20. Rosa
20
ROSA
R osa had struggled for as long as she could to keep the water from the books and then she’d decided that she needed to move them, so she’d lowered the blankets and started taking them to the back of the shop. There, she placed them on the chairs, the tables and on any other free surface so that if the water swept in over the floor, the books would be out of the way.
It took ages because she was trembling from the cold and from anxiety. She inhaled shaky breaths, encountering the smells of salt water, wet paper, ink, and earth. The metallic taste of fear filled her mouth and sat on her tongue like a corrosive penny.
When she’d finished moving the books, she returned to the front of the shop and stared out at the street. The sea had become furious and lashed the village with its power, throwing sea foam on the wind and blasting shells, sand, windows, buildings, and anyone foolish enough to be outside.
Rosa grabbed the driest blanket and a handful of pins from the board behind the counter, then she started pinning the blanket over the hole in the window. It moved in and out like a flapping sail, making a sucking noise on each outward movement, but it held fast and would keep the worst of the weather out.
Then she retreated into the shop to sit and wait it out. Damage had been done, but she wouldn’t know how much until tomorrow. Sinking onto the floor in front of a bookcase in the children’s section, she buried her face in her hands. She would stay there like a captain with his sinking ship, hoping that the storm would pass, hoping that tomorrow would be a brighter day.