Page 38 of The Good Sister

Do you mind if I cancel dinner tonight?

In a matter of seconds, my phone begins to ring.

‘Why are you cancelling?’ Rose demands the instant I answer.

‘Well . . . it’s just . . . Wally asked if I wanted to have dinner with him.’

‘Oh.’ Rose is silent for a few seconds. ‘It’s just that I’d already defrosted the chicken.’

‘Couldn’t we have it tomorrow?’

A sigh. ‘But I’ve been looking forward to it all day.’

Rose’s voice has a different sound to it, slightly juvenile and whiny. A gnawing sense of unease tugs at me. At the same time, the idea of cancelling on Wally, and having to explain this to him, is enough to make me dig my heels in. ‘I’m sorry, Rose. I need to cancel.’

This time the silence on the other end lasts so long, I wonder if Rose has hung up.

‘Rose?’

‘Have dinner with Wally,’ she says abruptly. Her voice sounds funny. I open my mouth to ask if everything is all right, but before I can, she has ended the call.

I forget about the Rose situation the moment Wally walks into my flat (fifteen minutes early) that night. I’m anxious about the fact that all I have in the fridge is sausages, yoghurt and puff pastry, but Wally quickly puts me at ease by ordering pizza, which we eat at my round table. It is most strange, seeing my second chair hosting a guest. Normally, it is simply a storage space for my unread books.

‘Rose googled you,’ I say, as we settle into the couch afterward. ‘She read an article that said you sold your app for a hundred million dollars.’

Wally cocks his head thoughtfully. ‘The article was accurate. That isn’t always the case.’

‘Wow,’ I say. ‘You live economically for someone with a hundred million dollars.’

He laughs. ‘I don’thavea hundred million dollars. I got my share of it. But I had a business partner and we had a number of investors who all got their cut. And a good chunk went to tax and our charitable organisation for underprivileged children . . . But you’re right, I do live frugally, considering my means.’

‘Why do you work at all?’

He appears to consider this. After a moment, he shrugs. ‘What else would I do? Sit around counting my gold? Besides, working is important to a person’s mental health.’

I agree wholeheartedly with this. I can’t think of anything more important to my mental health than my work at the library. ‘Howisyour mental health?’ I ask. ‘I mean . . . the last time you were working on an app, things didn’t go so well for you–’

‘This time it’s better,’ he says, smiling. His gaze is still over my shoulder, but closer these days, almost touching my face.

We remain like that for a moment, Wally smiling at me, then, Wally sits up straight. ‘Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve been meaning to ask you . . .’ He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a folded-up piece of paper, which he unfolds onto his lap. It appears to be for a private health fund.

‘What’s this?’ I ask.

‘Changing health insurance,’ he says, rolling his eyes. ‘I’ve had to do a mountain of paperwork. And it appears I need an emergency contact person in the country.’

He holds out the page to me, and I know what he’s going to say before he says it. It’s rare that this happens to me. Under the circumstances, I should feel pleased.

‘Would you consider . . . being my person?’ Wally asks, holding out a pen.

I clear my throat. ‘I would be delighted to be your person, Wally. Truly delighted. But I feel there’s something you should know first. Something important.’

Wally looks surprised. But he nods and sits back in his chair. ‘All right. What is it?’

I close my eyes, take a breath.

‘When I was a kid,’ I say, ‘I did something terrible.’

JOURNAL OF ROSE INGRID CASTLE