Phaedra Patrick - The Library of Lost and Found

‘I called there again last night, after the reading group session,’ she said. ‘He found out the book title is Blue Skies and Stormy Seas , and that it was written by E. Y. Sanderson. That’s my nana’s full name. What’s really strange is that the stories are ones she told me when I was a child, and ones I made up to share with her. She must have written them down and printed them in the book.’ She shook her head, thinking how unlikely this sounded.

She waited for Suki to tell her she was being ridiculous, as Lilian might, but instead the young library assistant folded her arms. ‘Well, it sounds like you’re determined to find out more,’ she said.

Martha considered this for a moment. She thought about how Lilian always told her what to do, and how she obeyed without question. Just as she always did what her father wanted. Doing things for others no longer gave her the rush of satisfaction she looked for.

Instead she found herself wanting to explore the unusual feeling of freedom that she’d experienced in the arcade. She couldn’t remember the last time her nerves had jingled with anticipation, and she decided that she quite liked it. ‘Owen is going to try and find out the name of the printer and date of the book, to see if it ties in with the date of Zelda’s dedication. Of course, that’s highly unlikely—’

‘But what if it does?’

Martha flicked her hair. ‘It won’t do. I mean, it’s not possible. Zelda died three years before that date, so it can’t be right. Owen’s info will just clarify that.’

‘And then what, Miss Marple ?’

‘I prefer Lisbeth Salander .’ Martha shifted in her chair. ‘I suppose everything will go back to normal.’ Images flashed in her head of saying ‘no’ to the reading group, and the orange plastic crabs, and Owen and his red monogrammed slippers, and she wasn’t sure what normal was any longer.

‘And what if you find out otherwise?’

Martha shrugged.

‘Well, what would Lisbeth do?’

Martha mused upon this. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo wouldn’t sit on her backside and do nothing. She wouldn’t let Lilian dictate what she did. She wouldn’t offer to wash chandeliers or water potted plants. ‘She’d take matters into her own hands,’ she said. ‘She’d move things along.’

‘Sounds like a good idea.’

Martha nodded. She considered her next move. Although it was Tuesday and she knew Chamberlain’s wasn’t open, a call to say thank you for the ride home wasn’t unreasonable. And she could ask if there had been any advancement in Dexter’s research.

‘I’ll get dressed and have something to eat,’ she said. ‘Then I’ll make my move.’

Martha took a long hot bath, then made beans on toast and coffee. She moved a couple of boxes from her dining room floor and placed them against her wall.

She was pleased that she’d answered the door to Suki. It had been good to have another person in the house, other than Lilian.

After the cuckoo sang three times in the afternoon, she positioned herself in the wooden chair, straightened her skirt and picked up the phone.

When Owen didn’t pick up and she heard his answerphone message, she felt a plunge of disappointment; however, she didn’t hang up. She inhaled, closed her eyes and then spoke. ‘Hello, Mr Chamberlain. I wanted to thank you for your kindness last night, for driving me home. And I also wanted to…’

As she thought of what to say next, someone answered. ‘Hello,’ a voice said. ‘Who is this?’

Martha frowned, sure she’d dialled the number correctly. ‘It’s Martha Storm, from the library.’

‘Oh, sorry. I couldn’t get to the phone in time. Dad’s out. This is Greg.’

‘Greg?’

‘Owen’s son.’

Now he said this, it made sense to Martha. He spoke in a similar way to Owen, searching around for his words. His voice was a little deeper and slower.

‘Well, I’m sorry for disturbing you,’ she said, surprised at how disappointed she felt not reaching Owen. ‘Please tell your father I rang, and—’

‘Dad told me about you,’ Greg chipped in. ‘I’ve not seen him so animated for a long time. You’re phoning about the date and photo, right?’

Martha’s right eyebrow twitched upwards. ‘Um, I don’t know anything about those.’

‘Oh, right. Didn’t you get Dad’s email?’

‘I’m not in work today to access a computer.’ She ran a hand through her hair. ‘What’s the photo of?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s part of a newspaper clipping, I think. Dexter emailed Dad and he forwarded it on to you.’

Martha bit her lip, wondering how she could get to see it. The library closed on Tuesdays and she didn’t want to wait until the next day. Perhaps she could let herself into the building, without bumping into anyone who’d witnessed her embarrassing outburst.

‘Um, is that okay?’ Greg asked.

‘Yes. It’s fine,’ Martha said, her eyes flicking towards her pantry, where she kept a set of emergency keys. ‘I’m sure I can figure something out.’

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