Free Drawing with Light by Julia Green

computer I type in some symptoms, just to see what comes up. Tiredness. No energy. Lack of appetite . . .
    â€˜Hey!’ Cassy’s suddenly right there, looking over my shoulder at the computer screen. ‘Is something wrong?’
    â€˜Not with me ,’ I say pointedly, but Cassy doesn’t take the hint. I click off the NHS site. ‘I’m fine. Just killing time. Do you want a cup of tea with me? To celebrate me getting a job?’
    â€˜Yay! Well done, Em!’ Cassy hugs me. ‘At Polly’s shop?’
    â€˜At the market stall. It’s after school, and all day one Saturday and Sunday. Seven pounds an hour.’
    â€˜Fantastic!’
    â€˜So, tea?’
    Cassy pulls a sad face. ‘I can’t, Em. Sorry. I’ve been out – had my break already. I’ve got to work another hour. Rob’s picking me up at six fifteen. You can have a lift too, if you want to hang around till then.’
    She’s not going to tell me about the appointment, clearly. I study her face. She actually looks fine, now. Bright-eyed, happy even.
    â€˜I’ll pay for your tea,’ she says. ‘Go and get something to eat too. You’re looking much too skinny these days.’ She disappears into the back room they use as an office and staffroom, and then returns with a five-pound note. ‘There. Have a panini or something nutritious.’
    â€˜I’ll have a big slab of chocolate cake,’ I say, to wind her up.
    I’m about halfway through my hot chocolate and raisin and oat cookie when the click-clicking sound of a dog’s toes on the tiled floor makes me look up. Dogs aren’t really allowed upstairs in the shopping centre. Mattie is skulking along just outside Madison’s cafe, sniffing the air. She wags her tail when I call her name softly, but she keeps her tail low, as if she knows she shouldn’t be here and doesn’t want to draw attention to herself.
    â€˜Where’s Bob?’ I ask her.
    She pricks up her ears and comes close to the railings which separate the cafe from the corridor. She whines at me.
    There isn’t any sign of him. I wrap up the rest of my cookie and finish my drink and go out of the cafe into the corridor. Mattie comes up and sits down close to my feet, sort of nestling in. Something’s wrong. I’ve never seen her without Bob close by before.
    When I try to coax her back down the escalator she won’t come. She follows me to the top of the stairs next to the library but she won’t go down the stairs either, even when I tempt her with raisin and oat cookie. She licks her lips and looks sorrowfully at me, but she won’t budge.
    The next minute, everything erupts. An ambulance siren gets louder and louder; the plate-glass window at the front of the shopping centre fills with blue flashing light.
    Two ambulance men run up the stairs carrying a stretcher, push past me and Mattie, and go through the swing doors into the library. And just before the doors swing back behind them, I see this person lying on the floor on the carpet just inside the library foyer. I know those tatty brown cord trousers, the lace-up boots and second-hand postman’s coat.
    Oh , Mattie! I put my hand on her neck, to hold her back. She strains towards the door, as if she wants to get to him. I don’t know what to do. I try to push the door open again.
    â€˜No entry to the library at the moment,’ a security guard says. ‘You’ll have to come back later.’
    â€˜I need to see Cassy – she works in the library,’ I try to say, but he’s not having any of it. He won’t listen.
    â€˜Get out of the way. There’s been an incident.’
    I get a glimpse of the ambulance men doing something to Bob – a mask on his face – before the security man’s boot closes the door again.
    Now what?
    I still can’t make Mattie budge. I try phoning Cassy, but her mobile’s switched off.