The Library of Lost and Found(74)

Martha looked at her nana and down at the tassels on the rug on the floor. It transported her back in time, to when she lay scribbling in her notepad. Words began to pop into her head and she joined in with the story. “It’s so he’s camouflaged against the seaweed on the sand. Each morning, before anyone wakes, he gobbles it up for his breakfast. People think he’s scary but really he’s shy…”

Zelda nodded. “Some say he comes from Romania, Count Dracula country. He came over on a boat, an exotic pet for a wealthy aristocrat. But the dragon set fire to his mansion. Somehow he escaped and found his way down to the sands…”

“He’d never seen the sea before,” Martha said. “Or sand. He loved the quietness of the cave. If you ever hear a roar in there, sometimes it’s the tide coming in, but often it’s the dragon testing out his lungs. He likes to paddle in the shallows and sometimes goes for a swim…”

Will gave a deep sigh. “Oh, sure. Dragons can’t swim.”

“The Loch Ness Monster swims. He’s not a dragon, though he’s some kind of distant relative.” Martha shuffled back by a few inches, moving her head to examine her work. “I think this fellow is finished.”

Will and Rose smiled, proud at what they’d accomplished, yet Zelda wore a look of contemplation. She kept hold of her paintbrush.

“Are you okay?” Martha asked.

Zelda stared at the dragon and then at her. “You’ve done it,” she said.

“Yes. We all have. He looks great, doesn’t he? You’d never know he was damaged before.”

“No. I mean that you’ve done it. You told a story. You remembered how to do it.”

Martha swallowed as a warm feeling began to creep over her, just like the one she sought by doing things for other people. It was as if she’d just stepped out of an air-conditioned room, and she savored it for a while.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” She nodded. “Maybe we should write the story down.”





29


Books

The next morning, the four of them took the bus over to Maltsborough. They sat on the back seat together and chatted for the entire journey. Zelda had decided to leave her wheelchair at Martha’s house. “It gets in the way and I want to move freely,” she said, making her hand into a snake. “I want to see the amusement arcades.”

As they neared the town, Rose nudged Will in his side. “You ask her,” she said.

“No.” He pushed back. “You do it.”

“What is it?” Martha asked. “What do you want?”

“Rose wants to go to the bookshop,” Will said with a smirk.

“It’s you who wants to go,” Rose retaliated.

“Is this the bookshop you refused to visit with me?” Martha frowned. “When you preferred a slice of chocolate fudge cake instead?”

“It didn’t taste as good as I remembered,” Will said.

“Too rich and sticky,” his sister agreed. “I want a new book to read, for school. And Mum says Will has got to spend less time on his phone.”

Martha thought of how she hadn’t seen Owen since the dinner party. He hadn’t been in touch, now the author of the little battered book had been revealed.

“I’d like to see Owen again,” Zelda said, as if reading Martha’s mind. She cast a sly glance at her granddaughter. “He’s very knowledgeable about books. And he’s a very attractive man.”

Will grinned. He clutched his stomach and made a sound like he was going to be sick.

Martha felt her cheeks begin to heat up. “It’s Sunday.” She bristled. “I’m sure that Chamberlain’s will be closed today.”

“We should take a look, anyway. Just in case,” Zelda said.

Martha tried to insist there was no point, but she found herself outnumbered, three to one.



* * *



Rose and Will walked a few meters apart and Martha crooked her elbow for Zelda to use as a crutch.

As they turned around the corner from the lifeboat station, Martha found that her pulse quickened when she spotted a figure standing outside the bookstore. As they drew closer she saw it was Owen.

He wore his suit with a T-shirt and red slippers, and no socks. Standing on one leg, he held a coffee cup in one hand and a book in the other. He sipped as he read.

“See,” Zelda said smugly when she noticed him. “It was worth checking.”

“He’s having his breakfast, not working. The shop will be closed, and we’re going to disturb him,” Martha said. But her nana had already raised her hand and waved.

“Owen. Owen,” she called out. “It’s so lovely to see you.”

Owen lowered his book. He set his coffee cup down on the windowsill where, Martha was sure, he’d forget and leave it. However, she quite liked that. There was an easiness about him, a comfortable lackadaisical air.

“Ezmerelda.” He grinned. “How wonderful to see you again.”

“Martha is here, too. And she’s not drunk,” Zelda said.

“That’s…um, good to know.”

“Yes.” Martha didn’t know what to say, so she shrugged and said, “Totally sober today.”