The Library of Lost and Found(90)

And although there was no one else around other than a few dog-walkers, and the voice she heard was more likely to be the whisper of the wind, she thought she heard someone say, “Martha.”



* * *



When she got home, she found that her front door was locked. The only person who had a spare key was Lilian, and she wondered if Siegfried had arranged for her to secure the house.

She opened the door, walked in and stood in the dining room. The cuckoo clock ticked and in five minutes’ time he would pop out his head and call eight times. But Martha didn’t want to hear him ever again, counting her time away.

Reaching up, she took the clock down from the wall. She took the batteries out and put them in her pocket. The ticking stopped. Perhaps she would buy a new clock, a big chrome thing with a modern white face. She could venture into the scary world of home decoration shops.

She strolled around her dining room and the house seemed quiet without the loud ticking sound. Making herself a strong cup of tea, she sat in the wooden chair and looked out at the bay and the lighthouse. She pictured Siegfried and Daniel together, as young men, laughing with their crew as they pushed the Pegasus out to sea. She saw them clambering aboard as the waves slapped the sides of the vessel.

She reached into her pocket and took out the envelope Siegfried had given her. It was unsealed, and the address on the front could be for anyone. So she opened it.

To whom it may concern

I, bestselling author Lucinda Lovell, am pleased to give a reference for Martha Storm. I can vouch that she is a committed worker, a good person and brings enthusiasm and knowledge to her role. I can think of no better person to attain a full-time position at the library. She breathes life into it.

If you wish to contact me for more information, please do so in writing, c/o Siegfried Frost, Sandshift Lighthouse, Sandshift Bay.

Martha’s body flooded with warmth. Her chest radiated with heat at Siegfried’s glorious gesture. “Thank you,” she said aloud.

She’d probably never know for certain if Lucinda Lovell was the pen name for Siegfried’s sister, Angela. Or if Angela was the face for Siegfried’s words.

All she knew was that her father’s friend had been there for her again. And they’d be there for each other, from now on.

She placed the reference in the same envelope as her job application and set it down on her dining table.



* * *



Martha had just finished her drink when she heard her front door open.

The floorboards in the hallway creaked and she sat up to attention. She gripped her cup and waited for the person to enter.

Lilian’s blond hair was mussy and her eyes dark underneath. She wore a cream sheepskin coat with the collar turned up. “So, you’re back, then?” she asked. Her eyes flitted around the room as she took a seat on the sofa. “Your friend at the library, with the floaty clothes and strange hair, said you’ve been staying in the lighthouse.”

Martha nodded. “With Siegfried Frost. I needed some time out, to think things through.”

Lilian pursed her lips, then nodded her head. “I totally get it. I need time, too, because of Paul…”

“How are things?”

She gave a small shrug. “Rocky, but I’m trying my best. It’ll be a shame if we can’t sort things out. We’re well suited, I think.” She gave a short laugh. “Not like Mum and Dad.”

Their eyes met.

“Would you like a coffee?” Martha asked.

She half expected her sister to say that she had to dash, but Lilian nodded. “I’d love one. A cappuccino, extra frothy, if you have it?”

“It’s kind of just normal coffee.”

“Well, that’s fine, too.”

Martha made their drinks and carried them back into the dining room.

Lilian wrapped both hands around her cup and glanced around. “The house looks really different. You’ve cleared out loads of stuff.”

“I’ve moved some into the shed, too. The house was a mess.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” Lilian started, but then they both laughed at how unconvincing she sounded.

“I let things get out of control,” Martha said firmly. “I need to look after myself, rather than other people.”

“Good for you. And I’ll help with the rest of Mum and Dad’s things,” Lilian said. “We can look through them together.”

“It’s fine. I’ll—”

However, Lilian raised her hand. “I’d like to do it.” She reached down and fingered the fringes on the rug on the floor. “I’ve not seen this old thing for ages. You used to lie on it and write your stories. I was always really jealous of your imagination. I could never think of anything so creative.”

Martha raised an eyebrow. “I thought you hated fairy stories. You refused to believe that Cinderella’s carriage was made from a pumpkin.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Lilian shook her head. “I preferred the facts in the encyclopedias. Maybe it’s because I knew Dad liked us to read them. Both of us loved the funfair, though, didn’t we? We went crazy for candy floss. Do you remember when Nana bought that toffee apple and it pulled her tooth out?”

“Yes. It was stuck in the sticky red sugar.”