After a short tram journey Brent got off near the centre where he volunteered each week. Looking at the centre from across the road Brent thought as always how out of place the functional white building seemed among the old terrace houses that surrounded it. He crossed the road and pushed the heavy door of the building open, and walked in.

Inside the building were two corridors: one led to the back of the building, and a large room with a garden outside. The second corridor ran perpendicular to the first, along the inside wall of the front of the building. It was lined with doors for various offices and supply cupboards. It was into this corridor that Brent turned when he entered the building. He knocked on one of the doors: the director of the centre opened it and welcomed him into the office.

"Hi Brent" he said, "I'm really glad you could make it. Sandy called in sick and I've got a bunch of stuff to do today. Hilary's dealing with the clients."

"Okay" said Brent. "So what needs to be done?"

The centre's director, a man in his late 30s named Michael, smiled apologetically. "Nothing very interesting, I'm afraid. Funding's being threatened again. I'm in the middle of writing a grant application, but we need someone to write a press release too." He looked at Brent pleadingly.

"Yeah, no worries. Point me to it, I'll get started."

Michael grinned. "You're a champion, mate. Work on Sandy's computer, I don't think the door's locked."

Brent took a few steps down the corridor to another door, which opened on to a medium-sized room which had a few old computers in it and mountains of books and paperwork. Brent sat down at one of the computers and in a few moments started work on the press release.

It was slightly tedious work, but it was general consensus among the staff of the centre that Brent had the best language skills of anyone who worked there. He didn't know whether that was strictly true or not, but he was happy to do whatever was necessary to help out. Because after all, every little bit helped these days: the centre had been fighting for funding for what seemed like a long time now.

Brent so immersed himself in the task that he didn't even notice the time passing; then, suddenly, at 5:30 Michael came striding into the room, trying to appear calm but obviously concerned about something. "Bob hasn't checked in today" he said.

Brent looked at him. "At all? That's not like him."

"I know. Listen, can you hold the fort here? Hilary's checking 'round the hospitals and the police stations. I'm gonna drive around the streets a bit, see if I can spot him."

"Yeah, of course, of course" said Brent hastily. The clock above the door to the room ticked inexorably towards 6:00. It was obvious now that he wouldn't be out in time to meet Catherine but all of a sudden that wasn't so important to him.