The Library of Lost and Found(53)
“Leave it alone,” Suki said. “It smells okay and you look great. Take a look in the long mirror.”
Martha didn’t want to do that. She knew she looked different because she felt different. Although she was comfortable with the amendments to her hair and makeup, extending change to her entire body might be a step too far. “No, it’s okay. I trust you.” She held her arms out to the side and waddled out of the bathroom.
“Try not to walk like a peregrine.”
“Do you mean a penguin?”
“Whatever.” Suki shook her head and held out a coat. It was one of Betty’s, beige wool with a tie belt. “This will look good.”
Martha took the coat from Suki and pulled it on, catching a brief whiff of her mother’s perfume. It reminded her of the flowers her father bought each Friday.
A myriad of emotions washed over her for a moment—sadness, nostalgia, love and regret—but she didn’t want to allow them to envelop her. She was actually having fun. Not in a running-along-the-sands-with-a-beach-ball type, but a grown-up version. She had to try to banish any doubts or concerns from creeping in.
“I have to go,” Suki said, glancing at her watch. “You’ll be okay?”
Martha gave a firm nod. “I have no choice.” She tied the belt on her coat more tightly. Then she tried not to stumble as she made her way downstairs in the high-heeled shoes. “Please don’t pick up your craft bags. I’ll bring them to the library,” she said as she opened the front door.
“Okay.” Suki stepped outside. “Let me know when you want to paint the dragon’s head. Or feel free to have a go yourself.” She tugged her coat across her bump, the edges failing to meet in the middle.
“I will. Oh, and Suki,” Martha called out after her as she walked away. “Thank you for a most enlightening afternoon.”
“Ha,” Suki said, glancing back over her shoulder. “You shall go to the ball, Ms. Storm.”
21
Cake
Even though it was six minutes before the agreed time, Martha waited on the doorstep for Owen to arrive and pick her up.
She trotted to one side of the step and then the other, testing out the stability of her heeled shoes and the likelihood of twisting her ankle. A probability of around 35 percent, she reckoned.
She bent one knee forward and then the other, trying out the tightness of her skirt. It made her feel like her legs were bandaged together, and she didn’t feel like Martha Storm, Volunteer Librarian any longer. The skirt gave her more of a Martha Storm, Wonder Woman feeling.
When Owen arrived, precisely on time, she was pleased to note, he got out of his car and opened the door for her. Martha hobbled over and just about managed to eke her legs high enough to climb into the seat.
“Will you be warm enough with bare legs?” he asked.
How lovely of him to show concern, she thought. Though she also felt a small jolt of disappointment that he hadn’t commented on her drastic change of appearance.
She herself had spotted that he was wearing a salmon-colored scarf that, strangely, both complemented and contrasted with his red shirt. He’d added a badge to his lapel collection, this one proclaiming Bookaholics Anonymous. He had also cleaned the inside of his car. The foot well was empty and she could smell violets.
Without waiting for her reply, Owen bent down to fiddle with his car radio. “Sorry, but I’ve been trying to locate some music for us that isn’t heavy metal or electronic dance… I may have failed.”
They set off and drove up and along Maltsborough Road to the sound of AC/DC played on volume level two and a half.
“I’m so intrigued to meet Zelda and chat about her book,” Owen said as they headed inland. “I have so many questions, about how Blue Skies and Stormy Seas came to be in print.”
Martha wanted to find out the same thing, too. And this was good, she told herself, that his enthusiasm was firmly focused on her nana. Because, with her newly pinkened lips and appealing hair, the last thing she wanted was for him to think she’d invited him on some kind of date. “Getting answers from her is proving quite a challenge,” she warned.
They stopped off to buy tiramisu from a delicatessen on the way, and a bottle of merlot. Martha peered down at the dessert as it rested on her lap, and it looked both assuredly fresh and authentically Italian. If she ate cake, then she was sure it would taste delicious.
She was pleased to find that her and Owen’s conversation wasn’t stilted at all, as they resumed their discussion about books. This time they talked about ones from their childhoods. Martha chose Enid Blyton’s The Magic Faraway Tree because she loved the idea that creatures lived in a tree, in an everyday forest. Owen preferred Treasure Island. “It offers true escapism, buccaneers and buried gold,” he said. “What more could a boy want from a book?”
* * *
When they reached the old vicarage, Martha’s back felt a little damp with nerves, but she knocked firmly on the door. She remembered that her arrival hadn’t achieved much enthusiasm from Gina the last time she was here.
However, Gina answered the door with a warm smile. She wore a blush-pink sweater and long cream skirt. Her long white hair was swept into a loose bun. She gave Martha a small kiss to her cheek.
Martha returned it, unsure whether to go for a double one that seemed to pass as a standard greeting these days. She stuck with the one. “I’d like to introduce you to Owen Chamberlain, a bookseller,” she said. “He passed Blue Skies and Stormy Seas on to me. And this is Gina. She’s Zelda’s, um…” She didn’t complete her sentence, unsure how Gina preferred to be addressed.