‘Do you need a hand?’ the technician asked, looking at the desk which was completely clear.

Tony shook his head. ‘I was covering for Peter at the time. This is his room, right?’

‘Next door,’ the technician said, heading across to the fume cupboard.

‘Thanks,’ Tony said, moving back to the door into the prep room.

‘Mary must have borrowed your book,’ the technician offered as he unloaded the beakers of solution into the unit.

‘What?’

‘If you left it in Peter’s room, but found it in here; Mary must have borrowed the book to read.’

Tony nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he offered in half-hearted agreement.

‘I’d not have taken her for a reader,’ the man added.

Tony managed a second murmur of amusement, then headed into the prep room and straight across into Peter’s room. He made straight for the desk and slid open the drawer. Empty.

Swearing silently, and aware that the technician might come back into the room at any moment, he quickly opened the doors of the cupboards behind the desk.

The speaker in the corner crackled into life. ‘Mr Canning, contact Reception, please,’ a voice lilted through the static.

Tony felt himself flustered. He pulled open the next door and finally, found a small cardboard box in which rested about a dozen thermometers. He lifted three of them and stuffed them clinking into his inside pocket.

Just as he closed the cupboard door, he heard Peter’s voice.

‘That place is getting worse. The curry looks revolting!’ He’d clearly brought his lunch back up to eat in the prep room.

Tony wondered, momentarily, whether to brazen his way back out through the prep room, but to do so would involve having to use his excuse with Peter, and something about the man suggested he would remember whether or not Tony had been covering his class over the previous week or two.

Instead, he cut across the room, clutching his jacket tight against his breast to stop the glass thermometers from clattering together or, worse, breaking in his pocket.

He reached the handle, turning the knob slowly until he heard the dead bolt click back from its place. Turning the handle, he backed out of the room, keeping an eye for either Peter or the technician, closing the door softly behind him.

He turned and swore a second time when he saw Alice staring at him. She was seated on a window bench, which had been built into the alcove opposite Peter’s door.

‘Hi, sir,’ Alice smiled.

Tony felt his heart thud in his chest, imagined he could head the mild clink of the glass rods striking against each other with the vibration.

‘What are you doing here?’ Tony said, more crossly than he had intended. ‘You’re not meant to be up here during lunch time.’

The girl’s eyes filled instantly. ‘I forgot my lunch money, sir,’ she said, her lip quivering.

Tony instantly regretted the tone he had taken. At that, perhaps hearing the raised voice, the prep room door opened and Peter glanced out. Evidently, seeing Tony standing out there, and knowing that he had been on corridor duty earlier, he felt no suspicion.