The Library of Lost and Found. Phaedra Patrick

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СКАЧАТЬ EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

       CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

       CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

       CHAPTER THIRTY

       CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

       CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

       CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

       CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

       CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

       CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

       CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

       CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

       Acknowledgements

       Reading group questions for THE LIBRARY OF LOST AND FOUND

       Extract

       About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

       Valentine’s Day

      As always, Martha Storm was primed for action. Chin jutted, teeth gritted and a firm grip on the handle of her trusty shopping trolley. Her shoulders burned as she struggled to push it up the steep slope towards the library. The cobblestones underfoot were slippery, coated by the sea mist that wafted into Sandshift each evening.

      She was well prepared for the evening’s event. It was going to be perfect, even though she usually avoided Valentine’s Day. Wasn’t it a silly celebration? A gimmick, to persuade you to buy stuffed furry animals and chocolates at rip-off prices. Why, if someone ever sent her a card, she’d hand it back and explain to the giver that they’d been brainwashed. However, a job worth doing was worth doing well.

      Bottles chinked in her trolley, a stuffed black bin bag rustled in the breeze and a book fell off a pile, its pages fluttering like a moth caught in a spider’s web.

      She’d bought the supermarket’s finest rosé wine, flute glasses and napkins printed with tiny red roses. Her alarm clock had sounded at 5.30 that morning, to allow her time to bake heart-shaped cookies, including gluten-free ones for any book lovers who had a wheat allergy. She’d brought along extra copies of the novel for the author to sign.

      One of the best feelings in the world came when she received a smile of appreciation, or a few grateful words. When someone said, ‘Great job, Martha,’ and she felt like she was basking in sunshine. She’d go to most lengths to achieve that praise.

      If anyone asked about her job she had an explanation ready. ‘I’m a guardian of books,’ she said. ‘A volunteer at the library.’ She was an event organizer, tour guide, buyer, filer, job adviser, talking clock, housekeeper, walking encyclopedia, stationery provider, recommender of somewhere nice to eat lunch and a shoulder to cry on – all rolled into one.

      And she loved each part, except for waking people up at closing time, and the strange things she found used as bookmarks (a nail file, a sexual health clinic appointment card and an old rasher of bacon).

      As she rattled past a group of men, all wearing navy and yellow Sandshift United football scarves, Martha called out to them. ‘Don’t forget about the library event tonight.’ But they laughed among themselves and walked on.

      As she eventually directed the trolley towards the small squat library building, Martha spied the bulky silhouette of a man huddled by the front door. ‘Hello there,’ she called out, twisting her wrist to glance at her watch. ‘You’re fifty-four minutes early.’

      The dark shape turned its head and seemed to look at her, before hurrying away and disappearing around the corner.

      Martha trundled along the path. A poster flapped on the door and author Lucinda Lovell beamed out from a heavily filtered photo. The word Cancelled was written across her face in thick black letters.

      Martha’s eyes widened in disbelief. Her stomach lurched, as if someone had shoved her on an escalator. Using her hand as a visor she peered into the building.

      All was still, all was dark. No one was inside.

      With trembling fingers, she reached out to touch the word that ruined all her planning and organizing efforts of the last couple of weeks. Cancelled. The word that no one had bothered to tell her.

      She swallowed hard and her organized brain ticked as she wondered who to call. The area library manager, Clive Folds, was taking his wife to the Lobster Pot bistro for a Valentine’s dinner. He was the one who’d set up Lucinda’s appearance, with her publisher. Pregnant library assistant, Suki McDonald, was cooking a cheese an onion pie for her boyfriend, Ben, to persuade him to give things another try between them.

      Everything had been left for Martha to sort out.

      Again.

      ‘You live on your own, so you have more time,’ Clive had told her, when he’d asked her to take charge of the event preparations. ‘You don’t have personal commitments.’

      Martha’s chest tightened as she remembered his words, and she let her arms fall heavily to her sides. Turning back around, she took a deep breath and forced herself to straighten СКАЧАТЬ