The Library of Lost and Found(6)

“Anything to help,” he said with a peck to her cheek. He slipped the book into the bag and tucked it under his arm. “Now I’ll let you get on with your reading. I think Martha might like the section on flowers in the encyclopedias.”

“She’s read it a few times already,” Betty said quietly.

“Her favorite, obviously.”

As Thomas moved away, back towards the door to the dining room, the doorbell rang.

Betty knew he didn’t like her to open the front door to strangers, so she walked over to the window. Hitching the curtain to one side, she saw her mother’s blond curls wrapped up in a silk scarf. Her long turquoise dress flapped in the breeze, and Betty could already smell her perfume, Estée Lauder’s Youth Dew. “It’s Mum,” she said over her shoulder.

Thomas’s spine stiffened. “What does she want?” he asked with a sniff.

Martha jumped up. “Nana.” She rushed past him into the hallway and yanked open the front door.

Zelda entered the living room with her granddaughter’s arms wrapped around her waist and with her cheek pressed firm to her bosom.

“I’ve written a new story, Nana,” Martha said.

“Fabulous. I can’t wait to hear it.” Zelda gently peeled Martha away and looked around. “Well, hello, Thomas,” she said, as if noticing him for the first time. “That bag you’re holding is pretty. Are you embracing your feminine side?”

Thomas flashed a stiff smile. “Nice to see you, Zelda. This is just something I’m returning to the shop for Betty.”

“That’s so very thoughtful of you.”

Betty wondered if anyone else could detect the disdain in Zelda’s and Thomas’s voices when they spoke to each other. Thomas’s tone grew a little higher and quicker, and Zelda’s was more nasal with a hint of a sneer. There was always tension between the two of them, but she did her best to ignore it.

Her mother had told her many times that Thomas was too stiff and set in his ways. Whereas Thomas thought Zelda was too flighty and didn’t take things seriously enough.

“It’s a copy of Beauty and the Beast,” Martha said. “We got to read it before Dad takes it back. You’d have loved it.”

“I’m sure I would have done,” Zelda said. She glared in Thomas’s direction. “Luckily, I’ve brought something else for you, my glorious girl.” She reached into her large turquoise handbag and pulled out a flamingo-pink plastic mirror the size of a dinner plate. It had white plastic daisies around its frame.

Martha gasped. “It’s beautiful. Thanks, Nana,” she said as she took hold of it. “‘Mirror, mirror on the wall…’”

“‘Who’s the fairest of them all?’” Zelda said. “You and Lilian are. You can use this to see how pretty you both are.”

Betty watched as Thomas’s eyes narrowed with disapproval.

“That’s very kind of you, Zelda,” he said. “But the children have got far too many things already. You should save your money for a rainy day.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Zelda shrugged. She knelt down on the floor. “Now, don’t let me delay you, Thomas. No need to stay around on my behalf.”

Thomas ran his tongue over his top teeth. He stared at Betty, trying to catch her eye, but she pretended not to notice and glanced away. Eventually he said, “I’ll see you later,” and closed the door behind him.

Zelda gave a pronounced sigh, exaggerating her relief that he’d gone. “Now, I want to hear this new story of yours, Martha. Will you tell it to me?”

Betty watched through the window as Thomas walked down the path and opened the gate.

Martha dropped down cross-legged to the floor. Her plait swung as she picked up her notepad and found the right page. She cleared her throat and began to read aloud…

The Bird Girl

Once upon a time there was a girl who lived with her mother, father and sister. Although they should be a happy family, the girl often felt sad but didn’t know why. She sensed something strange in the air but didn’t know what it was.

Each night, when she went to bed, the girl dreamed that she was a bird. She would fly high into the sky, where being clever and perfect all the time didn’t matter.

One night, after a family tea where tension seemed to dance, unspoken, around the table again, the girl sat in her room, wringing her hands. She was fed up and she decided to try to glue feathers to her arms and legs, so she really could be like a bird. After taking a long time to carry out her task, she opened her bedroom window. But the ground looked too far down and she was afraid to jump.

In the morning, she peeled off the feathers and this made her skin red and sore. To explain it, she told her parents that she’d got sunburned while playing outside. But they were too busy looking after her little sister to be interested.

On the next night, the girl took the feathers and did the same thing. But, again, she couldn’t bring herself to leap out of the window.

And the pattern continued, night after night.

The girl would spend time with her family. She’d feel something wasn’t right and then she’d apply her feathers.

One evening, as the girl clenched her fists, unable to bring herself to jump again, a blackbird stood on the window ledge. He tapped his yellow beak against the window, inviting the girl to open it.