The Library

by Bella Osborne

  All was well so she made her way back to the farmhouse. Maggie put her boots next to her husband’s and went into the kitchen. She wasn’t sure why she’d kept his wellies. Most things had gone to charity, but she couldn’t part with his old boots. Daft really, but it made her feel less alone to see the wellingtons of years gone by all rowed up. She had a rummage in the freezer and found the last of the rhubarb. She liked crumble but unfortunately it was quick and easy to make. She set about making lasagne. That would kill some time.

  Loneliness had crept up on her like damp seeping into her soul. She often thought about all the times in her life when she had wished for more time and now here she was with oodles of the stuff stretching out before her like it had all been saved up and paid with interest when she needed it least.

  *

  After dinner Maggie, wearing a kaftan teamed with her stretchiest leggings, made herself comfortable on the sitting room floor. She knelt down and moved easily into the Balasana or child’s yoga pose with her arms stretched out in front of her, her forehead resting on the rug. She let her mind wash freely with thoughts and focused on her breathing before moving onto a Shirshasana headstand.

  She’d been doing yoga since her teens when she’d briefly lived on a commune and fully embraced the hippie way of life. Yoga helped her to clear her mind and focus on her body. Her body had done her proud. She’d not always looked after it over the years and yet it didn’t seem to hold a grudge. She’d favoured Maharishi yoga before the Beatles made it and its Yogi popular. A phase of being vegetarian and taking up yoga had almost tipped her mother over the edge. They had seemed like such radical life changes at the time and yet now they were commonplace. For many it was part of their journey to spiritual enlightenment; for Maggie it was about breaking away from the confines of her parents and their safe little lives.

  Over the years her yoga had evolved as she had pushed herself and explored the limits of her body. Now she had a few solid routines she returned to that kept her mind and body healthy. Although after Saturday’s revelation she had decided to focus on building her strength. Maggie eased herself down into a comfortable sitting position to begin her silent mantra meditation but her mind was distracted.

  Maggie loved her home. It was all hers. She didn’t owe anyone a penny, so as long as she paid the bills she had a roof over her head for life. Not something she had always been fortunate enough to enjoy but something she was desperate to maintain. It was far from perfect. This was most notable during the winter months when she was constantly patching the place up and heating it was more than a challenge. She focused her warming efforts on the kitchen, small sitting room and her bedroom. They were the rooms she used, and therefore all that needed to be liveable.

  It was an old property but it was a sturdy one. What it lacked in modern conveniences it made up for in character. Its stone floors would chill you to the bone if you were fool enough to walk on them barefoot in winter. But in summer they were a joy to lie on. They had also been a boon when Maggie had gone through the menopause and hot flushes had driven her to lying on the flagstones naked. She only ever met the posh people from the Hall that one time; they never called by again.

  Nobody visited now so there was no call for ceremony, not that she’d ever been one for that. But she did miss the parties. Oh the parties she’d held when she was younger and married. She’d been happy and she’d been loved by a good man. She’d lived a life. All very long ago now though. All that was left were shadows of happiness that had lingered briefly before disappearing like smoke in the breeze.

  Maggie gave up on the meditation and went to sit in her chair. She picked up her current read. Reading was her other escape. Another world she could step into and be surrounded by characters brought to life on the page. She could meet untold people and live a thousand exciting lives through the pages. It was her solace and always had been ever since she was a child. It had helped her in difficult times – of which she had experienced many. And now reading helped ease the lack of human contact.

  Most of all Maggie missed the hugs. It was a peculiar quirk of polite modern society that without a partner or offspring in your life you were denied that one key comfort that humans require – the need for physical contact. An embrace can be on many different levels but the basic sensation of emotional and physical warmth given freely by another is most noticeable when it is no longer there. If she’d realised the last time she was hugged was significant she would have paid more attention, committed it to memory so she could recall the sensations at will for the many times since, when all she had needed had been for someone to hold her.

  5

  TOM

  I had rehearsed my speech a thousand times in my head. Each time it went slightly differently, which wasn’t a good thing. It was Saturday and I needed to return the eight romance novels. I had read them all, but only because I’d been that bored. My goal was to be as quick as possible in the library without drawing attention to myself. My invisibility shield was in place.

  I hurried towards Christine the librarian who was standing at the podium, giving the briefest of acknowledgements to Maggie as I passed. I tugged my bag off my shoulder but I did it too quickly and the weight of it swung into the computer monitor. Christine gasped. I tried to grab the monitor but it skidded off the podium. It hung for a second by the cable before the connector let go and the monitor crashed to the floor. She gasped again. I could feel everyone watching me. It was all the ladies from around the big table. Their eyes were boring holes in my skull and it prickled.

  Christine was wildly waving her arms about but apart from more gasps she said nothing.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears. I went to help pick up the monitor but my precariously balanced bag fell over, spilling out most of its contents onto the floor: some of the books, half a pack of gaming cards and some chewing gum wrappers. We almost bumped heads as we bent down at the same time. ‘Sorry,’ I said, lurching out of the way, the familiar rush of heat spreading up my neck like spilled tomato soup.

  Christine picked up the monitor and scanned it closely from many different angles. ‘I think it’s broken.’ She showed it to me but from a distance to avoid me doing any further damage.

  ‘Looks okay to me,’ I said. There were no cracks on the screen, which was a huge relief. Dad would freak if he had to pay for a new one.

  ‘It can’t have survived that drop,’ said Christine, turning it in my direction again.

  ‘Let’s plug it back in and see,’ said Maggie, taking it from her and returning it to the podium while I shoved everything back in my bag. ‘I’m sure it’s fine, Christine. It landed on carpet. How much damage can it have done?’ Maggie reattached the cable and she and the librarian watched the screen intently. I joined them. My pulse beating frantically but my breathing momentarily paused as I waited for the monitor to show some signs of life.

  The screen flickered and I took in a deep breath. ‘See,’ said Maggie. ‘No harm done.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, leaving my rucksack on the floor and decanting the books from it one by one. Everyone continued to watch. So much for not drawing attention to myself. Invisible people like me don’t usually break cover unless it’s a life or death situation.

  ‘Here,’ said Maggie, passing me a five-pound note. ‘Thanks again for the loan. And for stepping in.’ I glanced at the table and all the women were silently watching our exchange. I expect she’ll have told them what happened last week.

  ‘’S all right.’

  ‘How’s the nose?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘Fine. You okay?’ I felt I had to ask and I kind of wanted to know she was all right too.

  ‘Fine. Annoyed about losing the bag and it’s a pain trying to get a new bus pass.’

  She was still looking at me as if waiting for something else. I didn’t know what to say so I nodded.

  ‘Which books did your mum like the best?’ asked Christine.

 
This was not a question I had prepared for. I had responses planned for “Did she enjoy them?” and “Does she want any more?” But not this. The unexpected question made me stare at the pile of books now stacked on the podium. I scanned their spines trying to pick one. Pick one! my brain yelled.

  ‘Frederica…’

  ‘Oh, the Georgette Heyer,’ said Christine. ‘It is a classic of hers. If history’s her thing then let me see.’ She darted from behind the podium before I could speak.

  ‘I loved this one,’ said Maggie tapping the book on the top of the pile, Staying at Daisy’s by Jill Mansell, and drawing my attention away from Christine who was collecting books from the shelves like a library version of a trolley dash.

  I was already nodding. ‘I…’ I nearly said, “I liked that one too.” Shit. That was close. I was in dangerous territory and I was afraid of dropping myself into more trouble. ‘I think my mum liked that one too.’

  ‘Has she read Me Before You?’ asked Maggie. It was likely the fear was now clearly visible in my eyes. ‘It’s okay. I’ll dig it out and you can take it home and ask her.’

  ‘If she’s not read it I’m sure she’ll love that one,’ said a tiny lady from the table. I nodded and tried to swallow. It was quite difficult because I appeared to have stopped producing saliva.

  ‘She’s probably read it,’ said a gruff woman.

  ‘Or most likely she’s seen the film,’ added another.

  ‘The film wasn’t as good as the book,’ said the tiny lady, half to me and half to the group.

  ‘They never are,’ said Christine, adding books to a very tall pile that teetered in her arms.

  ‘I liked the film better,’ said one of them and a heated discussion ensued. I envied the humble hedgehog its ability to hide within itself. My invisibility cloak didn’t seem to work at the library.

  ‘Here,’ said Maggie, handing me the book they were discussing. ‘It’s one of my favourites. Funny and poignant is tricky to pull off.’

  Its cover didn’t give much away but I was intrigued by the thirteen million copies sold sticker – that’s a lot of romance books. ‘Thanks.’ It was an automatic response.

  ‘I hope she enjoys it.’ Maggie returned to the table.

  ‘Right,’ said Christine, puffing out a breath. ‘I feel like Amazon.’ She snorted a laugh. ‘If you liked that, you may also like this.’ She held up the books in turn and grinned wildly. She checked them all out for me, including the one Maggie had recommended. Christine patted the books into a neat pile and slid them towards me. I took a hasty glance at the door. Thankfully there was no sign of anyone I knew. I plunged the books into my rucksack and pulled the drawstring tight shut.

  This wasn’t how this was meant to go. I was meant to return the romance novels and that would be the end of it. I’d brought some homework to do because I was still avoiding Dad and thought the library might help me keep focused and for some reason I’d quite liked being there. Also I didn’t have anywhere to work at home. The kitchen and living room were a mess and it just didn’t work lying on my bed. ‘Do you have any books on the history of medicine?’ I asked. Christine froze like someone had hit a pause button.

  ‘But you wanted romance books?’

  ‘No. Not me. My mum wants those. I’ve got homework and I thought I’d work on it here.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ She seemed to relax a bit. ‘Let me check if we have anything on the history of medicine.’ She tapped a few things into the computer and beckoned me to follow her to the back of the library to search out some relevant books.

  My afternoon in the library was all right. There’s a smell – a good one. Something you only get at the library. And it was quiet. At home the TV is always on. Since Mum died Dad doesn’t do silence. I usually have my music on but the peacefulness was better. I actually got some decent work done. A few people came and went. Everyone left me alone. I liked it.

  I’m not usually great when it comes to homework. Shoddy is the word my maths teacher likes to use and I think most of my other teachers would agree. I don’t find it easy so I do what I have to, just enough to avoid anything being sent home. But we had our GCSE mock results this week and basically I’m okay in English but pretty much everything else is barely above rubbish. I’d said I wasn’t bothered to my mates, because that’s what you do, but really I was. It might sound dumb but I’ve just realised getting good results is my ticket out of here. Good GCSEs means I get to do A levels, which could get me a place at university. I wish I’d worked this out sooner. All my mates assumed they’d go to university apart from one who wants to sell cars like his dad. Now we’ve got our mock results it’s looking a lot less likely. That scares me because there’s no jobs around here – only rubbish ones.

  When I packed up my things there was just Christine and Maggie left in the library. I’d been focused on my essay and not noticed the other people drift away. I put my coat on at the same time as Maggie and found we were walking out together. She held the door for me.

  ‘New bag?’ I asked noticing the brightly patterned shopper she had slung on her shoulder.

  ‘Not new. One I’ve dug out of the cupboard. I don’t care if I lose this one.’

  It dawned on me that she was anticipating being attacked again. Although she hadn’t seemed it last week Maggie must have been shaken by the experience. She was probably terrified of walking back down the alleyway. She wasn’t very big and she was pretty old. ‘I’ll walk you to the bus stop. You know? If you like.’

  Maggie turned. She was frowning hard at me. ‘That’s kind but I will be all right on my own.’

  ‘I know.’ I pointed at my nose. But we both knew that was a lucky punch and she could have ended up in hospital. ‘I’m going that way anyway. I don’t want you thinking I’m following you.’

  Her frown softened. ‘As long as you don’t think I’m some little old lady who needs looking after.’

  ‘Err. No. Obviously not.’ That was exactly what I was thinking because she was a little old lady. I don’t think my thoughts were unreasonable.

  ‘I saw you studying. Did you get much done?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What subject?’

  ‘History.’

  ‘Because you like history or because you need to do better?’

  ‘I got bad results in my mocks.’ Why was I telling her that? I’ve not even told Dad. I’m waiting for the school to do that. Everyone else has a computer so their parents already know. It’s the first time I’ve been pleased about not having one.

  ‘Bit of a wake-up call, was it?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Fail now and it’s the dog food factory for me.’

  Maggie spun around to face me, making me stop suddenly to avoid knocking her over. ‘What?’ She gave me the same concerned look she did last week when there was blood pouring from my nose. But this time she looked more alarmed. ‘Is someone threatening you?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Her concerned expression intensified. ‘My dad wants me to work at the factory.’

  Maggie dissolved into peals of laughter. ‘Goodness, you had me worried there. I thought someone was threatening to turn you into dog food.’

  ‘It’s not a Mafia thing. They’re not going to feed me to the fishes.’ She was still laughing. It wasn’t that funny. ‘Although, that would be better than working at the factory. It stinks.’

  She renewed her cackle of a laugh and it set me off too. We’d stopped by the time we reached the bus shelter. It was dark and there was nobody else waiting.

  ‘When’s your bus?’ I asked.

  ‘Twenty minutes. Go on, you get off. I’m fine.’ She did a shooing motion with her hand.

  ‘Nah, you’re okay.’ I didn’t like the thought of her sitting there on her own. It didn’t seem right to walk off and leave her, not after what had happened.

  There was silence while we both took it in turns to look at our feet and smile at each other. It seems she wasn’t great at conversation either. She got a
book out of her bag and I thought of the many that were weighing mine down and put it on the ground. ‘What’s your book?’ I asked.

  ‘Book club read. It’s what I come here for each week. And to read the papers.’ She turned the book to show me and I read the title. Dark Matter by Michelle Paver. ‘It’s a ghost story. It’s not really my thing but that’s why you join a book club. Do you read much?’

  ‘No, not at all.’ I shook my head firmly and then thought maybe that was a bit extreme. ‘I do read a bit. You know. What they make me read at school.’ I tried to look bored.

  Maggie’s eyes looked sad. ‘I used to love reading when I was young. I’d spend hours escaping into a book. Rather be reading than studying – that was always my problem. Until I discovered boys then… well… Here’s my bus.’

  ‘See ya then.’

  ‘Next week?’ She held my gaze. Usually this made me feel uncomfortable, like seriously uncomfortable, as if I wanted to unzip my own skin and take it off like a onesie, but for some reason this time I was okay.

  ‘Yeah. See ya next week.’

  She got on the bus and I watched it go.

  6

  MAGGIE

  She wasn’t sure if it was her but the week was dragging. She longed for Saturday more than she usually did. Meeting Tom had added a whole new dimension to her trip to the village library. She could strike up a conversation with the others in book group but for some reason when people reached a certain age they seemed fascinated with their ailing health and their misguided belief that others were equally as interested.

  She didn’t want to be reminded of her advancing years; she wanted to rewind. Actually that wasn’t it at all. Her youth had not been a happy one, she certainly didn’t want to relive that. But she did like talking to Tom. She was stretching things by describing it as talking. He wasn’t chatty at all but at least any conversation, however brief, wasn’t focused on his bowels or medication, which was a relief.