7
The blind girl wasn’t at the pool again on Wednesday. That was three days in a row. During his lunchbreak, Wolfgang took her hat to Mrs Lonsdale’s office.
‘How do we return lost property to people?’ he asked.
Mrs Lonsdale looked up from the romance novel she was reading. ‘You can make an announcement over the PA, if you like.’
Wolfgang was terrified of the PA. He would start lisping for sure. ‘The owner isn’t here today.’
‘Then put it in the lost property box.’
He rotated the hat by its brim. ‘I thought maybe I could take it round to her place after I knock off.’
‘That’s up to you, I suppose.’
‘I don’t know her address.’
Mrs Lonsdale gave him a quizzical look.
‘She’s got a season pass,’ he explained.
‘Ahhh,’ Mrs Lonsdale said, eyebrows raised. She put her book down and swivelled her chair around facing her computer. ‘What’s the young lady’s name?’
Wolfgang blushed. ‘I don’t actually know her name. It’s that blind girl – you know, the one who comes with her seeing-eye dog every day?’
‘B-A-B-A-C-A-N,’ Mrs Lonsdale said, her fingers tapping the keyboard. She waited a moment, then read from the screen: ‘Audrey Babacan, 16 Ironbark Place. Would you like me to write that down?’
‘No, I can remember it,’ Wolfgang said. ‘Babacan. Isn’t that the name of the guy who does the furniture ads?’
‘That’s her father.’ Mrs Lonsdale shook her head. ‘Poor girl. As if being blind isn’t bad enough.’