Page 8 of The Library of Second Chances
‘I can’t wait.’
Chloe wasn’t staying in Wellbridge for very long, a couple of months at the most, but there was no harm in catching up with her childhood friend. Her steps had a spring in them as she headed for the library. She admittedly hadn’t spared much thought for the people she had gone to school with; it all felt like such a long time ago. She had assumed they had moved on and moved to different cities, like she had. Not everybody, though. She would have to message Hannah when she got the chance.
She shouldered the library door open five minutes later, her hands full. Eric, a young A-Level student who worked there part-time, hurried to open it the rest of the way for her.
‘There you go, Chloe,’ he said eagerly.
‘Thanks, Eric.’ Chloe was a bit breathless, holding the bag of pastries in one hand and the coffees in the other. She planned to drink hers in the break room; she wouldn’t dare risk damaging the books with a clumsily handled beverage.
‘No problem.’ Eric returned her smile with a friendly one of his own. He was a skinny boy, and his big brown eyes and floppy hair reminded Chloe of an excitable puppy. Sometimes she forgot he was already eighteen.
There were still a few minutes left before her shift began, so Chloe sipped her caramel latte in the break room. Hannah had been right to recommend it; it was terrific. Clementine the cat was there, staring at her as though she had let slip a terrible swear word. She didn’t know if he was really regarding her with disdain or if he had resting-grumpy-face syndrome.
‘I’m allowed to drink coffee in here. Good morning to you too, fluffy.’ Chloe made to pet the cat, but he slinked past her and into the reception area with a haughty flick of his tail. A bad mood today, then. Chloe chuckled at the cat’s indecisiveness. He certainly hadn’t minded her touching him when she’d saved him from the cardboard box.
When the clock struck ten, Chloe got started with her tasks for the day. Mrs Cook had arrived and was looking at her computer, an exasperated expression on her face.
‘Look at this silly contraption,’ she said. ‘Do you young ones know how to use this?’
‘It’s a computer, Mrs Cook,’ piped up Eric.
‘I know what it is, love. I just don’t know how to use it. I thought it would make it easier to store library records, but I just don’t know where to begin. Chloe, dear, could you . . .?’
Chloe and Eric got together in front of the screen. ‘I suppose it will be easier in the long run to have all the records together,’ she called after the elderly woman, who was carrying some books to the non-fiction section on the ground floor. ‘It just might take some time to archive everything.’
‘How long? I might be dead before I understand how it all works,’ she called over her shoulder, and chuckled.
Chloe swallowed, not laughing.
‘I think she means to get the books into a database so it’s easier to search for them in the future,’ said Eric. ‘Then when customers ask, we don’t have to check the big paper files back there, like we usually do.’ He jerked his head towards the filing cabinets that lived behind the reception desk. ‘We might have to start inputting them manually.’
‘Why not just copy from the files?’ Chloe jerked her head towards the disorganised piles of files on the back shelf.
‘They’re older than I am, and probably haven’t been updated in a while.’ Eric winced. ‘We’ll have to do it book by book, so the records are up to date.’
‘That sounds fun,’ said Chloe blandly, and Eric gave a high-pitched laugh.
‘We can take turns,’ he said.
It would be a long job but would definitely be easier in the long run. Besides, busy days meant quicker shifts and a hectic mind.
They started with non-fiction, Eric typing up the name, author, year of publication and other information that might help them locate the book in the future. The program he was using sorted the authors into alphabetical order automatically, which was helpful. After twenty minutes they switched places, Chloe typing up the information on the keyboard while Eric fetched piles of books from the shelves, returning them when she was done.
Chloe couldn’t help noticing that Eric tried to carry far many more books than he could handle, often red-faced and panting by the time he placed them on the desk beside her. At one point, he carried so many he couldn’t see where he was going, and she heard a mighty crash and the thunderous cascade of books thudding on the carpet, followed by a whispered curse. She tried to rearrange her face into what she hoped was neutral obliviousness by the time Eric came back with more books, his cheeks maroon.
When it was Chloe’s turn to get books, she made her way through the empty children’s area in the ground floor’s west wing. She turned a corner then stopped, spotting a man in an armchair in the corner, an open book in his lap. His fair hair shone almost gold in the light, and his broad shoulders took up most of the armchair, like he’d had to squeeze himself into it.
She didn’t remember seeing him come in. Maybe it was when she had been to the bathroom, or before she had even arrived this morning. She stood half hidden in the shadows, not sure whether to greet him or ask if he needed anything. He already had a book. He was the man who had been short with her the other day when she had recommended him a fantasybook.
He looked strangely lonely, sitting there by himself, though he looked to be so absorbed in the book he hadn’t noticed her presence. This was certainly a good place to sit and read, without the distractions of home or the noise of a café. Chloe examined the man’s profile, noting the straight nose, the serious furrow of his eyebrows. There was something charming about seeing a man read.
He dog-eared the page, glancing up. Chloe backed into the next aisle, feeling strangely nervous, like she was doing something wrong. She shook herself and went to get more books, being as quiet as she could until she had rejoined Eric. When she was safely back in the brighter lobby, she concealed a shudder.
She had caught the man dog-earing a page. How horrific.
On her way back to Eric, something caught her eye on a nearby shelf. It was a piece of paper, torn from a notebook. Chloe picked it up, wondering if it was some rubbish someone had left behind. She unfolded it and stared.
Inked in the centre of the page was a little black heart.
