Page 56 of The Library of Second Chances
She buried her face in her palms, sobbing, her heart in splinters. It was on this very step that she had opened herGCSEresults, Mum and Dad sitting either side of her, congratulating her on getting an A in English. She sniffled, wiping her dripping nose. This wasn’t how she was supposed to feel after such a great date.
Could she possibly stay in Wellbridge, with all the memories here? Running away and staying in the city hadn’t helped much. And what about Gwen? Would she be abandoning her if she moved away? And what about the library? Harry?
Chloe hugged herself, and then texted Hannah, asking for funny pictures and memes to cheer her up. Within minutes, Hannah had sent a picture of her daughter Lily, covered head to toe in bubbles from her bubble bath, only her face visible. Chloe snorted and went to grab a tissue. She felt a bit better after crying. It had been a real ugly cry, too. She hadn’t bothered to be quiet or tried to muffle the noise.
Along with the pain came guilt. Guilt for not spending more time with Mum and Dad. She had been so eager to escape this place, to leave Wellbridge and its memories of Liam and the botched wedding behind and finally go to university, that her contact with her parents hadn’t been much more than the occasional phone call. She had spent so much time running away, but it hadn’t really helped.
She let out a rattling sigh, laying a hand on her chest as Mum and Dad’s smiling faces filled her mind’s eye. Then Gwen’s. If she was going to leave Wellbridge behind again, she would do so with better memories. There was no point in feeling guilty. Mum and Dad had known she had loved them.
Even with this mantra echoing in her head, Chloe went to bed with a heavy heart. She curled up under the blanket and said goodnight to Hannah.
Text me anytime you’re feeling lowmessaged her best friend, perhaps sensing that Chloe was missing her parents.
I’m always here. I love you, Chloe.
Thank you, I love you too she texted back, sniffling. She closed her burning eyes, thinking instead of the fireworksdisplay and her first kiss with Harry. She considered whether to tell Hannah, and couldn’t help smiling to herself, feeling like a teenager and her first kiss. That had been with Liam. How different he had been from Harry.
She had gotten over Liam a long time ago, and wondered how different things would be now if she had married him after all. Maybe she would be Lily’s mum. But would she be happy? She hadn’t felt anything when she’d seen him.
She punched her pillow and snuggled into it, telling herself that now wasn’t the time to dive intothatrabbit hole. Her nose still blocked, Chloe managed to fall asleep, and didn’t hear when Gwen came home later that night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CLEMENTINE WATCHED Astreetlamp flicker outside, dearly hoping that tonight would be uneventful. It had been a busy week, humans walking all over the place, some reaching to pet him, many of them making a terrible mess of the books. He sat in his secret spot on a ceiling beam in the upper archives, his tail swishing this way and that. The streets were empty, and now and then the wind would blow, hooting against the stained glass.
He landed softly on the floorboards and moved in silence through the shelves. Maybe the automatic feeder would have left more food for him. His bell tinkled as he ran down the stairs, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.
The door to the lobby opened on its own as he approached it. Clementine stuck his nose in the air, pleased, and slunk through towards the kitchen.
A thump and a playful giggle from the lower archives stopped Clementine in his tracks.
He examined the dark front lobby, wondering if he had only been hearing the wind. He hesitated, then decided to check anyway. He was the library’s night guardian, after all. When the humans weren’t here, Clementine was in charge.
He trotted past the lobby desk and across where light from the streetlamp outside bled in through the gothic windows, casting its beam on the carpet. He reached the children’s section and looked around. Everything looked normal. The soft play area, the shelves of children’s books, the pictures of human kittens and the sun and animals.
Then Clementine glanced up.
Sitting on the top shelf was a cat.
Not the elegant, tabby female Clementine had met and lost. No, this was a huge cat, long and proportioned like a human, with black fur and wearing a ridiculous hat of red and white stripes. His tail, thick as a human’s arm, swished too as he looked down at Clementine with interest.
Clementine’s orange fur stood on end. He meowed.
The cat swung down to land noisily on the carpet. He had a thin neck with an enormous red bowtie wrapped around it. His face wasn’t really feline, but cartoonish, with a small nose and a wide, smiling mouth.
‘I know it is dark and the humans are gone, but we can play games and have lots of fun!’ sang the Cat.
Yes, I’d rather not, thought Clementine. He turned to walk away, then yelped in horror when the giant Cat snatched him up with two gloved hands.
‘Another cat, hip-hip, hooray! I know lots of good games we can pl—’
Clementine squirmed until he was free, furious. His paws hit the carpet and he ran, streaking past several non-fiction bookcases until he found one with a space. He leaped onto it and lay low, offended. Who did that hideous feline think he was?
Clementine trembled as he listened to crashes and singing all around the library. He caught sight of the Cat running past, giant feet thumping on the carpet. He was balancing books on his arms and strange things were coming out of his hat. An umbrella, a fishbowl, and all manner of items Clementine didn’t know the names of.
No, this thing was not a human and not really a cat, either. Clementine waited until the Cat had gone quiet, perhaps going to explore other parts of the library, then sneaked slowly down from the shelf, keeping as silent as he could. If he moved tooquickly, his treacherous bell jangled, so he walked slowly, ears perked up for sounds of his enemy.
He reached the children’s bookshelf. There it was, near the bottom of a pile of books. A glowing book.
