42.

Good Morning. How may I help you?

I’m here to see Michael Pollard.

And you are?

Could you tell him that it’s Rachel Atler please.

I see. Was Mr Pollard expecting you Ms Atler?

No. I wanted to surprise him.

Yes, yes, well that certainly explains why he failed to mention you this morning while we were having breakfast together. You’re welcome to leave a note for him if you’d like, and I’ll make sure he gets it.

You mean he isn’t in?

I don’t think it would be professional of me to disclose something like that. I’m sure you can appreciate my position.

Well could you call up to his room for me please?

I’m sorry but we don’t have internal phones. This is a B&B not a hotel.

Then can you tell me his room number so I can knock on his door myself? I guarantee he’ll be happy to see me.

Andrew leaned forward and whispered. I’m sure he would, but just between you and me, Mr Pollard has already left for the day. He  said something about needing to do a little shopping before going to work.

Oh. I don’t suppose you know when he’ll be back do you?

As you’re such a good friend of Mr Pollard’s I’m sure you would not want me giving out his personal information to just anyone who walked in off the street. And in truth, I can’t be expected to keep track of my guests’ whereabouts.

I just thought you might know what type of hours he keeps.

Yes, yes, well look, all I am prepared to say is that he usually comes home quite late. Like I said, you are more than welcome to leave a message with your name and phone number on it and I’ll be happy to pass it along to Mr Pollard whenever I see him next. Which will probably be at breakfast tomorrow morning I’d say.

I don’t suppose I could leave my suitcase with you? asked Rachel as she wrote her note.

Unfortunately I couldn’t possibly take responsibility for something like that.

You can’t just put it inside Michael’s room for me?

Not without Mr Pollard’s permission. I’m awfully sorry.

Andrew watched the young woman dial on her mobile phone as she exited his B&B. She did not seem like the type of person that Michael would be friends with. Her heels were too high, and her hair was cut into one of those annoying fringes that made it look, to Andrew at least, like she was wearing a helmet. He found her voice too raspy, and the fact she wore so little makeup left him in no doubt as to her status as a feminist. Oh some might say she was attractive, though not him. Too tall for his taste, and the swing of her hips too provocative. He doubted she was Michael’s type either. Not that they had discussed such matters. Their breakfast conversations usually consisted of weather predictions and amusing stories about the people who had stayed in the B&B over the years. Andrew did not encourage Michael to talk about the work he did when he left each day, and certainly never suggested they swap anecdotes about their sexual escapades. There were other guests having breakfast in the same room, and Andrew preferred not to offend their sensibilities as they listened in on his conversations with Michael. Instead he wanted them to appreciate how close the bond between them had grown. No  longer businessman and customer, or even casual acquaintances, they were now genuine friends who could and would talk about anything. Andrew was proud of forming such a relationship at his age. The older he grew the harder it was to make new friends. Most people he knew in Hobart he had grown up with. And it was so difficult to meet the type of people he wanted to be friends with. People who knew how to talk. To listen. Oh yes, someone like Michael was to be cherished, and Andrew deliberated whether it might be best if he just dropped the message from…what was her name again?…Rachel, that’s it…maybe it would be best if he just threw her note into the garbage. That way Michael would not become distracted from his work by someone who was clearly unsuitable for him. It was a harsh decision, but real friends looked out for one another. Andrew dropped the piece of paper into the wastepaper basket, then felt a sudden pang of unprofessionalism. Fulfilling his duties as a friend was one thing, but betraying his role as a concierge was quite another. There was the reputation of his B&B to consider. Friendships don’t pay the bills. And what if Michael found out? What would he say? That woman was sure to blab about leaving him a message. Oh no, he would not fall for that old trick. He was far too clever. Andrew fished out the note and walked upstairs to slip it under Michael’s door. There. His friendship was safe, and so was his B&B. No need to worry. Everything was fine. Michael had already paid in advance for the next month, and there was a strict rule about not have guests to stay overnight. Andrew did not want his breakfast time with Michael intruded upon. Surprises like that were what he had worked all his life to avoid.