Page 2 of The Library of Second Chances
‘Clementine, what even are men?’ she asked. A low meow answered her.
She wandered along a shelf of classics. There was nothing like strolling among shelves of books to calm the mind. Her love for literature wasn’t shared by her sister, who had declared, rather too proudly for Chloe’s taste, that she hadn’t read a book since her English LiteratureGCSE. It wasn’t only in their love for books, or lack of, where they differed. Gwen never struggled to find a date. As far as Chloe could tell from her social media, Gwen had been flitting from rich boyfriend to rich boyfriend since she’d moved out at eighteen, travelling to various sunny countries and going on spending sprees at their expense.
Good for her, Chloe supposed. But she didn’t want to think about her sister now. She caught up to the library cat, who looked up at her with his big, amber eyes. With the rain still drumming outside, it somehow felt like there was nobody left in the world except herself and this cute little feline before her.
‘Do you think I’ll ever find a boyfriend, Clem?’
He made a soft purring noise that sounded suspiciously like a ‘no’. Chloe couldn’t help laughing.
She wanted to grab a book, perhaps several, and find an armchair where she could bury her nose in a good story and forget her problems for a while, if only her dress would dry off first. Her house was within walking distance, but the drum of rain on the windows made her want to stay here a bit longer. And why not? Her shift didn’t start until ten o’clock the next morning, and nobody knew she was here. Mrs Cook hadn’t explicitly said shecouldn’tcome here outside her work hours. Chloe would leave everything as she had found it and switch off all the lights before leaving. No one would know, except Clementine.
It was peaceful here, alone with the books and the cat, and Chloe found herself wide awake. The rest of this boring town was asleep or holed up in their pubs. Chloe couldn’t wait to leave Wellbridge. She preferred cities. The noise, the distractions,the new faces every day. Here there wasn’t enough to do, and whenever she wasn’t in another world, either a new place or a new story, her thoughts liked to wander.
As she browsed the shelves of classics, Chloe’s heart ached. These mahogany shelves were home to some of the world’s greatest literary treasures, donated or sold over the decades and generations, all to find a place in this library. Chloe ran a finger along the spines, some bound in leather, others with gold embossing. A few were old and peeling, showing the many hands that had loved and thumbed through them. Dickens, Fitzgerald, Hardy, even a collection of Shakespeare’s plays, thick as a Bible, graced the shelf of classics. Chloe wandered the shelves, scanning the alphabetised authors until her eyes found her favourites: some of J. R. R. Tolkien, Terry Pratchett, collections of C. S. Lewis and a healthy number of Enid Blyton’s old adventure stories. Nostalgia and joy washed through Chloe. So many characters, adventures and lessons were hidden between the pages at her fingertips. How could anyonenotlove books? She felt sorry for people who couldn’t live through fictional characters, joining them in their adventures, their heartaches and triumphs. There was so much to learn and love, even from the simplest of stories.
She stopped at one shelf. Was it her imagination, or was there a faint glow around one of the books? Perhaps the gold lettering caught the light overhead, although it didn’t seem that way.
Curious, she slowly slid it out.
A noise at the end of the shelves made her jump like a child caught with their hand in the biscuit tin. But it was only Clementine, slinking around with his tail in the air. She was so jumpy tonight.
Chloe opened the book, pinching the corner of the page with her fingertips as though afraid rougher handling might damage it. Dad had given her a copy of this classic romanceas acongratulatory present before she went to university. She flicked through the pages, lost in reminiscence. She had read it all in her first semester and eagerly discussed the novel with her parents as they’d carved the Christmas turkey. Gwen, who had actually shown up for Christmas that year, had rolled her eyes and loudly declared the classics were boring, much to Chloe’s chagrin. When Chloe had pointed out that she couldn’t know they were boring if she had never read them, Gwen had just gone back to filing her nails.
Chloe swallowed at the memory. That had been an awkward Christmas. Gwen had left first thing on Boxing Day morning, declaring she had ‘better stuff to do’. Gwen hadn’t come back the year after that. Or the next.
Stop thinking about her, Chloe silently chastised herself. In this edition of the book, the edges were sprayed gold. What an excellent find. Mrs Cook’s diligent cleaning showed here; there wasn’t a speck of dust on the shelves, and this tome was almost like new. Chloe wondered how many people had read this story, had gotten lost in the pages of this charming tale that had kept her enraptured through the toughest of times. She leaned against the opposite shelf, turning to the final page. A happy ending. Enemies to lovers was one of Chloe’s favourite tropes in literature. Funny to think it existed even in the nineteenth century.
‘I bet it was easier to date back then,’ she said to Clementine, who was licking his paws. ‘I should’ve been born in that era, with flowing dresses and gentlemen and horse-drawn carriages.’ She grinned at her own musings. Were men easier to bag back then, or would she still have been hopelessly single even in a dress and corset? She supposed people were married off two hundred years ago, but it was still fun to imagine being swept away by a handsome nobleman.
She read out some of her favourite lines to Clementine, comforted by the words that filled the space around them. To his credit, the cat stuck around, cocking his head as Chloe’s voice echoed around the upper archives.
A shuffle in the next aisle made her head jerk up. Was Mrs Cook here, working late? Had she forgotten something and come to retrieve it? It would be mortifying to be caught like this late at night, her wet hair still clinging to her neck, reading out loud to a cat. Chloe didn’t want to have to explain to her new boss that her first date in ages had been so terrible she had found solace by breaking into her new workplace.
She slowly slid the book back onto its shelf, ignoring the way she thought it glowed. Maybe she could sneak out of here before she was caught. Chloe made her way towards the spiral staircase.
And crashed straight into someone.
CHAPTER TWO
‘SORRY!’SHE GASPEDas she stepped away from the person she had just collided with. He was a young man wearing a regency tailcoat of deep blue, his white collar high and ruffled. Her gaze travelled up to a curious look on the clean-shaven face of a man who held a look haughty enough to rival Clementine’s. She blinked in shock. She could have sworn she was alone up here. She hadn’t heard him climb the stairs.
The newcomer gave a stiff bow. ‘Good evening, madam.’ He did not smile as he stared up and down her sodden clothes, giving Chloe the urge to cover herself.
She took in his polished shoes, his curly dark hair, the slightly arrogant look he gave her as he stood among the library shelves. He looked like he had just stepped out of the nineteenth century.
‘Madam,’ he said, sounding affronted. ‘Whatareyou wearing? And what are you doing in my library?’
Chloe was lost for words, her mind struggling to grasp why he was here. Halloween was in a couple of weeks. Was he wearing a costume, perhaps? If it was, a costume that is, she had to admit he seemed really committed to the part. He had even grown out some sideburns. But what was he doing so late in the library when it was clearly closed? Had she forgotten to lock the front door? She couldn’t remember.
‘Erm,’ was all she could say. ‘Are you all right? Can I help you with something?’ Then his words caught up to her. ‘Wait. What’s wrong with my dress? And what do you mean,yourlibrary?’
‘Perhaps I have had too much to drink. Forgive me. I’m afraid I am rather lost. I am not sure how I got here.’ The man held a certain sadness in his eyes, and for a moment, it was like Chloe could see her grief reflected in them. She quickly shook away the strange thought.
‘Lost?’ she repeated. How lost could you get in a library in the middle of the night?
‘Yes, although, it is refreshingly quiet in here.’ He glanced at her, taking her presence in as much as she had his, his eyes roaming over her damp chestnut hair to her black dress and stockinged feet. ‘I am wondering how to get back. I was at a party, you see. Frightful things, with far too many people I’m forced to entertain. I’m told I have the charm of a shoe.’
Chloe’s senses were catching up with her. She was alone with a stranger in the middle of the night. She took a step back, swallowing, unsure whether to try to point him towards the exit. Clementine saved her from the awkward silence by appearing behind her with a soft purr. The man started slightly, then favoured the feline with a small smile.
