The Library of Lost and Found(55)

“Me?” Martha tried not to glance at the jolly fellow when he returned to his seat.

“I’ve told him you’ve got your eye on someone else. But Harry doesn’t mind a bit of competition.”

“Ha.” Martha laughed nervously. Knowing it was pointless to scold her grandmother, she reached out for her glass and drained all her wine. The warm feeling it gave her helped her to feel less paranoid.

“Harry works at Sandshift football ground, arranging events and entertainment. He may come in handy for our plan of action.”

Martha didn’t know which word worried her most. “Plan” or “action.” “What exactly is that?”

Zelda stared at her, as if she should know. “You witnessed my Read and Run?”

“Gina explained what it was.”

“Well, I want my next one to be for as many people as possible. And I want you to join me.”

“Thanks. I’m happy to come along and watch.”

“Oh no.” Zelda shook her head resolutely. “I want it to be a team effort. Me and you.”

“You want to read a story from Blue Skies and Stormy Seas? At the football ground?”

“Yes. The crowd will love it.”

Martha didn’t have any experience of football matches but she very much doubted it. She ran a finger cautiously around the top of her glass. “With me?”

“Well, I don’t want to do it on my own.”

“Can’t Gina help you?”

As Zelda glanced over at her carer, her eyes grew dimmer. “Gina’s a good woman, but she wants me to put my feet up. She doesn’t understand I want to spend time living it up, not sitting it out,” Zelda said. “Plus, we won’t charge a fee.”

Martha pursed her lips. “I don’t think I can do it. The stories in the book bring back a lot of memories. They’re not all pleasant…”

“That’s a good reason to do it.”

Martha wondered if she was missing something. “I don’t really see how.”

Zelda squeezed her hand. “We can create new memories, together. You can write new stories.”

This was all too much for Martha to take in. She had come here hoping to solve a myriad of family mysteries, about why Zelda vanished, what Lilian knew, and about how and why the book came to be in existence. But now, her nana was trying to sign her up as entertainment for a local football match. “I can’t write any longer,” she protested. “Those stories were stupid, old-fashioned ones I made up when I was a child.”

“Excuse me.” Zelda removed her hand and folded her arms. “Those stories are ah-mazing.”

“Well.” Martha bristled. “I can’t tell them any longer. They vanished from my head when you disappeared from my life.”

“But I’m back now. Can’t you just pick up where you left off?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

The two women stared at each other and then looked in opposite directions.

“Well,” Zelda said with a sniff. She rooted around up her sleeve for a tissue and patted it against her eyes. She flicked her head and her voice shook. “That’s a real shame.”

“I’ll come with you, to the football ground. I just don’t want to—”

Zelda cleared her throat. “It’s one of my dying wishes,” she said. “For us to do it together.”

Martha’s mouth dropped open. She took hold of Zelda’s elbow. “Please don’t say that.”

“Well, it is.” Zelda’s voice wobbled. “That and being able to celebrate one last Christmas. Is it really too much to ask?”

Martha felt her chest ache with guilt. “No. It isn’t too much,” she muttered.

“Thank you,” Zelda said with a tremble of her lip. “You’re a good girl, Martha Storm.”



* * *



When Martha felt a hand on her shoulder, she turned to find Owen smiling down at her. He placed a further glass of wine next to her plate. “This is a very nice chardonnay. Drink as much as you like. I’m sticking to the orange juice tonight for our drive home.” He moved his head a few inches back and frown lines appeared across his forehead. “Have you cut your hair? It looks very stylish. The green sweater suits you, too.”

Martha felt a giggle rise from deep inside her chest. It felt too girlish, not her. “Thank you,” she said. A small hiccup escaped from her lips and then another. She placed a hand to her mouth to stop them and, as her shoulders twitched, she spotted Harry firing a grin in her direction.

The food was delicious, so different from the usual things Martha popped into the microwave or spooned onto toast. The wine loosened her words and made her feel less overawed at being surrounded by people.

When she eventually got to talk to Zelda again, she couldn’t leave things alone. “Did you ever think of us?” she waved her glass around a little. “While you were in America?”

Zelda cocked her head to one side. “Of course I did. I might have been far away, but I thought about you. And Betty, too…”

“And Lilian?”

“Yes.”

Martha rubbed her chin. “I spoke to my sister earlier. She said she knew you didn’t die in 1982. She told me to be careful.”