The Library

by Bella Osborne

  ‘If you’re looking for romance books…’ I was already shaking my overheating head. ‘Say, for someone else…’ Why didn’t I think of that? ‘We’ve a Mills and Boon stand.’ She pointed to a carousel nearby. ‘And all other romance, like historical and contemporary, is filed in with general fiction but I could suggest some authors if you like?’ She was keen – this was beyond bad.

  What do I do? I opened my mouth and did an excellent goldfish impression. The librarian leaned a little closer with a conspiratorial look in her eyes. ‘Did your mum send you to get her a book?’

  I nodded like a car’s nodding dog racing over speed bumps. ‘Yeah, my mum, she’s…’ Think of something plausible. Dead is not a good reason to need a library book. ‘At work.’ My eyes pinged wide with the revelation that I had given a good answer. I repeated my lie for good measure. ‘She’s at work.’ At last the sweating reduced.

  The librarian looked rather proud of herself. She rolled her eyes. ‘What are mums like, eh?’ I shrugged as I joined her in collusion. This was great. ‘What’s her name? I’ll pull up her records just so I can see what sort of thing she usually takes out.’

  Argh! This couldn’t be happening. The sweating returned like a tsunami. Think of something. She was giving me an odd look. I’d left it too long for what should have been quite an easy question for a sixteen-year-old to answer. THINK. I glanced around for inspiration. There was a sign on the wall about borrowing e-books. ‘Kindle!’ I almost shouted making the woman jolt away from me slightly. I swallowed and tried to compose my lie. ‘She usually reads e-books but her Kindle died.’

  The librarian smiled again. I wasn’t smiling. I could probably have wrung my T-shirt out. ‘Ah, I see. Have you got a library card?’

  ‘No, I had one as a kid but I don’t know where it is.’

  ‘No problem. Are you over sixteen?’ I nodded. ‘You’ll need an adult card now anyway. I can either input your details to our library management system or you can use the computer over there and join online.’

  ‘I’ll do it myself, thanks.’

  ‘Lovely. While you sign up would you like me to get your mum a selection of novels?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ No! I don’t need romance novels. Thankfully I’d got my bag with me or I’d be leaving with armfuls of chick lit. How did I even get in this mess? Oh, yeah, it was my loser’s approach to meeting girls. So much for that venture. Not quite the genius plan I had hoped.

  I slunk over to the computer and followed the instructions, which were taped to the table. As I clicked the last button a pile of eight books appeared next to me. Eight! ‘Thanks. Err, Mum will be pleased.’ The librarian looked chuffed and I wanted to dissolve in a puddle, which could well have been possible given how much I was sweating. I wiped my palms on my jeans before I touched the books and quickly committed them to my bag and zipped it up. The librarian hadn’t taken her eyes off me. Why was she still staring?

  ‘Was there anything else I could help you with? We have a Young Adults book section.’ I said nothing – I’d not be able to get any more books in my bag. ‘Or you can book internet time on our computers.’

  It was clear I couldn’t just sit there and wait for girls to appear and I’d run out of convincing lies. It was rubbish because I was quite liking being back in the library. ‘I’m all set, thanks.’ I patted my bag and stood up.

  ‘She can keep them for three weeks and you can renew online if she needs them for longer. Okay?’

  No, I had rarely been less okay. ‘Yep, great.’ I grabbed my coat, put my head down and at last escaped into the blissful cool air outside. I scanned the green for anyone I knew. All clear. I pulled my heavy rucksack onto my shoulder and headed home with my embarrassing haul.

  2

  MAGGIE

  Maggie hadn’t enjoyed this week’s book club read. She was getting sick of psychological thrillers that told you you’d never see the big twist coming when invariably she could spot it like a pink striped cow in a field of sheep. She also found some of the stories played on her mind, which wasn’t good for a seventy-two-year-old living on her own. Not that living alone bothered her; it didn’t. She’d been on her own for almost ten years. Maggie liked her own company and her own space but she forced herself to make the trip into the village every week. Without it she would likely not see or speak to anyone unless the postman had something she needed to sign for, in which case those interactions usually consisted of him moaning excessively about the number of potholes on her drive and the permanent damage they had likely done to his coccyx.

  The book club discussion came to a natural conclusion and the group started to disperse. Maggie took the copy of The Pickwick Papers, which was the next read. They liked to do a classic every so often, which was good because unlike most of the group Maggie wasn’t widely read and there were many times she felt she should have got around to reading more but once upon a time hers had been a full life – overflowing. Only recently had she found she had to hunt down things to do rather than it coming to her freely.

  ‘Did you see that boy?’ Betty asked her while pulling on her coat. Her eyebrows heavy with questions.

  Maggie had noticed him. ‘He seemed a bit flustered.’ Anyone male and under sixty was a rare sight in the library, or the village come to that.

  ‘Do you think he was casing the joint?’ asked Betty, leaning in closely.

  Maggie hooted a laugh. ‘The joint? It’s a library, Betty. There’s very little here worth stealing. Nobody’s ever late returning their books so there’s not even any pennies in the tin.’

  ‘Still,’ said Betty, straightening out her hunched spine before returning it to its curved position. ‘You read about these things. Drugs, muggings, murders!’ She seemed to surprise herself with the last suggestion and hastily buttoned up her coat.

  ‘He looked more scared of us, if you ask me. Terrified, in fact. I doubt he’ll be back.’

  Betty appeared relieved. ‘Well, that’s good then. See you next week,’ she added in a cheery tone and left to meet her husband who would be parked dutifully outside in his freshly polished Škoda.

  Maggie had spotted the boy as soon as he walked in. She’d recognised the look of terror most creatures displayed when placed in an unnatural environment. He had seemed less fish out of water and more alien on wrong planet. She’d seen similar expressions when she’d transported her sheep. But this one didn’t have the safety of the herd. He’d come alone and that intrigued her.

  Maggie decided to catch up on world events via the newspapers while she was there. February was chilly and the longer she stayed the later she would need to light a fire back at home.

  Maggie liked it at the library; she always had. Books provided a secret door to escape through – something she had often been grateful for in her life. She’d been grateful of the library too. Many a time she’d needed somewhere safe and quiet to run to and the library had never let her down. These days she came for slightly different reasons. It was warm and most of the book group attendees were friendly people. She liked to be around people. Even if they weren’t the most exciting bunch they still had something to say, as did she, but Maggie had found she increasingly had no one to say it to. She chatted to the other lingerers until they too ebbed away and she settled herself down with the selection of newspapers and some magazines. She went to the headlines first to catch up on what was happening in the world. She’d save the gossipy magazine stuff until after the news had depressed her; it usually served to cheer her up.

  After a while she’d become so engrossed in the latest scandals she’d almost forgotten where she was. She read about an actor getting locked out of a hotel room with only a sock to cover his manhood and she hooted a laugh.

  ‘Are you okay, Maggie?’ asked Christine the librarian, straightening an already perfectly neat pile of books.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Maggie quickly closed the magazine.

  ‘Nice to see youngsters using the library. That teenage lad signed up ea
rlier. I’ll be able to report back to the council that my poster campaign has been a success.’ Christine pointed to the noticeboard where a sad picture of a teddy bear informed kids that reading was fun.

  ‘I thought I heard him say the books were for his mother?’

  Christine bristled. ‘Technically, yes. But getting kids in here is the first hurdle.’

  Maggie wasn’t going to argue. It was pointless. ‘Let’s hope we didn’t scare him off.’ She saw the time and began packing up. She had a while before her bus but Christine didn’t like people lingering when it was nearing closing time. Maggie said goodbye and made her way outside.

  It was dark and raining. Maggie zipped up her floral mac, slung her bag onto one shoulder and stepped out. The village was quiet now. It had been quite busy first thing when she’d arrived. Well, not exactly busy but there had been a few people milling around, which for Compton Mallow was positively teeming. She strode down the little cut-through between two cottages with her head down against the rain. Her thoughts were on what to cook for tea. She had some leftover cottage pie but she didn’t fancy that. Maybe she’d have cheese on toast. She liked cheese on toast. The only downside was that it was quick and what Maggie needed was things that filled up her time.

  She heard footsteps up ahead and glanced in that direction. A hunched figure was coming her way. They looked up and she recognised him as the young man who’d visited the library earlier. She smiled as they skirted to the sides to make enough room to pass each other comfortably. The boy gave her a fleeting glance before returning his concentration to the ground. Maggie wondered what he’d come back for.

  Another person was following him a little distance behind. They were of a similar size and build with their head bent and covered by a black hood but they didn’t move to the side as he had done, instead bumping her arm and dislodging her bag from her shoulder. Before she could right it her handbag was being tugged away. She reacted immediately by dropping her weight to the ground. She wasn’t going to get pulled over. The bag snatcher was wrong-footed by the deadweight of the woman attached to the bag.

  ‘Hey!’ She hollered hanging on tight to the strap and finding herself being propelled along by the hooded figure. Anger coursed through her. She loved that bag and she wasn’t going to lose it.

  ‘Let go!’ shouted the hooded figure playing tug of war with her.

  ‘Piss off!’ yelled Maggie. She was losing her hold. Her fingers didn’t grip like they used to. She was in a bad position. She couldn’t do anything from down here. She heard someone running towards them. Maybe an accomplice? On his next tug she went with the bag and let him haul her to her feet, surprising him and giving her a second to lash out.

  ‘Ow. Shit!’ yelled the second person, taking the brunt of Maggie’s punch. As she only had one hand on the bag the snatcher whipped it free and fled. Their pounding steps echoing down the alley back the way they had come.

  Maggie turned on the second person, her fists held aloft. She was prepared to fight this time.

  The other person quickly held up their hands in defeat. ‘I was trying to help,’ he said, his voice distorted.

  Maggie peered closer. It was the boy from the library. And he had blood pouring from his nose. ‘I thought you were with him.’ She pointed up the alleyway but the bag snatcher was long gone.

  ‘No, I heard you sw… shout so I came back.’

  ‘Here,’ she said, pulling a wad of tissues from her pocket. ‘You’re hurt.’

  ‘Yeah, someone thumped me,’ he said, rolling his eyes.

  Maggie grimaced. ‘Sorry about that. Tilt your head forward.’

  He did as he was told and she reached up and pinched his nose. ‘Ow. That hurts.’

  ‘Don’t be a baby. It’ll stop the bleeding. Come on, let’s have a look in the light.’ She guided him back to the library.

  Christine was tidying a stack of newspapers and putting the one with the headline about library closures to the bottom. ‘Christine, have you got a first aid box in there?’ called Maggie, steering the youth in her general direction.

  ‘Oh my goodness. Whatever’s happened?’

  ‘She pun—’

  ‘I had my bag snatched and he came to my rescue but took a punch in the process,’ said Maggie, giving the lad a wink, which seemed to alarm him.

  ‘Oh, Maggie, are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. He took the worst of it.’

  ‘What a hero you are,’ said Christine, ushering the boy inside. ‘Sit there. I’ll get the first aid kit. Please try not to bleed on the carpet.’ Christine disappeared into a small back room.

  Maggie and the youth exchanged looks.

  ‘I’m Maggie,’ she said. ‘And I am very sorry about punching you.’ She held out a hand for him to shake. He hesitated before shaking it.

  ‘Tom. I’m not going to report you for assault. If that’s what you’re worried about.’

  That actually hadn’t crossed her mind. What a litigious society they lived in. ‘I was thinking more that you’d be embarrassed about getting whacked by a pensioner.’

  Tom seemed to consider this. ‘Fair point.’

  ‘I won’t tell anyone. I promise.’

  ‘Thanks. I think,’ he said, returning his neck to a more normal position.

  Christine returned in a flurry of gauze pads and bandages. ‘Has it stopped bleeding?’ She asked scanning the carpet.

  ‘Yeah. He’s all right. Aren’t you?’ asked Maggie.

  Tom took the wad of blood-soaked tissues from his nose and baulked at the sight. ‘I guess.’

  ‘We should call the police,’ said Christine, her hand already on the telephone.

  ‘No, it’s fine. There was nothing of value in my bag. I’ve lost my bus pass, my glasses, oh and the buggery book club book for next week. Sorry.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Christine, although her face said something quite different. ‘Anything else?’

  Maggie had a think. ‘A new pack of chewing gum and a purse with about forty pence in it.’

  ‘What about credit cards?’ asked Christine, lifting the telephone receiver a fraction.

  ‘Don’t have any.’ Maggie took a sterile wipe from the first aid box and like a mum washing a reluctant toddler’s face she started to clean away the blood around Tom’s nose. He snatched the wipe from her and gingerly dabbed at his face.

  Christine hovered by the phone looking disappointed. ‘But he’s hurt.’

  ‘He’s fine,’ said Maggie.

  ‘I’m fine apparently,’ said Tom, marvelling at the blood-soaked tissues.

  ‘What about you, Maggie?’ asked Christine, her voice hopeful.

  Maggie paused for a moment to scan her body and make an assessment. ‘I’ve bruised my bum and my clothes are soaked but no injuries.’

  ‘Oh.’ Christine was further deflated. She checked her watch. ‘If we’re not getting the police involved then I should be getting home. Alf will worry where I am.’

  ‘Yes, I need to get going too,’ said Maggie, realising she’d be walking home now she didn’t have her bus pass.

  ‘Okay then,’ said Christine, merrily putting everything back in the first aid box.

  ‘Could I have another copy of the book club read?’ asked Maggie.

  Christine’s smile was a little forced as she found a copy, handed it over and hurried them out the door. ‘See you next week, Maggie. Hope to see you again soon too.’ She waved at Tom and he recoiled.

  Tom and Maggie were left standing outside the library. They watched Christine get in her oversized mini and drive off.

  ‘Alf’s her cat,’ said Maggie. Tom beamed a grin. It was the first time he’d smiled and it changed his features a great deal, revealing another version of him hiding inside like it had been waiting for a safe moment to venture out. Maggie smiled too. ‘Well. Sorry again. Bye.’ She turned to head towards home.

  ‘Weren’t you walking that way?’ asked Tom, his eyebrows puckered.

  �
��I was but that swine stole my bus pass so now I’m walking home.’ She put up her hood as the rain picked up its pace.

  ‘Where do you live?’ he asked.

  ‘Out by Furrow’s Cross.’

  His eyes widened. ‘That’s miles.’ Tom dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out a five-pound note. ‘Here.’ He shoved it at Maggie. ‘And I’ll walk you to the bus stop.’

  ‘No, I can’t take this.’

  Tom stepped away so she couldn’t return the money. ‘You need to watch out. There’s thugs out there…’ he paused and she nodded ‘…who punch people in the face when they come to their rescue.’

  ‘Again, very sorry.’ There was something about this lad that she liked.

  They exchanged smiles and started back down the alleyway, Tom leading the way and Maggie a pace behind. They walked in time. Their steps making a steady rhythm.

  They reached the bus stop and nipped into the shelter and out of the worst of the weather.

  ‘Thanks for this.’ Maggie held up the five-pound note. ‘I’ll pay you back.’

  ‘No rush.’

  The rain made a noise like gentle applause on the shelter roof. There was an awkward silence where they looked at each other and neither knew what to say. The sound of the bus approaching saved them.

  ‘Bye then,’ said Tom, turning to leave.

  ‘Will I see you at the library next week?’

  ‘I dunno. Maybe.’

  ‘If you come I can give you this money back.’

  He appeared to consider this. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  She got on the bus, paid the driver and took a seat on the side closest to the kerb. She watched Tom trudging up the hill. As the bus drew level he looked up. She lifted her hand and he gave her a brief nod of recognition. Well, what a Saturday that had been. She’d been mugged. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in years.

  3

  TOM