Chapter Thirteen
C HLOE WOKE UP late the next day, her short snippets of sleep plagued by strange dreams of endless, polished corridors and of Clementine, his feline head as big as a horse’s.
She rolled onto her back, looking at the white ceiling where some plastic glow-in-the-dark stars were still stuck from when she was a kid.
Birds chirped and an occasional car passed.
She couldn’t hear any noise in the house, none of Gwen’s music or her moving around in the other rooms. She must still be asleep.
Chloe had managed to live alone for just a few short weeks before her sister had barged back into her life.
She had no doubt Gwen had chosen this place because she knew there was no rent to pay.
She probably assumed Chloe would pay the bills, too.
After all, she had been mooching off people her whole life.
At least Chloe had cleaned the kitchen before going to bed, though she had missed the edges of a counter, the weird food her sister had made now hard and crusting.
Chloe wiped it up then put the kettle on, a dull pounding in her head warning her of a coming migraine.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose, wondering if she should wake Gwen up and try to patch things up before she went to work.
No, she knew from experience that prodding Gwen awake wouldn’t be the prelude to a calm, productive interaction.
As she left the house fifteen minutes before her shift at the library was to begin, Chloe still felt annoyed.
She had wasted the evening arguing with Gwen when her night could have been so much better.
What would be waiting for her at home that evening?
Would half the house be gone, blown up by a plumbing malfunction or something?
‘Cheer up, Chloe! It might never happen!’ called Joe from his front garden.
Chloe forced a laugh and waved to him before she thrust her hands into her pockets as brown leaves blew past her ankles.
It was a dreary, grey day, matching her mood.
Maybe Gwen had packed up her meagre belongings and left in the night, not that she had anywhere to go. Good , she thought . Good riddance.
At that thought, something pricked in her, though. She was glad to enter the doors of the library, and tried to leave her annoyance behind. It had just started to rain, and her hair was beaded with droplets as she slipped inside.
Eric was working today. ‘Hi, Chloe!’ He waved so enthusiastically he almost toppled off his stool. ‘How are you? Would you like some coffee?’
‘I would actually, Eric,’ she said, taking off her jacket. ‘Thanks.’
When Eric had dashed into the kitchen area, Chloe asked Mrs Cook, ‘How is the library so warm? I haven’t seen any radiators.’ No fireplaces, either, though a real functioning one might be risky for the books. ‘I could feel the temperature change when I came in.’
Mrs Cook made a ‘hmm’ sound. ‘I think the library is in a good mood today. Just last night it smelt of cinnamon in here. Cinnamon!’ She chuckled, and Chloe giggled back nervously, unsure whether Mrs Cook was pulling her leg.
Surely the library hadn’t conjured heat and scents on its own.
But hadn’t Chloe smelt something delicious the other day up on the fiction floor?
She had assumed it was a nearby bakery, but maybe not.
And had she not also experienced a strange kind of .
. . well, Chloe didn’t believe in magic. Not until recently, anyway.
‘Is there something you’re thinking about, love?’ Mrs Cook looked amused as she tilted her head, her warm green eyes crinkling. ‘You’ve got a far-off look in your eyes. It’s the look my son has when he’s come up with a new story idea.’
‘Your son is a writer?’ Chloe asked in surprise, snapping out of her strange thoughts.
‘He dabbles, here and there. His stories are quite good, though he’s never tried to publish them.’
Eric came back with coffees for them all, and they sipped companionably until a customer came in, a middle-aged woman who offered them all a slightly surprised smile, maybe astonished to see so many people behind the counter at once.
‘Good morning,’ Mrs Cook greeted her warmly. ‘Are you looking for anything in particular, or are you just browsing?’
‘Hm? Oh, I actually . . .’ The woman blushed furiously. ‘I was just coming in to escape the rain while I waited for the bus, to be honest.’ She looked around. ‘But I’ll definitely have a look around. I’ll just . . .’ She trailed off, then headed in what Chloe was sure was a random direction.
Chloe thought she felt something. Something like a ripple in the air. A sigh, almost.
‘I know, I know,’ said Mrs Cook reassuringly. ‘I can’t wait for this event with the children. It’s going to be so good for us.’
Is she talking to me? wondered Chloe, taking another sip of the coffee Eric had made for her. He hadn’t added enough milk for her liking, but she didn’t mind. Or is she talking to the library?
The visitor quickly left for her bus without borrowing any books.
When she had finished her usual tasks and found herself free, Chloe drifted upstairs to do some dusting.
Just past the spiral staircase, above a shelf of mystery books, she spotted water dripping from the ceiling.
She stepped forward and saw that there was a leak.
‘Mrs Cook!’ she called. ‘There’s a leak in the roof.’
The increasing rain outside meant the dripping was quickly turning into a steady stream.
A few minutes later, Eric stood with his hands on his hips, squinting up at the ceiling.
The rain drummed on the roof and the arched windows, and the water spilled onto a bookcase. ‘That’s unfortunate,’ he remarked.
‘I hadn’t noticed that leak before.’ Mrs Cook looked up. ‘My eyes aren’t very good.’
‘I hadn’t noticed it until now, either,’ Chloe assured her. ‘Maybe it only happened last night.’
‘Eric, could you fetch a bucket from the staff room?’ the librarian asked.
Eric arrived with a steel bucket. He was tall enough to just about reach the top of the bookcase, and he placed it under the leak. Then he let out a disappointed groan. ‘It’s ruined some of the books.’
They rushed over to see. Almost the entire top shelf and most of the second shelf had suffered water damage. Emotion welled up in Chloe’s chest and she sniffled. She knew it was silly to be upset over damaged books, but she couldn’t help feeling that she should have acted sooner.
‘Help me shift the shelf, please, Eric,’ said Mrs Cook.
Even with their combined efforts, the large bookshelf proved too heavy to move on its own, and so they began the painstaking task of removing all the books.
Eric said Mrs Cook should wait in the reception area for customers while they separated the damaged books from the unharmed ones.
Clementine appeared, meowing softly at them and sitting with his tail wrapped around his paws, regarding them with large eyes.
Chloe wanted to cry as she deposited the soggy books into a black bin bag.
There were some wonderful classics here that would never be read again.
It made her think of her own paperback book, the only one she currently owned, ruined with wine.
It wasn’t a good week for books. All the while, the steel bucket plinked with the leak.
It rained hard outside, and soon Eric had to put a mug underneath while he rushed to the bathroom to empty the bucket.
Chloe talked to Eric as they worked, feeling a little silly for getting emotional over a bunch of books. She learned that he loved football, and he read a lot in his spare time. ‘What about you, Chloe?’ he asked. ‘Do you, er, have any pets?’
She wondered if Mrs Cook had filled him in on Chloe losing her parents and that was why he hadn’t asked about her family.
She silently thanked her and said, ‘I wouldn’t mind a cat.
’ Clementine walked by, his tail curling briefly around Eric’s arm as he passed.
‘But I don’t know how long I’m staying here.
It seems pointless to get a pet when I might be moving soon.
’ To where, she still didn’t know. But she had to start making plans.
Sometimes the opportunity to do the things you wanted to do slipped away from you if you didn’t seize the day and make them happen.
Even if a small part of her protested at the thought of leaving the library behind.
‘I hope you don’t go,’ said Eric in a small voice, making Chloe smile.
‘I’ll take over for a bit, if you like, Eric,’ said Mrs Cook, appearing at the top of the stairs. ‘You keep putting books into the system for me. I can’t make sense of that screen.’
Chloe waved goodbye to Eric as Mrs Cook settled at her side. They worked in silence for a few moments.
Before she could think too deeply about it, Chloe said to Mrs Cook, ‘So this library, it’s quite special, isn’t it?’
‘Oh yes, I like to think so.’ Mrs Cook inspected a book, opening it and letting the pages flip between her fingers, checking no water had seeped into them. ‘It’s definitely one of the most beautiful in England.’
‘It is.’ Chloe felt an urge, a pressing nudge, to tell Mrs Cook what she had experienced here. ‘What did you mean when you said the library is happy? That it makes its own scents and heats the room?’
‘Exactly as it sounded,’ said the older woman. ‘This library, Chloe. It’s like you said. It’s special . I knew when I met you that your love for books and reading would make you a good match for this place. And I was right, wasn’t I?’
‘I found something. In a book,’ Chloe blurted.
She felt so alone right now, and she wanted to tell someone.
To have somebody here at the library she could share her secret with.
She had the feeling the librarian wouldn’t laugh at her, even if she didn’t believe what she was about to say.
Chloe turned to face Mrs Cook, shifting on her knees.
‘Not long after I started working here, I picked up a book. It was, um, glowing. I read a line out loud and . . .’ She told Mrs Cook everything, even about the dratted date that had led her to seek refuge in the library late at night; pulling a nineteenth-century nobleman from a book, having a conversation with him, talking about first impressions.
Doing it two more times, both times with a book character she knew and loved, brought to life and sent home when she read out their final line.
The librarian’s expression was unreadable the whole time, and Chloe was worried that she had overstepped, that Mrs Cook would just be left confused or angry.
Then the elderly woman chuckled. She laughed louder, hugging the book she was holding to her chest. Her chortles were full of such delight that Chloe just stared at her.
‘Oh, Chloe, thank goodness. You finally worked it out.’