Page 58 of The Library of Second Chances
But Clem perked up at her presence, licking her arm as she petted him between his soft ears. He didn’t look sick, just tired. ‘Busy night?’ she asked softly, and Clementine gave a soft meow.
They had a few customers today, news of the successful school event travelling around fast. Hannah had left a pile of business cards for the Brew House on the lobby desk, and Chloe made sure everyone who came to visit the library got one. Chloe kept busy, chatting with the friendlier visitors, recommending books, and even making two new library cards and registering their membership.
‘Lots of companies prefer to start using apps now, don’t they?’ said a middle-aged woman as Chloe inputted her details into the computer. ‘I prefer physical cards. I kind of miss them taking up space in my purse. And what if your phone runs out of battery and you can’t use the app? Then you’d be stuck, wouldn’t you?’ She held up the copy of the historical romance set in Scotland that had glowed all those weeks ago. Chloe had inspected it thoroughly before letting the visitor check it out, ensuring that there was no burning hue illuminating the pages. ‘That’s why I prefer physical books, and cards, too,’ said the woman. ‘You don’t have to worry about batteries and chargers for those.’
Chloe nodded politely, letting the woman chatter. She smiled broadly when she accepted the little purple library card with her name printed on it.
‘That’s lovely,’ she said, bringing out her purse. ‘Thank you, duck.’
It had been raining heavily that morning, and Chloe had driven to work. Now it was the end of her shift and the rainhad stopped, the ground dark and damp, a taste of rain still in the air. Chloe played music, the window down, enjoying the cold breeze. As she waited in traffic, she glanced over a stone wall to the graveyard.
She still hadn’t visited Mum and Dad’s graves since she’d been here. She could tell herself she had been busy, that she was waiting to go with Gwen, but the truth was she was nervous. Scared, even. The funeral was a sad blur, and being in their house was difficult enough, let alone visiting their resting places. She had only just started to accept the memories the house conjured. Seeing their gravestones would be like peeling back the layers of clumsy healing on a wound and letting it bleed again.
She was about to turn from the window to change the song when she spotted a man walking along the graveyard, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
She would recognise him anywhere. It was Harry.
He hadn’t noticed her in the line of afternoon traffic. He walked with his usual confident stride, though there was something slumped in his posture. Chloe could spot the flowers in his bouquet: pink chrysanthemums and lavender freesias. Chloe squinted, sure she could also see several daisies in the wrapped paper.
Daisies in a bouquet?she thought with curiosity. He must be visiting his wife Julie’s grave. She felt a prickle of worry. Was he regretting their date at the fireworks display? Did he feel bad about their kiss?
A sudden loud honk behind her made her jump nearly out of her skin. The car behind had beeped. She hadn’t realised the traffic in front had moved on.
She quickly waved an apology and sped off down the road, hoping the noise hadn’t drawn Harry’s attention.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE NEXT MORNING,a man Chloe didn’t know came into the library. He looked around the lobby at the rafters above, the medieval arched windows, the rows and rows of bookshelves, his thick eyebrows raised. Chloe watched from the corner of her eye, recalling her own first time entering the library. Her reaction had been much the same.
‘Hello,’ she said warmly when the man had had his fill of staring around the lobby area. He looked at her, not smiling back. There was something about the firm, hard line of his mouth and the coldness in his eyes that made her uneasy.
‘Hi.’ He strode towards her. Chloe was aware of the desk between them, but his approach still made her nervous. Perhaps noticing this, the man stopped, loitering in place and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Um, can I ask you something? Were you at the fireworks display the other night?’
Chloe didn’t see the point in lying. ‘Um. Yes.’
‘And that was Harry Ashcroft you were with, right? At Thornbridge Hall?’
Chloe relaxed a little. Obviously, the man knew Harry. ‘Yes,’ she said, carefully now. ‘Sorry, who are you?’
‘I’m someone who knows him.’ The man fidgeted, looking sulky as he thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Look, it’s best you stay away from him, all right?’
‘What?’ she said in surprise. ‘From Harry? Why?’
‘He’s bad news,’ the man grumbled. ‘He’s trouble. Stay away from him if you know what’s good for you.’
Curiosity and a hint of indignation ran through her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just trust me.’
‘I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you.’ Chloe was becoming truly annoyed now, and she crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Stop being cryptic. You came to my workplace for this?’
‘Yeah, I heard you talking about the library at the event. I’m not a stalker or anything,’ he added.
Chloe wished Mrs Cook or Eric would show up, but they were busy with other customers in the library. This man was making her feel more and more uncomfortable.
He must have seen it on her face, because the stranger headed towards the exit. ‘I’m leaving.’ When his hand was on the door, he said over his shoulder, ‘Just ask Harry whose fault it is that his wife died.’
The door closed with a dull thud behind him, leaving Chloe alone and confused.
