Page 5 of The Twilight Garden

‘So you see, I was only here this morning, but the magazine seems to have vanished. Would it have been taken away for any reason?’

The colleague blinked, adjusting her glasses. ‘Possibly.’ She turned to look over her shoulder. ‘Tina, has Yvonne been in to sort the magazines?’

Tina barely even looked up. ‘Not that I’ve seen.’

The colleague smiled. ‘Yvonne’s one of the admin team and it’s usually her who swaps them all around. People donate them, you see, so every now and again she refreshes what’s there.’

‘And could I speak to her?’

The colleague checked her watch. ‘She will have gone home now. She only works until two.’

Gemma nodded. ‘Oh, I see, and nobody else might know where the old ones would be if she had swapped them around?’

‘Um… I don’t.’ She looked around her as if surrounded by people who might come to her rescue. ‘Which magazine were you after?’

‘I’m not sure what it’s called. It was green – hills and trees on the cover. Sorry. It’s just that it had an advert I wanted to look at.’

‘If it was a recent one, you could check the shops.’

‘Right… yes, of course, I’ll do that. Thanks anyway.’ She hadn’t even checked the date on the cover – the ad could have been years old for all she knew.

Gemma began to back away; she was beginning to try everyone’s patience. She was loath to give up her search, but the magazine could provide a solution to her problems. It probably wouldn’t, but Gemma would never know if she didn’t find it, and the thought was there now. Like using the same lottery numbers week after week and then wondering if the one time you forgot to buy your ticket would be when your numbers came up. Tempting fate was too risky and Gemma felt bound to her task, even if there was only the slightest chance that something could come of it.

‘Is everything okay, Gemma?’ The voice came over her shoulder. Dr Evans was holding a bunch of notes, smiling benignly but clearly wondering what she was making a fuss about.

‘Yes, fine. I was just asking about a magazine I saw here this morning, but it’s disappeared. No problem though.’

‘Oh…?’ Dr Evans was still smiling in the irritating way she had, deploying it just before she left a lengthy pause which Gemma always had an overwhelming urge to fill.

‘If you made a special journey to come back for it, it must have been something important,’ she added after a moment during which Gemma kept resolutely silent.

‘Just an advert I wanted to follow up.’

Dr Evans nodded. ‘I see…’ She tipped her head to one side. ‘How did your meeting go today? Everything okay, was it?’

‘Fine, yes. Really good, thanks.’

The doctor’s eyes narrowed, the look she gave Gemma one she knew of old – the one which saw right inside her head and rummaged around for a bit. ‘I’ve got five minutes…’ She turned slightly, her gaze now angled towards her surgery door. ‘I can still give you a fit note if you like? No need to make another appointment.’

Gemma shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I’m good.’ She produced a smile from somewhere, nodding at the woman in the dispensary who was still following the conversation with interest. ‘Thanks for your help,’ she said, backing away. It was time to leave.

She’d almost made it through the door when another voice registered from behind. ‘Excuse me?’

Gemma turned back to see a much younger woman holding out something in her hand. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing,’ she said, ‘and this was shoved down the side of my chair. Is it what you were looking for?’ She held out a magazine, well-thumbed and bright green in colour.

Gemma took it with as grateful a smile as she could muster. She was well aware that most of the waiting room had also been listening and were now eager for the next development. ‘Thanks, that’s kind. I just wanted to check something.’

An elderly lady sitting by the door caught her eye. ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to take the magazines out of the surgery,’ she whispered. ‘But I don’t think people mind if you… tear a little piece out. I’ve done it myself, with recipes…’

Gemma checked herself. ‘Oh, of course, I’ll just…’ She flipped to the back pages of the magazine before pulling her phone from her pocket and opening the camera. She snapped a quick photo of the advert, no idea if it was even in focus, and handed the copy back to the young woman. ‘Thanks… all sorted.’

And for the second time that day, cheeks flaming, she left with as much dignity as she could muster.

3

‘What’s for dinner?’ asked Cat, putting down her mug on a stack of boxes beside her chair and looking to where Gemma was perched. It was the only other available seat in the room. The sofa had almost disappeared under a pile of belongings – some packed into bags, but most strewn across the cushions.

Gemma gave her a wan smile. ‘It’ll be whatever Gousto sent,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember.’