Page 29 of The Library of Second Chances
She let out a cry as Gwen gasped, snatching up her glass as Chloe dived for the soaked paperback. Dark red stained most of the front cover, seeping into the pages. She held it up, wine dripping onto the table.
‘I’m sorry, Chloe. My hand – the wine,’ Gwen babbled.
Chloe grimaced, holding the book between her forefinger and thumb as she half-ran to the kitchen for paper towels. ‘Why would I want to talk to you about anyone I might be interested in?’ she snarled over her shoulder. ‘After last time?’
Gwen made a noise like an angry cat, and a bang from the living room sounded like she had thrown the remote control at the wall. Chloe cleaned up the book as best she could, but the damage was done; the wine had soaked into most of the pages, covering over half of it in a red stain that smelt strongly of berries.
Gwen must have stormed out of the house because she wasn’t anywhere when Chloe went back into the living room. Sighing, she gathered the half-eaten mush and the wine glasses. As she grabbed a bin bag for the food waste, Chloe wondered if Gwen really had done all this to be spiteful, or if it was just a clumsy, failed attempt at peace. At an apology.
As Chloe cleaned the kitchen, marvelling at how a stew could have taken so many pots and pans, anger gave way to a prodding sense of guilt. It had been cruel for Chloe to mock her cooking, and to bring up something that had happened so many years ago. Even if it still hurt. Even if Gwen still hadn’t said she was sorry.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHLOE WOKE UPlate the next day, her short snippets of sleep plagued by strange dreams of endless, polished corridors and of Clementine, his feline head as big as a horse’s. She rolled onto her back, looking at the white ceiling where some plastic glow-in-the-dark stars were still stuck from when she was a kid. Birds chirped and an occasional car passed.
She couldn’t hear any noise in the house, none of Gwen’s music or her moving around in the other rooms. She must still be asleep.
Chloe had managed to live alone for just a few short weeks before her sister had barged back into her life. She had no doubt Gwen had chosen this place because she knew there was no rent to pay. She probably assumed Chloe would pay the bills, too. After all, she had been mooching off people her whole life.
At least Chloe had cleaned the kitchen before going to bed, though she had missed the edges of a counter, the weird food her sister had made now hard and crusting. Chloe wiped it up then put the kettle on, a dull pounding in her head warning her of a coming migraine. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, wondering if she should wake Gwen up and try to patch things up before she went to work.
No, she knew from experience that prodding Gwen awake wouldn’t be the prelude to a calm, productive interaction.
As she left the house fifteen minutes before her shift at the library was to begin, Chloe still felt annoyed. She had wasted the evening arguing with Gwen when her night could have beenso much better. What would be waiting for her at home that evening? Would half the house be gone, blown up by a plumbing malfunction or something?
‘Cheer up, Chloe! It might never happen!’ called Joe from his front garden.
Chloe forced a laugh and waved to him before she thrust her hands into her pockets as brown leaves blew past her ankles. It was a dreary, grey day, matching her mood. Maybe Gwen had packed up her meagre belongings and left in the night, not that she had anywhere to go.Good, she thought. Good riddance.
At that thought, something pricked in her, though. She was glad to enter the doors of the library, and tried to leave her annoyance behind. It had just started to rain, and her hair was beaded with droplets as she slipped inside.
Eric was working today. ‘Hi, Chloe!’ He waved so enthusiastically he almost toppled off his stool. ‘How are you? Would you like some coffee?’
‘I would actually, Eric,’ she said, taking off her jacket. ‘Thanks.’
When Eric had dashed into the kitchen area, Chloe asked Mrs Cook, ‘How is the library so warm? I haven’t seen any radiators.’ No fireplaces, either, though a real functioning one might be risky for the books. ‘I could feel the temperature change when I came in.’
Mrs Cook made a ‘hmm’ sound. ‘I think the library is in a good mood today. Just last night it smelt of cinnamon in here. Cinnamon!’ She chuckled, and Chloe giggled back nervously, unsure whether Mrs Cook was pulling her leg. Surely the library hadn’t conjured heat and scents on its own. But hadn’t Chloe smelt something delicious the other day up on the fiction floor? She had assumed it was a nearby bakery, but maybe not. And had she not also experienced a strange kind of . . . well, Chloe didn’t believe in magic. Not until recently, anyway.
‘Is there something you’re thinking about, love?’ Mrs Cook looked amused as she tilted her head, her warm green eyes crinkling. ‘You’ve got a far-off look in your eyes. It’s the look my son has when he’s come up with a new story idea.’
‘Your son is a writer?’ Chloe asked in surprise, snapping out of her strange thoughts.
‘He dabbles, here and there. His stories are quite good, though he’s never tried to publish them.’
Eric came back with coffees for them all, and they sipped companionably until a customer came in, a middle-aged woman who offered them all a slightly surprised smile, maybe astonished to see so many people behind the counter at once.
‘Good morning,’ Mrs Cook greeted her warmly. ‘Are you looking for anything in particular, or are you just browsing?’
‘Hm? Oh, I actually . . .’ The woman blushed furiously. ‘I was just coming in to escape the rain while I waited for the bus, to be honest.’ She looked around. ‘But I’ll definitely have a look around. I’ll just . . .’ She trailed off, then headed in what Chloe was sure was a random direction.
Chloe thought she felt something. Something like a ripple in the air. A sigh, almost.
‘I know, I know,’ said Mrs Cook reassuringly. ‘I can’t wait for this event with the children. It’s going to be so good for us.’
Is she talking to me?wondered Chloe, taking another sip of the coffee Eric had made for her. He hadn’t added enough milk for her liking, but she didn’t mind.Or is she talking to the library?
The visitor quickly left for her bus without borrowing any books. When she had finished her usual tasks and found herself free, Chloe drifted upstairs to do some dusting. Just past the spiral staircase, above a shelf of mystery books, she spotted water dripping from the ceiling. She stepped forward and saw that there was a leak.
