The Library of Lost and Found. Phaedra Patrick

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СКАЧАТЬ noted that his sentences were as higgledy-piggledy as his bookshop. He started to speak then looked distracted, as if he had to physically search for his next words. ‘Where did your contact get the book from?’ she asked.

      Owen scratched his head, leaving his hair stuck up on top. ‘I’d really have to ask him, or check my notes… I do write these things down… sometimes.’

      Martha waited for him to look around but he didn’t do anything.

      ‘You look a little disappointed… or puzzled.’ he said.

      She twisted her fingers around her wrist, wondering if she should tell him the reason for the book’s importance. ‘The dedication inside is from my grandmother, Zelda,’ she said. ‘But the date she’s written is three years after she died. The stories in the book are also… well, personal.’

      Owen cocked his head to one side. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

      ‘Um…’ Martha said, scolding herself for mentioning the last bit.

      ‘You can tell me anything.’ Owen held up three fingers of his right hand. ‘I’m a bookseller and we have a code of secrecy.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Well, no.’ He grinned. ‘I just wanted to assure you.’

      Martha stared at him, wondering if he was a little crazy or not. But with what she had to say, he might think the same thing about her. After Lilian’s negative reaction to the book, she just wanted someone to listen to her and take this strange situation seriously.

      ‘I used to write stories, when I was younger,’ she admitted. ‘I only shared them with my family, Zelda mainly. And now I’ve found them here, printed in this book. They’re alongside other ones my nana and mum told me.’

      Owen rocked back and forth on his heels for a while. He worked his mouth. ‘I’ve certainly not heard that one before.’

      Martha wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or not. She wished that the ground would swallow her up, or that a bookshelf would fall over and squash her flat.

      Owen picked up the book and leafed through it again. ‘Publishers sometimes print the title of the book on each page… but not in this case. It looks like the book might be self-published, so it will be more difficult to trace… not impossible, though.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’ll get back in touch with Dexter, my contact. I’ll see if he remembers where it came from. He knows people.’

      He sounds like the James Bond of the second-hand book world, connected to a secret underground network, Martha thought.

      ‘I’ll make a note of some of these story titles.’ Owen picked up a pen and took hold of a scrap of paper. ‘Or perhaps I can keep this… for a while?’

      Martha clicked her tongue. She didn’t want to let the book out of her sight.

      ‘I’ll take good care of it.’

      ‘Hmm, well, okay then. But I’d like it back as soon as possible.’

      ‘I promise to call you on Monday.’

      Martha took her purse from her bag. ‘How much do I owe you, for the book and your research?’

      ‘Now put that away, I don’t want any money.’ He raised a palm. ‘Just buy me a coffee sometime.’

      Martha took out a ten-pound note and waved it. ‘Please take this remuneration.’

      He shook his head. ‘Tell you what. I’m just about to close the shop, and there’s a nice café called Love, Peace and Coffee just around the corner. It’s perfect for sitting in the window, reading and eating cake. Why don’t we grab a table, and you can tell me more about these intriguing family stories of yours?’

      Martha felt her cheeks reddening. She hadn’t been invited out for a coffee by anyone for a long time. Plus, something her father used to say, when she was younger, popped into her head. ‘Watch your cake portions, Martha. You’ll always be beautiful to me, but you’re the type to put on weight easily.’

      She paused for what felt like an age, thinking of a reason to give Owen for not joining him. Eventually, she said, ‘Sorry, but I don’t eat cake.’

      ‘Oh.’ He squinted. ‘Perhaps just a coffee, then?’

      Martha started to back up, across the shop towards the door. ‘Not today, thank you. If you find out anything about the book, do let me know.’ She fumbled behind her and opened the door. ‘I’d be most obliged.’

      ‘I’ll need your phone number.’ Owen reached out with one hand, as if trying to catch her coat. ‘Or I can call the library…’

      Martha stood with one foot inside the shop and the other on the pavement outside. She imagined Clive’s smug face, if he took a personal call for her. He’d enjoy berating her.

      She stepped back inside the shop, took a piece of paper from her notepad and quickly wrote down her home number.

      Owen made a great show of folding it neatly and placing it in his jacket pocket. ‘Fantastic,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

CHAPTER SIX

       The Reading Group

      On Monday afternoon, when Martha pushed her trolley towards the library, it felt like it contained bricks rather than bottles of cordial, biscuits, Horatio’s fish food, some of his potted plants and copies of her new book-rating spreadsheet. She wanted to turn it back around, to wheel it home, but she’d offered to host the fortnightly reading group session. Suki was attending a maternity appointment.

      Martha had spent the previous day filled with worry and regret that she’d left the book with Owen to research. Her eyes kept seeking out her phone, to see if he might have found something earlier than expected and left her a message. However, no one called.

      The illustrations and stories in her head were like a film that wouldn’t stop. It was as if the book held a hypnotic power over her. Memories were beginning to trickle back, of her stories and the atmosphere in the Storm household that influenced her to write them.

      Trying to sleep last night had been hopeless. She tossed and turned and, when she was awake, her concentration flitted away from the tasks she’d assigned herself for the day. Will’s trousers remained unfinished and she’d tripped over a box of Branda’s chandeliers. The Chinese dragon’s eyes seemed to follow her around the room.

      She usually hoped that all the reading group members would turn up, but today she wished that no one would. Feeling frazzled, she just wanted to go home and wait for Owen’s call.

      Branda was already waiting outside the library. She waved a violet-taloned hand. ‘Enchanté. What book are we reviewing today?’

      Martha stifled a sigh. The group were supposed to have read Lucinda Lovell’s latest, in preparation for the Valentine’s Day event that didn’t happen. ‘Distant Desire,’ she said, as she unlocked the door. She pushed her trolley СКАЧАТЬ