Chapter Twenty-Four
C LEMENTINE WATCHED A streetlamp flicker outside, dearly hoping that tonight would be uneventful.
It had been a busy week, humans walking all over the place, some reaching to pet him, many of them making a terrible mess of the books.
He sat in his secret spot on a ceiling beam in the upper archives, his tail swishing this way and that.
The streets were empty, and now and then the wind would blow, hooting against the stained glass.
He landed softly on the floorboards and moved in silence through the shelves. Maybe the automatic feeder would have left more food for him. His bell tinkled as he ran down the stairs, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.
The door to the lobby opened on its own as he approached it. Clementine stuck his nose in the air, pleased, and slunk through towards the kitchen.
A thump and a playful giggle from the lower archives stopped Clementine in his tracks.
He examined the dark front lobby, wondering if he had only been hearing the wind. He hesitated, then decided to check anyway. He was the library’s night guardian, after all. When the humans weren’t here, Clementine was in charge.
He trotted past the lobby desk and across where light from the streetlamp outside bled in through the gothic windows, casting its beam on the carpet.
He reached the children’s section and looked around.
Everything looked normal. The soft play area, the shelves of children’s books, the pictures of human kittens and the sun and animals.
Then Clementine glanced up.
Sitting on the top shelf was a cat.
Not the elegant, tabby female Clementine had met and lost. No, this was a huge cat, long and proportioned like a human, with black fur and wearing a ridiculous hat of red and white stripes. His tail, thick as a human’s arm, swished too as he looked down at Clementine with interest.
Clementine’s orange fur stood on end. He meowed.
The cat swung down to land noisily on the carpet. He had a thin neck with an enormous red bowtie wrapped around it. His face wasn’t really feline, but cartoonish, with a small nose and a wide, smiling mouth.
‘I know it is dark and the humans are gone, but we can play games and have lots of fun!’ sang the Cat.
Yes, I’d rather not , thought Clementine. He turned to walk away, then yelped in horror when the giant Cat snatched him up with two gloved hands.
‘Another cat, hip-hip, hooray! I know lots of good games we can pl—’
Clementine squirmed until he was free, furious. His paws hit the carpet and he ran, streaking past several non-fiction bookcases until he found one with a space. He leaped onto it and lay low, offended. Who did that hideous feline think he was?
Clementine trembled as he listened to crashes and singing all around the library.
He caught sight of the Cat running past, giant feet thumping on the carpet.
He was balancing books on his arms and strange things were coming out of his hat.
An umbrella, a fishbowl, and all manner of items Clementine didn’t know the names of.
No, this thing was not a human and not really a cat, either.
Clementine waited until the Cat had gone quiet, perhaps going to explore other parts of the library, then sneaked slowly down from the shelf, keeping as silent as he could.
If he moved too quickly, his treacherous bell jangled, so he walked slowly, ears perked up for sounds of his enemy.
He reached the children’s bookshelf. There it was, near the bottom of a pile of books. A glowing book.
Clementine tried to get it out, but it was weighed down by more books. A shriek of delight and a great crash sounded from the lobby. He didn’t have much time.
Clementine pulled off each book with his paws, sliding them along until they fell. They lay scattered around the play area, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now.
‘Little cat, where are you? Orange ball of fun! Big Cat wants to play, so don’t hide or run!’
Clementine yanked out a book that had a cartoon picture of the exact character terrorising the library. Clementine kicked it open. He had watched Chloe do this. Didn’t she go to the back of the book?
He flipped through, looking at the pictures as he batted at each page to turn them. The Cat made a terrific mess in this story, too, though it looked like he cleaned up after himself in the end.
Clementine realised with dismay he couldn’t send the Cat back to where he had come from. Clementine couldn’t read. How had the tabby cat sent herself back?
He sat on his haunches, tired from all the batting and pulling, and frustrated with this furry nuisance.
The Cat could not be here when Mrs Cook arrived tomorrow.
The librarian was small and old, and might not be able to avoid the hideous creature long enough to read the character’s last line and make the magic work.
He glanced around the library. It was always quiet at night. Clementine let out a soft ‘meow’. The library didn’t respond.
He understood now. It was up to him to make things right and defend his home.
Clementine’s claws came out, just for a moment. The other cat may be bigger and stronger, but no one had the cunning and stealth skills of Clementine.
He trotted back to the archway that separated the children’s and non-fiction from the lobby. The big Cat had found the light switch, and the lobby was now flooded with light, stark and bright. The Cat was flying a kite, somehow without any wind, laughing.
‘Oh, this library is fun, this library is cool, I’ll invite my friends, they’ll love it, too!’
Not your friends , thought Clementine with a groan. His time was running out. Papers had fallen from the shelves, pens and other bits of stationery all over the carpet. The shelf behind the lobby desk was a fright, files and papers scattered all over the floor and desk.
Clementine ran to get the book, clamping it in his jaws. This was the only thing that might work.
He meowed as loud as he could, the book still in his mouth. He dropped it onto the floor as the huge Cat came over. Clementine trembled, but he refused to move.
‘A book! Oh, look! What a handsome Cat,’ said the Cat, snatching it up. ‘And he looks just like me, fancy that, fancy that.’
Clementine was getting tired of the silly rhyming, but he walked over to the Cat, meowing his encouragement.
As he hoped, the giant Cat read aloud the story, taking pleasure in his own mischievous tale. All the while, Clementine looked around.
‘Oh, look, see here, it’s all about me! Why, I’m as handsome as handsome can be.’ The Cat looked pleased. ‘That’s right, I clean up after myself. I’ll dust and tidy all the floors and the shelf!’
Clementine took refuge on the shelf behind the lobby desk, watching as the Cat reappeared with a strange machine that cleaned up the mess he had made.
Soon the books and papers were back in their places, the computer back on the desk and shining, good as new, and the Cat leaped off it, giving a grin that looked almost feline. But not quite.
Clementine rested his head on his paws. At least the nuisance had cleaned up after himself.
‘Now, let’s finish this book, it is quite a read. How thrilling I could come here in your hour of need!’
Hour of need? Clementine stood on his four paws, highly offended. But the Cat continued reading his story aloud, and then finally, he reached his own last line.
‘Oh!’ he said in shock as he faded. ‘Oh my.’
Then he was gone.
Clementine leaped down from the shelf, looking around. He picked up the book, no longer glowing, in his mouth and carried it back to the children’s section.
What a frightful evening, he thought as he tried to slide it back onto the shelf. He didn’t do a very good job, but he hoped the humans wouldn’t mind too much. Then, exhausted, he collapsed where he was and slept until the rising sun warmed his fur.
Chloe didn’t remember falling asleep, but suddenly her alarm was going off and she woke up half off the bed, drool on her pillow.
Today was Thursday, and Chloe listened out for sounds of Gwen as she readied for work.
She didn’t hear her downstairs, but she thought she could hear a low voice talking when she walked past Gwen’s door.
‘Oh,’ she murmured, realising her sister might not be alone. She hurried and finished getting ready, eating the last of one of Hannah’s delicious nut-free croissants before exiting into the icy autumn air.
She found Clementine in the lobby, lethargic with his tail swishing. ‘Are you all right, Clem?’ she asked, hurrying to him. He let her pick him up, and purred as she held him close. Chloe felt alarmed. He wasn’t sick, was he?
But Clem perked up at her presence, licking her arm as she petted him between his soft ears. He didn’t look sick, just tired. ‘Busy night?’ she asked softly, and Clementine gave a soft meow.
They had a few customers today, news of the successful school event travelling around fast. Hannah had left a pile of business cards for the Brew House on the lobby desk, and Chloe made sure everyone who came to visit the library got one.
Chloe kept busy, chatting with the friendlier visitors, recommending books, and even making two new library cards and registering their membership.
‘Lots of companies prefer to start using apps now, don’t they?
’ said a middle-aged woman as Chloe inputted her details into the computer.
‘I prefer physical cards. I kind of miss them taking up space in my purse. And what if your phone runs out of battery and you can’t use the app?
Then you’d be stuck, wouldn’t you?’ She held up the copy of the historical romance set in Scotland that had glowed all those weeks ago.
Chloe had inspected it thoroughly before letting the visitor check it out, ensuring that there was no burning hue illuminating the pages.
‘That’s why I prefer physical books, and cards, too,’ said the woman.
‘You don’t have to worry about batteries and chargers for those. ’
Chloe nodded politely, letting the woman chatter. She smiled broadly when she accepted the little purple library card with her name printed on it.
‘That’s lovely,’ she said, bringing out her purse. ‘Thank you, duck.’
It had been raining heavily that morning, and Chloe had driven to work.
Now it was the end of her shift and the rain had stopped, the ground dark and damp, a taste of rain still in the air.
Chloe played music, the window down, enjoying the cold breeze.
As she waited in traffic, she glanced over a stone wall to the graveyard.
She still hadn’t visited Mum and Dad’s graves since she’d been here.
She could tell herself she had been busy, that she was waiting to go with Gwen, but the truth was she was nervous.
Scared, even. The funeral was a sad blur, and being in their house was difficult enough, let alone visiting their resting places.
She had only just started to accept the memories the house conjured.
Seeing their gravestones would be like peeling back the layers of clumsy healing on a wound and letting it bleed again.
She was about to turn from the window to change the song when she spotted a man walking along the graveyard, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
She would recognise him anywhere. It was Harry.
He hadn’t noticed her in the line of afternoon traffic.
He walked with his usual confident stride, though there was something slumped in his posture.
Chloe could spot the flowers in his bouquet: pink chrysanthemums and lavender freesias.
Chloe squinted, sure she could also see several daisies in the wrapped paper.
Daisies in a bouquet? she thought with curiosity. He must be visiting his wife Julie’s grave. She felt a prickle of worry. Was he regretting their date at the fireworks display? Did he feel bad about their kiss?
A sudden loud honk behind her made her jump nearly out of her skin. The car behind had beeped. She hadn’t realised the traffic in front had moved on.
She quickly waved an apology and sped off down the road, hoping the noise hadn’t drawn Harry’s attention.