The Library of Lost and Found

by Phaedra Patrick

  Her eyes were a startling sea-glass blue, contrasting with her white hair. Under her beige trouser suit, she wore a white top that could either be a blouse or a work shirt. Her coral-orange toenails peeped out from her khaki sandals and a watch hung upside down, pinned to her chest. “Yes?” she asked with the apprehension of someone who answered the door to too many cold callers.

  For a moment Martha felt as if she didn’t inhabit her own body. Her feet were planted firmly on the ground but her head felt floaty, far away. She was aware that she might be staring. “Are you Gina?” she asked.

  The woman’s forehead wrinkled. “Yes,” she said, her voice tinged with suspicion.

  Any words Martha had lined up suddenly stuck in her throat. This was all so difficult to explain and she wasn’t sure where to start. She was here, probably chasing a ghost. The first word that came out of her mouth was her customary, “Sorry.”

  The next thing she said sounded obtuse, even to her. So she couldn’t imagine how it might sound to this woman. “I’m looking for Ezmerelda. Zelda Sanderson.”

  The woman clamped her teeth together so her cheeks twitched. “Who is asking?” She had a slight Nordic accent and pronounced each of her words clearly.

  And with her throat terribly tight, and tears threatening to spring to her eyes, Martha uttered the words she’d never imagined she’d get to say again.

  “I’m her granddaughter. I’m Martha Storm.”

  12

  Wheelchair

  Gina stood motionless for a while. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Martha. “I think you may have the wrong address,” she said. She raised her hand and started to close the door.

  But Martha heard a warble in her voice, a hint of a lie. After all the things she’d discovered to do with the little book, she couldn’t let this go. She quickly angled her head to the side, to peer through the diminishing gap. “I don’t think so. A book led me here. Blue Skies and Stormy Seas, by E. Y. Sanderson.”

  Gina’s fingers tightened around the door and her knuckles whitened. She hesitated for a few moments before she pulled the door back open. Retracting her hand, she fingered the timepiece on her jacket.

  Martha didn’t want any yearning to show in her face, to give away how important this was to her. She had to stop the questions of what had happened to Zelda, all those years ago, from rampaging in her head once and for all. She concentrated on keeping her face as expression-free as possible, though she was sure her eyes shone with hopefulness.

  Finally, Gina glanced back over her shoulder, towards the kitchen. “You had better come inside.”

  Martha stepped into the hallway. She cast her eyes around, at the floral wallpaper and the cream, green and brick-red Victorian tiles on the floor. Photos lined the walls in a multitude of different frames but her eyes flitted over them, not able to settle on the scenes and people they featured. The smell of cake warmed the air, making it feel like a family home, the opposite to her own house.

  The black Scottie dog scampered towards her, his claws skittering on the hallway floor. She bent down to ruffle him under the chin and saw his name tag in the shape of a silver bone. Percy.

  “Stay here, please,” Gina said crisply, as if she was a doctor’s receptionist and Martha was a patient who’d turned up very late for her appointment. She walked to the kitchen and closed the door behind her.

  Martha stood for a moment, wondering what she should do. It seemed impolite to look around the hallway, for clues of her grandmother, so she crouched and continued to admire Percy. He was delighted by the attention but her hands shook as she stroked his head.

  As Percy flipped over with his legs raised in the air, Martha could hear the murmur of voices and the scratch of her nails on the dog’s stomach. She felt almost motion-sick, her head swaying, as she waited, and waited.

  Every inch of her body felt alert. The roots of her hair were on end and she could hear every noise. She detected two voices in the kitchen and a strange sound of something moving around in there.

  Time ticked by too slowly before the kitchen door finally opened again. Gina ventured out of the room first and, through her legs, Martha caught a glimpse of a wheel. She saw a few inches of turquoise blanket.

  Gina stood to the side and a woman in a wheelchair rolled forward. Martha saw her hands, then her shoulders and headscarf.

  Everything seemed to fall into slow motion.

  Martha lifted her head and stopped stroking Percy. He butted her hand, eager for more petting. She stood up, leaving him staring up at her. Her knees felt like they weren’t her own.

  She tried to find a smile but felt her face begin to crumble. Her chin shook with disappointment.

  She was standing in a hallway with two people she didn’t know.

  A sob wracked in her chest and she fought against it. Then a tear spilled down her cheek and she angrily tore at it with her fist. She’d made a big stupid mistake. Her nana had died a long time ago and she was here, making a fool of herself.

  The woman in the wheelchair was a stranger.

  She wasn’t Zelda.

  In one last desperate attempt, Martha frantically searched in her head, for images of her nana that she could associate with the person sitting in front of her, but she couldn’t find anything.

  Her nana had tanned long legs and cartwheeled on the beach. However, this woman’s ankles, peeking out under the blanket, were gnarled with blue veins. Zelda’s blond curls used to escape from her headscarf but this woman covered every hair on her head. Martha’s grandmother had skin that crinkled with laughter around her eyes, yet the stranger’s face had deep folds like creases in a velvet curtain.

  Martha berated herself. Just because she believed in fairy stories when she was small didn’t mean they came true. One of her knees buckled and she had to focus on remaining upright.

  In a brief flashback, she remembered her nana hoisting her skirt above her knees to show off her new cork-wedged sandals but going too far and giving a couple of workmen a flash of her knickers. She saw her with hairpins poking out between her lips like strange teeth as she set her hair in rollers.

  The word sorry bubbled on her lips, but she couldn’t let it out in case a blub followed it. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop crying—at her own stupid belief and at how pathetic she was. Traveling all this way had been a huge mistake.

  She watched the woman’s eyes shifting over her, examining her from top to toe, taking in every detail. She lingered on Martha’s hairstyle, her clothes, the shape of her body, the size of her hands, before finally settling on her shoes.

  She’s wondering who the hell I am.

  The woman rubbed her nose, her eyebrows knitted. A sudden blast of laughter burst from her lips. She threw her head back and then forward again. “Ha ha.”

  Martha didn’t know what to do, or what was going on.

  The woman laughed for a while and then her smile gradually subsided. It was replaced with a searching squint of her eyes. Then she opened her mouth to speak. “Bloody hell. Is it really you, Martha?”

  Time froze as Martha’s senses homed in on her words. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked to attention.

  It was a voice that she knew.

  And had loved.

  Martha forced herself to look harder at the woman sitting in front of her. She was small and hunched, with her body half obscured by her blanket. She had a missing tooth, on the top row and to the left, and Martha remembered the toffee apple incident at the fair.

  The missing molar was the key for her to begin to unlock the rest of the woman’s features. Perhaps she did recognize her kind blue eyes.

  “Z-Zelda?”

  “That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” the old woman said, still grinning.

  Martha reeled to the side and pressed her hand to the wall.

  Her memory of the younger ve
rsion of Zelda and the woman in front of her slowly started to align. It was like watching a person swimming underwater. First you could see only their shape and colors, and it was only when they broke the surface that you could see them clearly.

  And now she knew in her bones that her nana was sitting here before her.

  “You’re a bloody grown-up lady,” Zelda said, her eyes glistening. Her hands clutched the blanket on her knees. “In my head, you’re a teenager.” Then her smile faltered. It slipped away, replaced by one of bewilderment. “You even have stripes in your hair.”

  Martha took a step forward. She cleared her throat. “Zelda Sanderson?” she asked formally, her eyes still questioning. She couldn’t believe that the woman who helped to raise her, who shared stories with her, who she believed to be dead, was here. “Nana?”

  As she said that word, it sounded beautiful but bizarre, too, because she was middle-aged and the woman in front of her was an old lady. Martha had laid her to rest in her mind many times. She’d said goodbye. Forever.

  “Is it really you?” She gasped.

  Zelda gave a slight nod. She wiped a tear away with a crooked finger. Then she held out her hand.

  Martha looked over at Gina, not quite sure why she was seeking some kind of permission from the lady who answered the door. Gina semiclosed her eyes and turned her head away.

  Hesitantly, Martha stepped forward and reached out. When she took hold of her nana’s fingers they felt like brittle twigs. She held them lightly, not wanting to squeeze any tighter in case they snapped. “I thought you were gone. Mum and Dad told me you died—so how can you be here?”

  Zelda lowered her eyes and stared at her lap. “I’m so sorry...” She pulled her hand away and fumbled up her sleeve for a handkerchief.

  Martha’s temples pulsated. “But why would they tell me that? What happened?”

  “I never thought I’d see you again...” Zelda shook her head.

  “Where have you been?” Martha let her hands fall. “My parents lied to me... Do you know they died?”

  Zelda gave the slightest nod. “Yes. A few years ago. I know about them.”

  “So, why didn’t you—?”

  “Stop now,” Gina snapped. Her features were frosty as she moved to the center of the hallway. Martha had to step backwards to give her some space. “Ezmerelda needs to take things easy.”

  The tendons in Martha’s neck strained. She balled her hand into a fist. “It’s been over thirty years. I need to know—”

  “It’s best if you leave now,” Gina said.

  Martha glared at her. “But we need to talk.”

  “The doctor has told Ezmerelda to rest up, with no excitement.”

  Zelda reached out and tugged on Gina’s jacket. “Please. Martha is here and this is all so...bloody weird and amazing.”

  Gina’s eyes remained hard.

  “I feel as fit as a flea, honestly. I’ve already promised not to cartwheel for a while.”

  “I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Martha pleaded. “I found a dedication in a book but the date was wrong, and I managed to trace it to here. I didn’t expect to find that Zelda is still alive.”

  Gina lifted her chin. Her voice softened a little. “I know you have lots of things to discuss, but it is something to arrange for another time. This is a big shock for everyone.”

  Even though Martha felt her cheeks burn with frustration, she pursed her lips. “Yes. Yes, it is,” she agreed, finally.

  “We can meet properly, soon.” Zelda said. “After I’ve rested.”

  “You need to lie down,” Gina said.

  “I will do. I promise.” Zelda turned her attention to Martha. “There’s a funfair in town, not far from here.”

  “You will not be going there.” Gina folded her arms.

  Zelda widened her eyes. “Hold your horses, Gina. I was about to say there’s a small café at the fair. They do milkshakes and you can watch the rides.”

  “I am not stopping you from seeing your granddaughter. I am trying to protect you.”

  Martha stepped forward, wondering why this white-haired lady had such a big say in her nana’s life. “Surely, it’s up to Zelda.”

  Gina cast her a withering stare.

  Zelda wheeled forward an inch. “I’m not trying to escape.” She sighed. “I won’t be going on the roller coaster. After the godawful doom and gloom of hospital it will be good to get out. I’d like to be around people enjoying themselves, who don’t have ailments and injuries. What’s wrong with going to the café?”

  Gina’s moved her arms out of their fold. “Okay,” she said, eventually. “I will give it some thought.”

  “Can I have your phone number, Martha?” Zelda said.

  Martha took her Wonder Woman notepad from her pocket. She wrote down her address and phone number. After tearing out the sheet of paper, she handed it to her nana. “Call me anytime,” she said. “I’ll be waiting. I still live in Mum and Dad’s old house.”

  Zelda nodded. She tucked the paper into her pocket and raised her hand in a fragile wave. “Thanks for finding me.”

  Martha’s feet felt rooted. She didn’t want to leave, but Gina had raised herself to full height. She stood stiffly, her body rigid.

  Not knowing whether to kiss her nana on the cheek or not, Martha decided against it. When Gina followed her to the door, it felt like she was being escorted off the premises.

  “She is an old lady,” Gina hissed as she took hold of the doorknob. “I do not know why you’ve turned up after all this time, but it is my job to look after Ezmerelda. I will not let anything or anyone get in the way. I want to make sure you are clear about that.”

  Martha swallowed, taken aback by her forceful tone. “Yes.”

  “Good. Goodbye.”

  Martha crooked her head to the side briefly and mouthed, “Goodbye,” to her nana. Then she stepped over the threshold and back onto the path. She didn’t hear if Zelda said goodbye or not, and she was glad that she hadn’t. Saying farewell to her all those years ago had been hard enough, without doing it again.

  The door shut and Martha walked toward the gate. Her knees had jelly for joints and her fingers were numb as she opened it. Her hands shook as she pushed them into her pockets, but as she raised her face to the wind, the daylight seemed much brighter.

  Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she closed the gate and looked down the country lane one way and then the other, wondering where to go. For someone so focused on planning, she’d overlooked something very big. She’d not given any thought to how she was going to get home.

  13

  Monkey Puzzle

  Martha walked down the country lane for more than a mile before she spotted a wooden sign that told her the town center was a farther mile away. She was aware of putting one foot in front of the other but found herself unable to take in her surroundings. It was as if she was gliding in a dream. Her heart pounded so strongly it felt it might burst out of her chest.

  My nana is alive.

  As she passed by hedgerows and fences, she half expected a man to leap out holding a microphone and wearing a manic grin, to tell her that she’d been pranked for one of those shouty Saturday night TV shows. “Surprise. You thought you’d found your nana, but it was all a big joke. Bad luck.”

  Adrenaline flooded her body and she wanted to break into a run, to feel the wind whooshing through her hair.

  She wanted to scribble down all the questions that were piling up in her head, down in her notepad. She’d mark them with an amber star, because they were all in motion but none of them resolved. Her discovery of Blue Skies and Stormy Seas was rewriting her family history as she knew it.

  She also knew that among the highs of happiness of discovering Zelda, secrets and lies were lurking.

  She passed by a church and her stomach hardened
as she remembered her dad telling her she couldn’t go to her nana’s funeral. “It’s not an experience for young people,” he’d said. “You can find your own way to let her go.”

  “I want to say goodbye properly,” Martha had insisted.

  “Your mother and I will attend. Not you.”

  “Your dad has made up his mind,” her mother had repeated, over and over, as Martha pleaded to go.

  “I don’t want to go to a funeral, anyway,” Lilian had said when Martha tried to get her on her side. “People crying and sniffling and wearing black. No, thank you.”

  Martha had walked around the cemetery for weeks after Zelda died. She’d read every single gravestone but couldn’t find anything with her nana’s name on it. She scoured through the remembrance book in the church, and there was nothing there, either. She wondered if her grandmother had originated from somewhere other than Sandshift, so the funeral might have been held elsewhere. It was a puzzle she couldn’t solve.

  However, now she knew the reason she hadn’t been able to find anything to do with Zelda’s death.

  Because it hadn’t happened.

  The revelation made her feel both ecstatic and sick at the same time.

  And with these thoughts tangling in her head, Martha didn’t even notice that she had walked the rest of the distance and arrived in the village.

  * * *

  Benton Bay was the type of place that spelled out its name in flowers on a grass verge, and it still had a red telephone box on a corner.

  Still in a daze, Martha meandered past a baker’s shop, newsagent, chemist and butcher’s shop. When she looked in the window, at the strings of sausages, she pictured Zelda chasing her across the lawn, holding on to raw sausages and shouting, “I’ve got giant fingers.”

  She half smiled at the memory and continued along the street, not really noticing the shops and people surrounding her. But then something made her halt in her tracks. A wooden sign, hanging on chains above a door, featured a tree and book logo.

  Martha stood beneath it and looked up. “Monkey Puzzle Books,” she said aloud. Her senses lit up as she admired the shop’s cream-painted mullions and the colorful array of children’s books and soft toys on display in the window. She reached out to touch the glass.