The Library of Lost and Found(42)

Words jammed in Martha’s throat. It hurt when she swallowed. “Before you, what?”

Zelda let out her breath in a whistle. “They tell me different things, those bloody doctors. I never know who’s right and who’s wrong, and they all just look like kids. I don’t have a crystal ball, but it’s unlikely I’ll see Christmas.”

Martha’s stomach plunged, as if she’d stepped into an elevator shaft. “You have less than ten months?”

“More like four.”

Martha swayed and struggled to remain upright. Her future flashed through her head. She’d already pictured that Zelda would be a big part of it. She choked back tears and focused on the roof of the Waltzer. Someone had thrown a red high-heeled shoe up there, and a broken umbrella. A chill crept over her and she tried not to breathe in case she let out a cry. The top of her nose stung as she fought back her tears.

The two women stayed silent for a while.

Zelda slowly released her grip on the chair. “What will be, will be,” she said, her eyes shining with tears.

“But we have so much to talk about. I need to know what—”

Zelda held up her hand. “I only want to look forward and not back.”

Martha pushed her striped hair back off her forehead. “How can we do that? My parents lied to me about your death. You’ve been missing from my life for years. We need to discuss it all.”

Zelda shook her head fiercely. “Do we have to, Martha? Can’t we pretend that it didn’t happen? Can’t we just have some fun together?”

“Blue Skies and Stormy Seas brought me to you. Why did you write it? You put a message inside a copy, so you must have meant to give it to me…” Martha reached out and gently took hold of her nana’s shoulder.

“Gina warned me you’d have a lot of questions.” Zelda rubbed her nose.

“I think that’s an understatement.”

Without warning, Zelda jerked back. She grabbed hold of her wheels and maneuvered her chair. She rolled past the café and into the main body of the fairground again. “We should go to the entrance, to wait for Gina,” she said over her shoulder.

“We haven’t finished talking,” Martha called helplessly after her.

“We have, for today. And there’s something I want to do.”



* * *



Martha helped to push Zelda towards the entrance gate. She still had so many questions turning over in her mind as they neared the fiberglass ice cream cone. Keeping hold of her emotions was like trapping a whirlwind in her chest. She didn’t know when she’d see Zelda again, to ask her these things.

“Pass me my bag, please,” Zelda said when they reached the entrance.

In a haze, Martha reached down and pulled it out from under her chair. She thought that Zelda might want a drink of water, or to take a tablet. However, her nana took out a copy of Blue Skies and Stormy Seas. It had a burgundy cover and gold lettering, a pristine copy like the one at Monkey Puzzle Books. Surprised to see it, Martha let out a puff of breath.

Zelda opened the book. She waited until a group of people approached. Then, hesitating like a conductor before they waved a baton at the orchestra, she cleared her throat. “Ahem. ‘The Puppet Maker,’” she read aloud. Her voice was as loud and clear as Rita said it was.

Martha’s limbs grew rigid as a young couple paused to listen. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

Zelda batted her hand and raised her voice a notch. “‘A puppet maker and his wife had been married for many years but couldn’t have the children they longed for…’”

The young couple pushed their pram a bit closer. The three white-vested men from the ghost train stopped to listen. As Zelda read more of the story, a small crowd gathered around her. Two teenage girls laughed behind their hands. The young couple crouched down so their lips were level with their toddler daughter’s ears. The tattooed men shrugged at each other.

Martha felt like her feet were set in tarmac. She wanted to walk away, to distance herself from this strange situation. But she had to wait until her grandmother finished the story, one Martha made up when she was a girl. She listened with a mix of dread and intrigue.

As Zelda read on, Martha couldn’t enjoy her words. Her chest hurt and she raised herself on her tiptoes, looking for Gina. The recital was over in a few minutes but it felt like much longer.

“The end,” Zelda announced as she finished the story.

When she closed the book, Martha exhaled with relief.

A few seconds of silence passed, before one person clapped, and then another. The man with the red devil tattoo whooped and his friend whistled. Zelda gave a small bow. She fumbled in her bag and took out a pen and pad of sticky yellow notes. After writing down a few words, she stuck a note to the front of the book. “Put it flat on the ground,” she told Martha.

“The book?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“There’s no time to explain. I can see Gina coming.”

Martha did what her nana asked. She placed the book on the pavement and stood up too quickly. With her heart leaping around, she took hold of the back of the wheelchair.

The tattooed man peered down at the book and picked it up.

And, as she began to push her grandmother away, Martha caught a glimpse of the words written on the yellow sticky note.