The Library of Lost and Found. Phaedra Patrick
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could get home to check for messages on her answer machine. ‘We’ve all been reading Distant Desire, so who wants to kick-start our conversation? You’ll find new sheets in front of you, to help organize your thoughts.’
Branda unzipped her handbag and took out a pair of oversized round sunglasses. She set them on top of her bluey-black hair. ‘I hoped to see Lucinda at the event. She’s awfully filtered in her photo and I wanted a closer look, you know… to see if she’s had anything done to her face.’
‘Oh yes.’ Nora circled a finger around her own forehead and mimed an injection. ‘It was a shame she had to cancel.’
‘I’ve been reading a book about a prison officer,’ Horatio said. ‘Very insightful. One of the inmates was a murderer but cared for a goldfish in the prison.’
Martha was surprised to find that her usual patience was evading her. The group members often got sidetracked with their conversations and she could handle it, but today it needled her. ‘That’s lovely about the fish,’ she said, shortly. ‘Now, let’s get back to Distant Desire. I have some discussion questions.’
Horatio, Branda and Nora didn’t look remotely interested. Siegfried played with a piece of loose wool on his hat and Martha felt her neck flushing from frustration. ‘Or, perhaps you’d like to read a passage from the book, Branda?’
Branda used her hand as a shield and whispered into Nora’s ear. Nora gasped in reply.
Martha stared at the two women and wondered if she had actually turned invisible. If she pulled a silly face, or did a waltz, would anyone even notice?
She stood for a few moments and looked down at Distant Desire, but instead she pictured Zelda’s book and the blackbird illustration. She shook her head and the image vanished. The sound of Branda and Nora talking persisted as a loud buzz. ‘Siegfried,’ she tried. ‘Perhaps you’d like to read for us?’
Siegfried’s eyes shifted to the right, as if checking that the front doors were still open.
Horatio held up his palms. ‘I didn’t read the book,’ he said. ‘Too busy cleaning out the aquarium.’
Martha felt her temples begin to throb. She wrapped her fingers tightly around Lucinda’s book. When anyone in the group wanted her to do things, she did them. It would be nice if they returned her favours, occasionally.
She didn’t want to read aloud, not having done it since Will and Rose were small. Being a focus of any attention made her cheeks go blotchy. ‘Anyone?’ she asked again, to blank faces.
Trying to fight off feelings of resentment, she opened the book. She ran her finger down the page but her eyes were sore and wouldn’t focus properly. She hastily selected a paragraph, any passage, to win back their attention, and began to read. ‘She reared up in front of him,’ she started.
Nora and Branda stopped talking.
Martha took a breath. At last, this seemed to be working. Everyone was looking at her. ‘She reared up in front of him. Her breath was heavy, like a cheetah who’d run across a semi-arid desert. She was tall, and her red silk dress clung to her body emphasizing the swell of her… um…’
Her eyes widened as she read the next words to herself, and then out loud. She didn’t recall them being this passionate. ‘Of her, um, large, heaving… Apologies, that part doesn’t seem very, um, suitable. ’ She coughed and tried to find another section to read instead.
Branda tittered. Nora followed suit with hiccuping giggles. Siegfried flicked his eyes towards the sci-fi shelves and Horatio grinned. ‘Carry on,’ he said.
Martha’s cheeks began to burn. If she touched them with a wet finger they might hiss. A pain travelled up her windpipe and stuck in her throat like a swallowed sweet. Stop it, she wanted to say. Stop laughing at me.
The library doors opened and she was glad of the interruption, until she saw Clive strolling inside. He folded his arms and leaned casually with one shoulder against a wall. He wore a brown baggy suit that was too big for him, and his lemonyellow shirt puckered across his chest. He had a surprisingly small head for his body, and orange freckles pocked his bald head so it resembled a quail’s egg. Watching intently, he smiled at the group. ‘It looks like we’re all having fun.’ He smirked. ‘Are you okay, Martha? Your face is rather colourful.’
She looked away from him. ‘Yes, of course.’
The laughter in the room bounced around in her head. She quickly reached out for a biscuit and took a bite. She munched and the crumbs swelled in her mouth. The more she tried to swallow, the more she struggled. She glanced around for a glass of water but she’d forgotten to set them out.
The other group members looked at her as she gasped for air. ‘You should have a drink,’ Branda said, without moving.
Siegfried stood up.
Martha raised her hand, telling him she was okay. She speed-walked into the small, dark kitchen. Spinning on the tap, she filled a glass with water and gulped it down. With her head hanging over the sink, she pinched the top of her nose and took deep breaths. The chattering and laughter in the library carried on as she stood alone.
After a few moments, she sensed that someone else had joined her and she turned to see Clive. He loomed in the doorway, standing there like her father used to do, making his presence felt. ‘Do you need anything?’ he asked silkily.
‘No, thank you. I’m fine now.’ Martha cleared her throat.
‘Good. I wanted to speak to you alone, anyway,’ he said.
‘Is it about Lucinda?’
Clive scratched his neck. ‘No. What about her?’
‘I didn’t know she’d cancelled. I brought a trolley full of things. I spent a lot of time—’
‘Of course, you knew,’ he snapped. ‘I told everyone.’
Martha shrank like a salted slug. ‘Not me.’
‘You probably forgot or didn’t pick up my message.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Anyway, I heard that you requested an application form, for the full-time position.’
‘Um, yes.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Clive said. He folded his arms. ‘I’ve had a lot of interest in the role. Several young people with good experience, in fact.’
Martha felt her insides sliding. ‘That must be very encouraging for you.’
‘Yes. I just didn’t want you to be, um… disappointed.’
Martha thought of the application form in her desk drawer. She hadn’t even completed one word and Clive was already priming her for rejection. She opened her mouth to tell him how much she wanted the job, what she could bring to it and how she was probably just as qualified as anyone else, but his lips were set in a fine line.
As he obstructed her way out of the kitchen, Martha had a flash of memory. Her father embraced her mother, tipped her back and kissed her, then held up a book. Martha and her mother had read it together, but she never saw it again after that day. Beauty and the Beast.
She hadn’t thought of it for a long time and, for some reason, the memory unnerved her. The picture stuck there, like it had been pasted in her brain.
Glancing around, the kitchen walls seemed to contract, closing in on her. Her head began to feel light and she took a tentative step forward, indicating that she wanted to leave. ‘Sorry, I need to…’
But Clive remained there, solid and imposing. Although he was just a man, he seemed like a brick wall.
Martha bent her head, and her heart pounded. She desperately wanted to get out of this confined space. Screwing her eyes shut, she stepped forward. The door was out of reach, behind Clive’s back, but she headed for it anyway. She felt her arm brush against the sleeve of his jacket and heard