesday?’ I pause a second, waiting to see if she’ll open the book whilst I’m here. She doesn’t move. ‘I’m off then. Bye, Gloria. Behave.’

‘Not bloody likely. Our Maria brought me her laptop so I could download that series with Tom Hiddleston. The Night Manager? I see glamour and his bottom in my future. You fancy it, Susan?’

I shake my head in dismay and leave them to it.

Chapter Thirty-Three

KAT

The tram pulls up at Centertainment and a faceless announcer calls out our arrival, followed by the next destination. Most of my carriage gets off at the same time, spilling onto the side in a messy group that splits in different directions. I reluctantly move to get off; reluctant because I am knackered, emotionally wrung out, and really in need of a night on my own to gather my thoughts on life. Last week’s strength has slowly dissolved with the news of Rhys’s return visit and I’m not quite sure why. Perhaps because I didn’t know. Perhaps because I didn’t get to see him, and check he was okay. Perhaps because the meeting with Mental Health made it clear I had to monitor the situation closely. How can I monitor it if I don’t know what’s going on?

I get caught up in the crowd, falling in behind a young couple heading in the direction of the cinema. Her hand is forced into his back pocket, like teens in lust are wont to do. Experience reminds me it’s also the most uncomfortable and cumbersome way to walk. I remember those days. Then I remember they were a long time ago and I’m running too late to be wistful. I check my watch – ten minutes late, to be exact. Most of which I can blame on staring vacantly at my wardrobe in hope of inspiration for a bowling-but-would-prefer-to-stay-at-home kind of outfit.