Phaedra Patrick - The Library of Lost and Found

‘You make everything so easy for people,’ Suki said, as the man walked away with the book and a six-feet tall piece of paper with a man-sized ferret outfit sketched on it.

‘Thank you.’

‘Too easy… Have you called Chamberlain’s yet?’

‘I’ve not had the chance.’

‘You’ve got time now. Think about yourself, for once.’

Martha felt a lump rise in her throat. It happened now and again, if anyone displayed unexpected thoughtfulness towards her. She tucked in her chin and swallowed the lump away, but she also felt a weird flutter in her stomach, as if she’d swallowed something that was still alive. A new bookshop and the opportunity to find out more about the old book were a real temptation. She wondered how Owen Chamberlain had traced her, and what he knew about the book and Zelda’s message. ‘Well, okay,’ she said.

She dialled the number for Chamberlain’s but didn’t get a reply, so she rang a further three times in a row. ‘I don’t know how Mr Chamberlain expects to make a living if he doesn’t pick up the phone,’ she said. ‘Did you know that eight out of ten businesses fail in their first year of trading?’

‘That’s a lot. Go over to Maltsborough to see him,’ Suki suggested. ‘I think the shop closes at one thirty today, and doesn’t open again until Wednesday. I’ve got things covered here.’

But Martha had duties to perform. The library didn’t close for another fifty-three minutes. She looked over at her niece and nephew, still studying their phones. ‘I can’t go. Someone might need me.’

As the morning ticked by, Martha carried over Skulduggery Pleasant , Divergent and Percy Jackson and placed the books on the table beside Will. He smiled but didn’t pick them up.

Martha found Little Women and Chocolat for her niece. Although Rose muttered, ‘Thanks,’ Martha could tell that the books would remain unread. She kept the two of them topped up with cups of tea.

She also tried to call Owen Chamberlain a further two times but the phone still rang out.

Siegfried Frost shuffled into the library and, as usual, didn’t say hello. The reclusive seventy-something always wore the same grey knitted hat, the same texture and colour as his wiry hair that sprang from under it. His beard obscured his lips so that, on the rare occasions he spoke, you couldn’t see them. His brown mac almost reached the ankles of his frayed, turned-up jeans. He’d moved into the old Sandshift lighthouse after the Pegasus accident.

His fingers crept towards the battered book and he picked it up.

Martha shot out her hand to stop him. ‘That’s not actually a library book.’

Above his grey whiskers, Siegfried’s eyes didn’t blink. He twisted his upper body, moving the book away from her. Flicking through it, he paused to peer at an illustration of a blackbird.

Upside down, Martha read the title of the story, ‘The Bird Girl’.

An image slipped into her head then vanished just as quickly, of her reading a story to her mum and nana. It was one she hadn’t thought of for a long time and her head felt a little floaty. She reached behind her for a chair, her hand hovering in the space above it.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghoul,’ Suki said.

Siegfried dropped the book back on the table and shuffled away.

Martha immediately picked it up again. The ground seemed wavy beneath her feet. ‘I think I know the story that Siegfried was looking at.’ She turned the pages and located it, her eyes scanning the words. She stared at its title. Gingerly, she lifted the book to her nose and inhaled, recognizing the smell as a hint of Youth Dew. ‘I have got to read this.’

‘Sure. I’ll make you a coffee.’

Martha sank into the chair and traced her finger down the words. She read the story twice, recognizing ‘The Bird Girl’ as one she made up many years ago.

She turned the pages and other words and titles began to leap out at her. Stories told by Zelda to Martha, created by Martha for Betty. Stories the three women had shared together.

What on earth are they doing here?

‘You look very pale.’ Suki returned and placed a steaming cup of coffee on the desk.

Martha nodded. She got to her feet and knocked her hip against the desktop. Coffee splashed onto the corner of Branda’s photocopying. She took a tissue and dabbed it, her fingers feeling strangely big and clumsy. ‘I know the library doesn’t close for twenty-three minutes, but I need to go,’ she said. She surveyed the room, making sure that everyone was able to cope without her.

‘You’re going home?’

‘No. To Chamberlain’s.’

‘Oh,’ Suki raised an eyebrow. ‘Good incision.’

‘It’s decision. And sorry, I won’t drink the coffee, though it does look very flavoursome. Apologies for the spillage.’ Martha reached down and picked up her bag. Her hands shook as she placed the book carefully inside it.

Stepping into the history section, she spoke as loudly as her small voice allowed. ‘Will and Rose, put your shoes back on. We’re going over to Maltsborough.’

CHAPTER FIVE

Bookshop

As they walked to the bus stop, Martha glanced over both shoulders to make sure that Clive wasn’t around to see her leaving work early. She asked Will and Rose if they’d prefer to go to the bookshop with her, or to meet their mother at the restaurant.

Will lowered his phone. ‘Chichetti’s does an amazing chocolate fudge cake. Can we go and get a slice?’

‘Mum sounded like she needed some time out,’ Rose said cautiously. ‘Like, without us.’

Will shrugged and returned to his game.

‘I’m sure your mum will be pleased to see us,’ Martha said, though she wasn’t convinced. ‘But I must get to that bookstore before it closes.’

‘What time’s that?’ Rose asked.

‘One thirty, I think.’

‘But it’s almost one o’clock now.’

When the bus rumbled up, five minutes later, they got on board. Will and Rose made their way to the back seat and positioned themselves as far away from each other as they could. Martha sat down between them. She touched the sparkly slide in her hair and held onto her bag.

Her upper body did a strange dance, as the bus turned and wound its way out of Sandshift and up onto Maltsborough Road. She raised her head to look down at the bay, where the sky was a shroud of mist hanging over the grey-blue sea. Siegfried’s lighthouse gleamed in the hazy February daylight, and Martha willed the bus to get a move on.

Maltsborough was Sandshift’s wealthier neighbour. It had a run of smart seafront bistros, a bank, a grand hotel with turrets, fish and chip shops galore, a museum and a state-of-the-art library that had a coffee shop, gift shop and large lights that looked like giant blue test tubes hanging from the ceiling. It attracted lots more funding than Sandshift and was where Clive sat in his office, hatching plans for budget cuts, synergy and synchronicity.

Chichetti’s was a new Italian restaurant on the high street with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the promenade. It was the kind of place where eating pasta and being seen were of equal importance to diners.

Martha, Will and Rose stood in a line, on the pavement outside, looking in.

Martha spotted her sister’s gold pumps near the window. She raised her hand to wave, but then paused with her hand mid-air. Lilian was leaned forward over the table with her face pointing down. Another woman, who Martha presumed must be Annie, had an arm wrapped around her shoulder.

Martha slowly lowered her hand but Will didn’t seem to notice there might be something going on. He rapped loudly on the window and gave a double thumbs-up to his mum.