Chapter Fourteen Jemma
Chapter Fourteen JEMMA
I take a deep breath and inhale my happy place.
‘Morning, Jemma.’ Anita greets me warmly from the front desk, though she’s already in conversation with someone having computer issues. Beside her, Mack swings in his chair, doing nothing. I catch his eye and he snarls.
I wave pointedly just to Anita, glaring back at Mack before heading for the returns box.
Things have changed a lot since I used to come here as a kid, and there’s now not really much need for front desk staff when it comes to returns.
They have machines where you can check out or log the return of books.
The notification system sending out messages about returns is automated.
In fact, you can even access the library with a key card without any staff around.
There are times and days when there isn’t anyone staffing this place at all, but it remains open to the public – even on Sundays!
Obviously I disapprove of the kind of sad cutbacks that have made that necessary, but I also love being here when the staff aren’t.
It’s like being at school after hours without any teachers around.
I check for the thousandth time that the note is secure, now placed firmly in the spine of Chapter Twenty-Two. My favourite chapter. It’s where George and Julianna finally admit they love each other, after weeks of pretending to hate one another’s guts.
I ended up showing what I’d written to Clara, Salma and Harry, who all agreed it was ‘fine’ – Salma’s pronouncement – ‘delightful!’ – Harry’s judgement – and ‘oi, what’s wrong with long-winded voice notes?
’ – Clara. Their only edit was to suggest adding an X at the end.
We debated it. Ohhh how we debated it. It took us hours, with Salma fully pro, and Clara one hundred per cent against. Harry got the deciding vote in the end; shooting terrified glances at my sister, he mumbled that he thought it was sweet and flirty, without being over the top.
Clara isn’t speaking to him and is slamming doors all over the house. All over the twenty-fourth letter of the alphabet.
I return Too Good to Be True in the box, feeling nervous as hell about the person who will find this note.
When we were just joking about The Very Hungry Caterpillar , the stakes felt lower, but what happens if some randomer decides to check it out for the first time now?
The stupid TV series will surely bring in some new fans.
It would be so embarrassing if a confused kid found my attempt at intimacy.
What if my note writer is here right now?
I scan the rows of books, and slowly circle the library.
Passing the children’s section, I feel warmth moving through me.
I spent every Saturday afternoon as a kid sitting on the floor in that very corner.
Mum and Clara would head into Sainsbury’s nearby, leaving me to read in peace.
Nobody else would understand the magic this place holds for me.
It’s so beige and so plain and so without soul – and yet so full of life for me.
The rough, worn carpet is the same one I sat on as a kid.
It used to give me a rash through my school trousers but I never cared.
The walls are the same greying white from my childhood, with one yellow feature wall behind the front desk.
The noticeboard is exactly the same as it’s always been – full of easily ignored scraps of paper.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the notices haven’t changed in twenty years.
Sure, there have been some additions to this place in that time. The group of desks, cordoned off as a work area. The newfangled check in and out machines by the entrance. And of course, a lot of the books have changed.
But enough haven’t that I still get a rush of nostalgia every time I pass the rows of pastel-coloured Marian Keyes.
My pupils still dilate when I clock the Jackie Collins pile, remembering how I gasped at the sex scenes as a teen.
My heart flutters with trepidation when I spot the Stephen King stacks.
This place often feels more like home than my real home.
‘Looking for a new favourite?’ Anita’s voice right behind me takes me by surprise.
She grins, pushing a trolley of books. I spot the newest Lindsey Kelk novel I’ve been dying to read.
Anita’s wearing one of her signature Christmas jumpers; she wears them all year round.
‘I saw you’ve just returned Too Good to Be True – again!
Are you hunting for something else to fill the time until you check it out again? ’
I beam. She knows my routine far too well. ‘Something like that, Anita.’ I can’t tell her I’m actually on the lookout for a person who I’m eighty per cent sure is unlikely to be an eligible man.
I glance around the room again, suddenly feeling so stupid.
Look at the people who come here. It’s mostly elderly people.
Mostly elderly women . There’s no way my note writer is a man – how have I let my housemates talk me into the idea?
How many men read romance novels by female authors?
Very, very few. In fact, most men are horribly sneery about the whole genre.
They think if it’s something written by a woman, by its very nature it must be trivial and shallow.
Because all women’s interests are trivial and shallow, right?
The thing is, Too Good to Be True might be about romance – and yes it might have a good dose of smut running through it – but it’s also about something much bigger.
It’s about life and friendship and making the most of every moment of happiness that comes your way.
Anita regards the stacks before us. ‘Did you know that the ampersand used to be a letter? Until 1835, it was the twenty-seventh letter of the alphabet, after Z.’
‘That is amazing trivia.’ I forget my mission for a moment, agog. ‘Are you on any pub quiz teams? My step-mum Angela is always recruiting.’
She shrugs. ‘Unfortunately, my breadth of knowledge is very limited. Mostly to word and letter facts.’ She perks up. ‘Did you know J, U and W were only added in the sixteenth century?’
‘Wow!’ I say with genuine enthusiasm, and she laughs warmly.
‘There are a few benefits to working in a library,’ she confides, leaning in. ‘One seems to be people constantly telling you fun stuff about words.’ She laughs again. ‘I love it!’
‘Me too!’ I tell her. I take a deep breath, trying to decide how brave I’m capable of being today.
‘Hey, Anita,’ I begin carefully. ‘You know how there’s only one other person who ever takes out Too Good to Be True ?
’ I’ve tried asking her about this before, but this time it’s more than just idle curiosity.
She nods distractedly, checking something on her work iPad.
‘Is it…’ I’m not sure how much to ask. ‘Is it a… man or a woman?’
She glances up curiously. ‘Huh?’
‘I know you probably can’t tell me a name or whatever.
’ I swallow nervously. I don’t want to scare her or make her think I’m a stalker.
‘I was just interested, I guess! Y’know!
Because you know how obsessed I am with the novel and I wondered who it is that’s equally obsessed!
’ I laugh, aiming for breezy and coming out as manic.
‘I know they started taking it out about a year or two ago, but I just wondered…’ I trail off and Anita looks alarmed.
‘You know I can’t tell you about other users of the library, Jemma, it’s a privacy issue.
’ She looks around fearfully, checking for other staff members floating around.
There’s only Mack nearby, still in his chair behind the counter.
He’s checking something on the computer, jabbing angrily at the keyboard and muttering to himself.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble, feeling guilty. ‘I was just… wondering.’
‘I’d better get on,’ Anita says and I pulse with embarrassment. I hate making people uncomfortable. She moves off and then hesitates, turning back and adding in a low voice before hurrying off, ‘Ask Mack.’
Mack? I frown as she bustles away. Why would he help me? He hates me.
But I guess it’s worth asking. Maybe Anita was hinting that he doesn’t give a crap about library members’ privacy?
I watch him for a moment, sitting behind the desk.
He actually looks genuinely upset – more so than usual.
Something on his computer is really getting to him. I approach with trepidation.
‘Er, are you all right?’ I ask carefully and he looks up, surprised and annoyed.
‘No,’ he says shortly and I consider walking away.
‘Anything I can help with?’ I offer as nicely as I can.
‘Help?’ His eyes snap up to mine. ‘No, there’s nothing you can do.
’ He pauses, looking irritated again. ‘Is there something you actually want?’ he asks impatiently.
‘I’m having a really bad day and I have to get back to this, it’s urgent.
’ He waves at the computer and I nod, resisting a strong urge to tell him to fuck off with his oh-so important business.
‘Um, so, er, you know the book I always check out? The novel called Too Good to Be True ?’
He looks shifty. ‘You think I take any notice of your reading choices?’
I frown. ‘Well, no, that’s not what I meant. I just—’
‘What about it? Have you lost it? You better not have!’ He looks genuinely upset. ‘We’ll have to charge you if so.’
‘No, no!’ I protest quickly, appalled at the very idea. ‘I haven’t lost it, the book is fine. I’ve just returned it actually.’
‘Right, and?’ He is distracted by his screen, typing quickly, concern on his face.
‘You’re clearly in the middle of something,’ I say, any hope draining away, as I turn to go.
‘Just say it, whatever it is.’ His voice is a little softer and I turn back to find his full attention on me, his black eyes penetrating and hyper-focused on mine. He adds, ‘What is it you want to know?’
‘There’s only one other person who checks it out,’ I say quickly before I can lose my nerve. ‘ Too Good to Be True , I mean. Can you tell me anything about that person? Anything at all?’
His expression changes, his eyebrows drawing together. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. His eyes dart side to side and I can tell he’s suddenly deeply uncomfortable.
Why?
After another second, Mack turns away, returning his intense gaze back to the computer. ‘I’m not allowed to share details about other members,’ he tells me curtly.
‘Of course,’ I sigh, swallowing my disappointment.
He harumphs. ‘But of course you thought you were above the rules of the library, like you always do. Always bringing your mates in here and using this place like it’s your home office or something.’
‘Oh, get over yourself!’ I snap, starting to walk away. ‘I just wanted a fellow reader’s name for god’s sake! It’s not the crime of the century.’
He snarls to my retreating back, ‘If he wanted you to know his name, he’d tell you.’
I keep going, but I heard it, my whole body flooding with adrenaline.
He said he – his . It’s a he. A him! Something surges through me as I stomp away to the desk area. So it is a man! A man who reads and enjoys romance novels. What if… no. It would be stupid to let myself think…
I pause by the stacks, watching across the room as a handsome guy enters through the automatic entrance doors, heading for the thriller section. Maybe he’s…?
For a moment, I allow myself to drift off into a daydream.
What if this him writes back? What if it is that man over there?
I study him for a moment and decide against adding him to my fantasy.
He’s too good-looking, too muscled. He looks like he spends seven hours a day in the gym.
He’s probably only getting a book out to leave beside the weights, to help him pick up women.
No, my fantasy book boyfriend doesn’t care about looks.
He’s kind and thoughtful. He laughs generously and is sweet and funny.
He loves the same things I do and enjoys early nights with a book.
And he would fancy the absolute pants off me.
He’d look at me under dark eyelashes, watching me with intense longing.
I’ve never really been looked at with longing. Definitely not intense longing.
Horniness, yes, a few times. But I want what the men do in books! I want them to – I dunno – drink me in. I want them to desire me and hold me and kiss me from head to toe. I want to be desperately wanted .
Across the room, Gym Man catches me looking and eyes me critically.
He frowns with apparent contempt as he takes me in head to toe and I scuttle away to my writing desk in the corner.
I need to stop obsessing over this note writer.
He probably won’t even write back, not now I’ve been so full on with my latest message.
I have to think about other things. Like work!
I need to catch up on some transcribing ahead of another meeting with my mountaineer next week. I have to focus.
But how can I, when this feels strangely like the start of something huge?