Lucy’s Book Club for the Lost and Found

by Emma Davies

  Oscar smiled and shook out the paper. ‘I’m quite tempted to join in myself,’ he said. ‘Except that I don’t know any of the words. They’re not like the nursery rhymes I knew in my day. Besides, I fear my pipes are a little rusty.’

  ‘You and me both, Oscar,’ Lucy replied with a grin.

  Rachel was waiting for her when she arrived back at the counter, pretending to rearrange the reservation shelf.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s weird?’ she said as soon as Lucy was in earshot. ‘I mean, he only comes in on a Wednesday when the children are here, and he could just as easily sit at the other end where it’s quieter if he wants to read.’

  Lucy gave Rachel an appraising look, and held her stare for slightly longer than was necessary. ‘I sincerely hope you’re not suggesting there is anything at all… unsavoury about Oscar. Because that would be extremely rude, judgemental and completely without any basis in truth.’

  The young girl had the grace to look a little ashamed, although the jut of her chin still gave Lucy cause for concern.

  ‘I only meant I find it odd, that’s all.’

  ‘Rachel, what days do you work here?’

  ‘Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Why?’

  ‘Because it might interest you to know that Oscar comes in every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, never on a weekend. He always sits at that table where he spends approximately two and a half hours reading, I suspect because it tides him over until lunchtime, at which point he goes to the Crown for a coffee and a sandwich before his afternoon walk.’

  Rachel’s mouth parted just a smidge. She closed it, pursing her lips and swallowed. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘No, and the only reason I know is because I bother to talk to people, Rachel. Especially people like Oscar, who come here for company and warmth because it beats sitting alone at home. Now, if you’re looking for something to do, the non-fiction returns need shelving.’

  Rachel stared at her, weighing up whether she could get away with making a pithy comeback. She shrugged. ‘Yeah, okay,’ she answered. ‘I just find him a bit creepy, that’s all. I’m allowed to, you know. And he dresses weird.’

  Lucy watched her walk away, then looked at her watch and sighed. Lucy had never been bothered by Rachel before, in the days when they were both just library assistants, but since Lucy had been promoted Rachel seemed to delight in making trouble. When Clare had announced her pregnancy and impending maternity leave, Lucy had been as surprised as the next person when her own name had been put forward to replace her. She could understand how Rachel felt; after all, she’d been at the library a lot longer than Lucy had. At first, she had thought her rise up the ladder was down to her degree and it was simply a matter of qualifications, but lately she had found herself becoming a little irritated by Rachel’s manner, and she wondered whether Clare had felt the same. The post was only for a year to cover the maternity leave, but some days Lucy felt like it was going to last an eternity.

  She could hear the approach of several loud children’s voices from the hallway, and turned to log in to the computer, smiling at Carrie as she breezed past her.

  ‘Right, that’s me up, Lucy,’ she said, reaching for a book on the counter. ‘Wish me luck.’

  Carrie loved the Rhyme Time sessions just as much as Lucy did, but the poor girl was nursing a cold, and a half-hour of energetic sing-alongs was probably the last thing she needed.

  ‘I’ll make you a big mug of tea when you’re done,’ replied Lucy, with a grin, to which she received a fervent thumbs-up.

  *

  Lucy took another bite of her banana as she prodded the teabags. It wasn’t even twelve yet and she was starving. She would finish at two today, in lieu of her late-night working, so she didn’t get a lunch hour, just a fifteen-minute break and then a raid of the biscuit tin when she got home. On a whim, she took down another mug and added a teabag to it. She felt a little guilty about Oscar for some reason; he wouldn’t have heard the comments that Rachel made, so there was no harm done, but she had found herself glancing across at him from time to time during the children’s singing and hated herself for doing so. Now she reasoned that she did so only because she trusted her instincts and wanted to prove them to herself, but instead of seeing his usual smiling face whenever she looked up, he had seemed rather sad. Perhaps a cup of tea would cheer him up.

  She dropped Carrie’s mug off at the counter first, as the poor girl was clearly gasping for a drink, and looked over to where Oscar had been sitting. His seat was empty.

  ‘Has Oscar gone?’ she asked.

  Carrie followed her line of sight. ‘Oh, I didn’t see him. Odd, because he usually calls goodbye. Maybe he’s just popped to the loo.’

  Hmm, maybe, thought Lucy to herself, but she could feel a faint prickle of something tugging at her. She picked up the mug of tea she’d made for him and carried it over to the table. Perhaps Oscar had heard more than she’d thought, because he never left without saying goodbye; he made a point of it, in fact. Plus, he had seemed his usual chirpy self that morning, so what had changed? She directed an irritated glance back at Rachel. If Oscar had heard the things she’d said, then Rachel was due a firm talking-to, and Lucy wouldn’t hold back.

  *

  ‘What’s the matter, love?’

  Lucy turned to look at her mum, the expression on her face so familiar. Even at the age of twenty-four it made her smile to see the way her mum looked at her, just like she had throughout Lucy’s childhood. Every time there had been a problem – with homework, bitchy girls at school, or a boyfriend who had not turned out to be what Lucy thought – then her mum’s dear face had been there. That same expression, those same words – What’s the matter, love? – and Lucy always knew that everything in her world would come right again.

  She gave her mother a weak smile. Dinner had been the usual noisy affair with her mum, dad, and younger brother, who hadn’t gone back to uni yet. It was a time Lucy usually loved; sharing in the events of the day, the banter, the highs, the lows. Her dad was a primary-school teacher and always had some funny tale to tell. But tonight Lucy had been quiet, unable to join in, as if she was slightly disconnected from everyone and everything around her. And, of course, her mum had noticed.

  ‘Is it that whatsit girl from the library again, giving you grief?’ asked her mum. ‘Because if it is, you can’t let her get to you like that.’

  Lucy gave a tired smile. ‘No, Mum, it’s nothing like that.’ She picked up the remote and clicked off the sound on the television. Neither of them had really been watching it anyway.

  ‘Well, I know there’s something on your mind. You’ve got that look about you; like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders.’ Her mum was searching her face for clues. ‘And if I know you, it won’t just go away either.’ She tipped her head to one side. ‘Lucy…’ she started a little hesitantly. ‘You know I’m not being critical in asking this, but are you actually happy at the library? Because if you’re not, no one will be upset if you change your mind about what you want to do. You could go back to your studies, make a career in teaching after all… No decision is ever final, is it? Your life is made up of endless possibilities.’

  Lucy thought about her mum’s words for a moment. She knew what she was getting at – in fact, she should probably be agreeing with her – but the instant she had heard the words Lucy’s instinct had been to deny them. She was happy at the library, she did enjoy being there – she just wasn’t sure why. After all, it really didn’t make any sense; ever since she was little she had talked about being a teacher like her dad. There had never been any other plan for her, and Lucy had set her sights on it with passion. She had graduated from uni with a first-class English degree, and had been all set to undertake the postgraduate course that would allow her to teach, when all of a sudden her dream had lost its shine. The job at the library was only meant to be temporary, while she worked out what she wanted to do, but as soon as she started working t
here it was as if she had come home. She felt like she belonged; she and the books were kindred spirits, and she could feel the magic that lay within their pages. The books had the ability to take their readers anywhere they wanted to go, could make them feel a dozen different emotions and allow them to explore new worlds. That all this could come from what was essentially a random collection of words on a page was a rare and wondrous alchemy. To Lucy’s surprise, it was also a power that she yearned to master herself and, shortly after taking up her job at the library, she had bought her first notebook in which to write. It lay beside her bed most of the time, relatively untouched. She had picked it up on many occasions, her pencil poised, but the right words never came. Perhaps her desire to write was just a foolish dream. She heaved a sigh. Only time would tell.

  Lucy nodded. ‘I know, Mum, but it’s nothing like that. I know it was a mad idea to give up all my dreams of teaching, but I love working at the library, honestly… I’ve just had some conversations recently that I can’t get out of my mind, that’s all. Nothing serious, though.’

  ‘But enough for you to lose your usual sunny disposition. Come on, tell me about it. You know you’ll feel better when you do.’

  So, Lucy did. And when she had finished, there was silence for a couple of minutes; Lucy at one end of the settee, her mum at the other, between them an open box of Jaffa Cakes which, at the rate they were going, wouldn’t last for very much longer. Lucy watched while her mum took another.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ she asked her cautiously. ‘Am I making mountains out of molehills again? I just think I should do something.’

  ‘I can see why it’s getting to you; you’ve always been so sensitive to other people’s feelings, even as a child. But as to whether you could, or should, do anything to help – now that’s a different matter.’

  ‘I’m not sure I should, but you didn’t see the look on Lia’s face, Mum. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone want anything more. And it’s such a simple thing – it’s not like she wants to win the lottery or anything. All she wants to do is dance, but she’s convinced herself she can’t because she has to care for her mum. She’s only young but her whole life is on hold.’

  ‘A difficult place to be, feeling torn between what you’d like to do and what you know you must do. Hasn’t she any other relatives that could help her out?’

  Lucy bit her lip. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘And this Oscar chap, have you even spoken to him about how he feels?’

  ‘Not as such, no. I went to talk to him, but he’d already gone. He looked so sad, Mum – he must have heard what Rachel said, and if he didn’t then something else has upset him… He’s on his own; his wife died a year or so ago, and he’s never mentioned anyone else. If he has any children, then I don’t think they live close by.’

  Her mum helped herself to another Jaffa Cake. ‘Well, you know what I think?’ she said. ‘Being a friend costs nothing – and from what you’ve said that’s exactly what Lia and Oscar need right now. Everything happens for a reason, and maybe if you give them a helping hand, somewhere along the line they’ll help you out too, give you something back in return that perhaps you never even knew you needed. That’s how it works in my experience.’

  ‘So, do you think I should talk to them both, see if I can help in any way?’

  ‘It can’t hurt to try, can it? Helping people has to be a good idea, whichever way you look at it.’

  Lucy stared at the packet of Jaffa Cakes, and took one thoughtfully. Her mum was right. What harm could it do?

  Chapter Five

  Lucy was worried she had missed Lia. It had been pandemonium in the library this morning; Carrie had phoned in sick and Rachel was in one of her ‘Monday morning moods’, which basically meant she would sit at the counter all day and find every excuse she could to stay there. Lia normally came in around ten in the morning, but Lucy was so busy sorting out the stock rotation in the children’s section that it was possible that she’d been and gone without Lucy even spotting her. If she didn’t catch her today she probably wouldn’t see her again until nearer the weekend, and the dance courses started next week.

  The day after her conversation with her mum, Lucy had fired off a series of emails to various dance schools in the local area. Not to interfere, but just so that she could let Lia have the information in case there was any way she could attend. There were all sorts of reasons why people didn’t follow their dreams. She should know; she stopped herself from doing so all the time. Things moved on and then there you were two years down the line and no further forward. Perhaps this was how it was for Lia? Maybe she’d already convinced herself that her desires were just silly whims, too far out of reach to ever be attainable. But what if Lucy was able to show her otherwise? Prove to her that these things could be within her grasp after all. The emails she had sent on Lia’s behalf were simply the first step.

  It was gone half eleven now and Lucy gathered together the books she had been collecting, ready to box up and send on to another branch. She supposed she could always give Lia a call – her number would be on her library record – but that might seem a little pushy. Lucy had envisioned something a little more spontaneous, even if it was pre-planned.

  She was almost at the stockroom door when she heard her name being called. It would seem that fate was on her side, after all. ‘Morning,’ she said, smiling as she turned around.

  Lia looked dreadful. Even tying her hair up hadn’t disguised the fact that it was long overdue for a wash. Nor did it give her face a place to hide; a face that was far too pale with dark shadows under her eyes.

  ‘Is everything okay? You’re a little later than usual this morning.’

  Lia opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. A flicker of something passed across her face, but then she dropped her eyes and took a deep breath. When she raised them again, Lucy knew that the teeny window of time when Lia might have shared how she was actually feeling had passed. It was business as usual.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I wondered if you could give me a hand with something, though, I’m a bit short on time this morning.’

  ‘Yes, of course, what was it you wanted?’

  ‘A new book to read to Mum. I haven’t got time to look properly today, and I know you’ll be able to put your hand on the perfect thing in a heartbeat.’

  ‘No problem. Just let me pop these books in the storeroom. Won’t be a sec.’

  She joined Lia in the fiction section moments later, undecided whether now was really the right time to broach the subject of the dance classes.

  ‘So, are we looking for something along the same lines as usual?’ she asked.

  Lia looked around her. ‘Probably,’ she said. ‘Although the last few I read her, Mum tutted and groaned the whole time. Something a bit nostalgic or old-fashioned still appears to work best, though. She seems to make more connections with those over more modern writing.’

  Lucy’s brain was racing ahead of her. ‘How much of the story does she understand? I mean, there’s a book I’m thinking of, but it’s actually a children’s book. Would that matter, or wouldn’t she really notice?’

  ‘I’ll give anything a go to be honest. I read Beatrix Potter once out of desperation and she seemed to quite enjoy it.’

  ‘Right, wait here,’ said Lucy, and hurried off. She plucked the book she was looking for off the shelf and stared at the cover. Perhaps…

  Seconds later she delivered it into Lia’s waiting hands. ‘You might enjoy this too.’ She held her breath.

  Lia grasped the book tightly, as one finger drew a line under the title. She seemed so lost in her thoughts that Lucy doubted if she had any conscious control over it.

  She sighed. ‘Oh, I haven’t read this for such a long time.’

  And Lucy could imagine her suddenly: the young child, caught in the magic of the story, transported into the world she longed to be a part of, but which she knew she could never reach.

  ‘T
his and Ballet Shoes, of course. I read them both over and over.’ She looked up at Lucy. ‘Do you know the stories?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘They were favourites of mine too. My friends and I used to pretend we were the sisters – I was always Posy – dreaming of a life on the stage. I mean what little girl didn’t?’

  Lia stared at the book in her hand. ‘I’m not sure it’s really a good idea…’ The familiar arguments against reading it were coming now; the adult reasoning that told her the pain of remembering was far greater than the pain of allowing herself to forget.

  Looking at Lia’s face, Lucy could feel her own emotions threatening to get the better of her. She crossed to another aisle of shelves and withdrew a thick book. ‘Take this as well,’ she said, handing her a Maeve Binchy. ‘This is set in the fifties – an easy story if you think Dancing Shoes might be a bit much for her. I am going to insist you take that one anyway, though. I think you need to read it.’

  Lia stared at her, her lip trembling slightly as she flushed. ‘Thank you,’ she said. She looked at her watch. ‘I ought to go…’ she added.

  ‘Would ten minutes hurt?’ asked Lucy. ‘I was just going to put the kettle on.’

  She could see the indecision across Lia’s face. ‘No, I’d better not. We… we haven’t had a good weekend you see, and I’ve only popped out now because Mum fell asleep and a neighbour’s keeping an eye on her. She doesn’t normally nap for longer than half an hour, so…’

  Lucy smiled brightly. ‘Good job you live in the town.’

  ‘Er, yes.’ Lia was looking a little distracted now.

  ‘Tell you what, pop over to Rachel at the counter to have your books issued. I need to quickly print something off for you before you go, so hang on just a tick.’

  She ushered Lia to the counter and went through into the back office where she did all her paperwork. Her email was already open and it only took a moment to find the message she was looking for. She printed off the attached brochure and hurried back. Lia was waiting by the door.