The Library of Lost and Found(26)

One day, a silvery sea lion appeared on a rock beside her, as she combed her hair. In his flipper was a large cone-shaped shell. “If you blow into this shell,” he said, “it will allow you to grow legs so you can go ashore. You can meet your fisherman. However, you won’t ever be able to return to the sea.”

For six days and six nights, the mermaid swam up and down the shore. She watched the fisherman carry out his empty lobster pots to the boat, and watched as he brought them back again, with orange claws poking through.

On the seventh day, the mermaid decided that she’d had enough of the sea and she yearned for something different. She wanted to be with the fisherman. So, she took hold of the shell and blew into it. Then she closed her eyes and everything fell dark.

She woke on the sand, with the sun shining into her eyes, and she felt strange because her tail no longer flicked. In its place were two feet with pretty toes. And the fisherman stood, tall, above her. He held out his hand to help her to stand up, and it was difficult because she’d never done it before.

He led her to his hut on the beach, where he read stories to her, about the sea, until she felt stronger. However, whenever he asked where she came from, she made up a story. She didn’t tell him that she once lived in the sea.

Soon, the fisherman and the mermaid fell in love and they had a baby together. But when their little girl was born, she had a fish’s scaly tail.

“I can’t understand it.” The fisherman scratched his head.

“Me neither,” the mermaid lied and cried. “What can we do?”

The mermaid and the fisherman talked for many nights until they reached a decision. They would set the baby free in the sea. They were very sad but the baby was unhappy in the hut and her eyes lit up when she saw the waves.

As soon as the fisherman and the mermaid lowered her into the water, a smile fell on the baby’s lips and she swam away.

“She’ll visit us each day, don’t worry,” the mermaid told the fisherman, as she held his hand tightly.

But they never saw their daughter again. And, although the mermaid loved her husband with all her heart, she wished that she hadn’t met him, because she had been happy as she was.





10


Photograph

Martha picked up the key from the hook in her pantry and stared at it. It had hung there for two years, unused, on a piece of tatty pink ribbon. Clive had asked her to look after it in case the burglar alarm sounded out of hours at the library.

“Everyone else has a family,” Clive had said, with a condescending smile. “If you get a call in the middle of the night, it doesn’t matter as much, does it?”

Martha slipped the key into her coat pocket. She flipped on her hood and left the house.

She’d missed out on her walk down to the mermaid statue that morning, and she didn’t go there now.

Horatio was sweeping out his aquarium, and she saw Branda struggling to open the door to the Lobster Pot, because her arms were laden with designer label shopping bags. Martha thrust her head down, pretending not to see them, and carried on.

Her limbs weren’t stiff when she walked, and she didn’t need to pump her arms. She walked swiftly and with purpose, directly to the library.

She glanced around furtively before she opened the doors and then locked them behind her. Leaving the light turned off, she made her way into the main room.

The building was deliciously quiet and the books stood in lines like silent soldiers. The daylight outside was dimming, so the room was in semidarkness. Long shadows cut across the carpet and walls and Martha trod quietly across the carpet. Her book-rating spreadsheets still lay on the table, along with two copies of Distant Desire.

Usually, Martha would tidy things up, but today she sat down at the desk and switched on the library computer. It was an old thing, constructed from white plastic that had turned a creamy yellow over the years. It clunked and whirred, as if there was a small man sitting inside it firing up cogs and flicking switches. Finally, the library logo appeared and she typed in her password.

There were a few emails from Clive and she ignored those. She only had eyes for the one from Owen. She paused, her fingers hovering over the keys, before she clicked on it.

Hi Martha

Dexter called this morning. He found that your book was published in 1985, so the dedication to you looks like its dated correctly. We also managed to trace the company who printed it, to Scandinavia!

Dexter said there was an old newspaper clipping in the book. He gave it to his wife because she likes vintage stuff. I asked him to copy it and I’ve attached it here, so you can see if it means anything to you.

See you soon for coffee?

Owen

Martha scratched her head. Scandinavia? How could her stories have reached all that way? And if her nana had written the message in 1985, then it meant her parents had lied about her death. She circled a hand over her stomach, rubbing away a feeling of unease.

Clicking on the attachment in the email, she watched as the screen spooled before the image opened. It was on its side, so she turned her head to the left to see it properly. It was grainy, a small article about a funfair, and Martha immediately recognized the three people in its accompanying photo.

She and Lilian sat on a wall, either side of Zelda. Behind them, Martha could make out a sign for the Hall of Mirrors. Her nana grinned and there was a black spot under her top lip. Martha moved her face closer to the screen, wondering what it was. As she stared at it, a memory emerged and developed in her mind.