by E. A. Owell
Gallery of Forgotten Dreams
By
E.A. Owell
Chapter 1
Big snowflakes fell gently from the clouded sky. The day was wrapped in a soft grey light, while the ground lay covered with a blanket of white furry snow. It was January, and Eliza was in her room by the window, back from the holidays. The suitcase stood by the bed still only half-unpacked and many things were scattered around the room.
Eliza watched the snow fall slowly, as if it were unwilling to touch the ground and wanted to linger in the air that one fleeting moment longer. It covered everything: roofs, trees, cars, pavements. It seemed as if the world had grown tired of all colours and painted itself pristine white. It looked beautiful, almost otherworldly. And clean, too. Pity it would melt down soon, revealing the dull greyness it tried to mask.
With a sigh, Eliza tore her gaze off the window. She looked at the room – there was work to be done. She blamed it on her suitcase, which was like a Pandora’s Box of clothes and other things that kept creeping out and settling themselves in various spot’s of Eliza’s room. In fact, anywhere but for the spots all these things actually should be. It was happening in a suspiciously subtle way. The strangest thing was that it must have been Eliza herself who did it but she still failed to understand how this could have happened.
Whether there was a secret conspiracy of Eliza’s belongings against her or not, the room had to be tidied up. She promised. The past autumn had taught Eliza not to give promises lightly and, if given, stick to them. She knew that the consequences could be dire. Perhaps, not as a result of a messy room, but still. She judged she could do with some self-discipline.
Eliza switched on the light, which made the mess look even worse. Oh well. She bravely lunged into the process.
It began really well. Since the clothes were covering most of the space, she decided to deal with them first. It was a fairly easy task and Eliza felt invigorated by the successful start. However, the progress showed signs of faltering right after the first stage. Eliza began to go through holiday photographs and souvenirs and that was when she slowed down significantly.
You cannot simply pick up a photo and put it away. You need to look at it, see all the details, smile, reminisce about the moment when this photo was taken, and remember what you were doing and how much fun it was and how you wish you could do that again, for instance, right now.
And there is no way you are putting a souvenir on the shelf without fumbling with it first and revisiting the place you got it at in your mind and almost feeling again the warm sunshine on your skin and the light breeze on your face. All this takes time. A lot of time, as it turns out.
After about two hours Eliza finished. The room looked decent and there would be no new nasty line in her book of promises. Speaking of which: she should go to ‘Gregory’s Books’. Of course, they let her take a break for as long as she needed or wanted, and it’s not as if she had been absent for months, only a couple of weeks, and yet it seemed like a long time.
It was one of those feelings when you go away and, no matter how long you leave for, when you come back you expect things to be different, changed, only to find everything precisely or almost the same. And you get this mixture of slight disappointment and then contentment, because so often it feels good to return to the old ways.
Throughout her holidays, Eliza kept in touch with Tom and Rachael with the help of the Talking Parchment, which they had given to her for Christmas. She would tell them about what she had seen and where she had travelled, which they seemed to want to know about. In return, they gave her updates on the Library of Broken Promises and the state of things there, but it seemed that after the incident with Phil things were as normal as ever.
Naturally, people still talked about it but there were no more new rumours springing up every day. People pretty much exhausted their gossip resources in December, and now it was just harmless idle talk. Although, no doubt, this case will be remembered for a long-long time, if not forever.
Eliza intended to go back to her duties as the Chief Librarian’s secretary. Also, she liked borrowing books from the shop for free, as was agreed with Mr Wood.
She decided to go to ‘Gregory’s Books’ the next day, on Monday. Not that the Library of Broken Promises was closed any day of the week but it seemed more habitual to Eliza to do it this way. And, as usual, it would be after school.
Eliza’s attitude towards school had not changed much. She still wasn’t particularly fascinated by it but she learned to take it for what it was. She had come to terms with the fact that you should attend school and there was nothing else to it, really. Weirdly enough, this slight change of attitude helped a lot. It really did get easier to go to school every day and even do the homework. It was another daily routine, like brushing your teeth. Simple but quite effective way of looking at it.
Monday morning was clear and bright. The sun was shining upon the snow-covered town, making it glitter and sparkle. People in the street squinted and hid their noses in thick warm scarves, puffing little clouds of steam. If this wasn’t a glorious day, Eliza didn’t know what was.
The day at school flew by. Eliza barely noticed lessons at all. And not because she wasn’t paying attention, but simply because she met her friends after what seemed like a long while. Everyone had something to share from their time away from school.
Eliza heard all there was to hear about Emily’s time with her parents in Prague, which sounded really lovely. Nathan had an adventurous time in South America, and even though they suspected Nathan’s stories to be richly laced with his own imagination (he was somewhat known for telling tall tales), it was obvious he had enjoyed his time.
Eliza noticed there was a general positive vibe everywhere and in everyone, even the teachers. There was something blissful floating in the air that day. Maybe the weather had something to do with it. Everybody was having a good day. No wonder at the end of the classes Eliza felt something she hadn’t felt before – she actually was a tiny bit sad the school was over for the day. That was new.
After hanging out with her classmates and having a cheery snowball fight, Eliza finally headed to ‘Gregory’s Books’. She probably could not have been in a better mood. She thought seeing Mr Wood and Tom and Rachael would make her sing! She almost danced her way to the shabby red sign of the bookshop. She peered inside through the window: the place was conveniently empty. It was too early for it to get busy. Eliza pushed the door – the familiar bell tinkled, as she entered.
She looked around the sunlit shop – it appeared to be completely deserted. Tiny specks of dust hung almost motionless in the sun rays. At the back of the shop Eliza could see the familiar purple drape along the wall. She approached the drape and, making sure there was still nobody in the shop, drew it to the side. A door with the open book symbol on it was before Eliza's eyes once again. She pushed the symbol and stepped into the gloom through the opened door.
‘Well, well, well, if it isn't our young Miss Reid,’ Eliza heard a familiar voice say – Mr Wood sat at the desk by the door smiling at Eliza, his glasses glinting with the reflected light of the candles.
‘Mr Wood!’ Eliza hurried to the desk. ‘How great to see you!’
‘Absolutely likewise, dear Eliza,’ Mr Wood stood up and stretched his hand out to greet Eliza. She grasped the hand firmly and shook it assuredly.
‘How were your holidays?’ asked Mr Wood, motioning Eliza to take a seat in the chair opposite him.
Eliza told him what there was to tell about her Christmas break, while having tea with biscuits – the best way invented so far to tell stories.
‘You used your time very well, I ta
ke it. Good to hear. You deserved it,’ said Mr Wood.
‘What about you? How have you been? How are things with the Library?’ asked Eliza.
‘As a matter of fact, things have been very well after... after the whole thing last year.’ A slight shadow passed over the shopkeeper's face. The events of the past autumn still troubled him. Such things did not happen often, after all. But he recovered almost immediately, smiling again. ‘I've been well, too, thank you, resolutely nothing to complain about.’
‘How are Tom and Rachael doing?’
‘Well, why don't you ask them yourself?’ said Mr Wood, looking past Eliza’s back.
Eliza turned her head and saw Tom and Rachael coming down the main aisle towards her, waving. She jumped off the chair and with a joyous yelp threw her hands round Rachael.
‘How good to see you!’ said Rachael.
‘It really is,’ said Tom, experiencing one of Eliza’s firmest hugs. ‘How have you been?’
‘Brilliant! Had a wonderful holiday. But it kind of feels good to be back here, you know,’ she couldn’t help smiling, ‘what did you do?’
‘Well, not much, really. We’ve told you about it. Had a lovely Christmas and then got back to work. That’s what we do, right?’ said Tom.
‘Right. I think I’m ready to get back to work, too,’ Eliza turned to Mr Wood, looking at him questioningly.
‘If you wish,’ he said, standing up and gesturing courteously to the chair he had been occupying. ‘I need to be going back to the shop, anyway. It’s time people started showing up, and what shopkeeper would I be if I weren’t there to meet them?’ With a slight crooked smile of his and a light bow of his head, he vanished through the door into the bookshop.
‘Before you return to your duties, I hope we’ve still got time for a cup of tea?’ said Rachael. ‘We must hear more about your holidays.’
Chapter 2
That evening Eliza got home rather late, for she had spent way more time at the Library than she had expected. No, there wasn’t another outburst of random promises appearing in the books all over the Library. There simply turned out to be more to catch up on with Tom and Rachael than Eliza had thought.
She learned about a Christmas party that Mr Wood held at the shop, about Tom and Rachael spending a couple of days together at Tom’s parents’ place up North, as well as about their work that slightly increased during Christmas, which struck Eliza as odd.
‘But why? It’s Christmas! Such a lovely holiday! I don’t understand…’
‘It is a lovely holiday, and it is also the time when everybody gets together, including your second cousin and your great granddad who you see once a year, for Christmas, and then in good spirit of the holiday you promise each other to meet up more often and get together every Sunday, which is all nice and good, only it seldom really happens. Most of the time, people would just go back to their normal lives, in which they do not meet as often. So a lot of these promises are broken right from the beginning.’
Eliza immediately thought about herself. That had happened to her, too. She had also made such promises. Thankfully, not this year.
Work days at the Library went by just as they used to, only now it was even better – there were no alarming activities going on this time and, thus, there wasn’t as much work to do with the reports. Books did become red in this or that section but it was nothing out of the ordinary.
On Thursday, Eliza was going to ‘Gregory’s Books’ after quite a long day at school but she wasn’t particularly tired, rather satisfied with the fact that she had made it through the day. By the time she reached the bookshop, it was already getting crowded. People walked up and down the aisles, looking for a good read, picking up books, flicking through them, then setting them back on the shelf and moving on.
Eliza saw Mr Wood’s back at the far end of the shop. He was talking to someone, probably consulting on what could be of interest to them. She walked towards him – she needed to get to the Library, and the door was right past the shopkeeper and his customer. As she was passing by, Mr Wood noticed her.
‘Good evening, Eliza!’
‘Good evening, Mr Wood!’ she replied quickly and was about to walk on, because she didn’t want to distract him from his work, when she heard a woman’s voice, ‘Hello, young Miss Reid.’
Eliza looked at the stranger and realised that it was no stranger at all. It was Mrs Cornish, the tall extravagantly-dressed old lady Eliza had met last year in this very bookshop on one of her first visits. And just like on their first meeting, Mrs Cornish had a tiny little dog under her arm, which this time was dressed in a warm fluffy costume. It was winter, after all.
‘Hello, Mrs Cornish. Nice to see you.’
‘Ah! So polite! Lovely!’ replied Mrs Cornish in her girlish voice. ‘Did you have nice holidays, dear?’
‘Yes, very nice, thank you.’
‘Wonderful!’ Mrs Cornish seemed to be bubbling with enthusiasm. ‘Such a lovely girl! Do come visit my gallery. I’m sure you’ll find it quite interesting. And, like I said, admission for smart girls is free.’ She winked at Eliza.
Eliza felt a prick of conscience for still not having visited the place. ‘Er, sure, I will.’ She forced a smile that, she suspected, still bore a hint of guilt.
‘I do hope to see you. We have a wonderful new exhibition opening this weekend, so you are most welcome!’
‘That’s great. I’ll be happy to come,’ said Eliza, knowing that there was no turning back now.
‘Lovely! Well, we won’t delay you any longer. You must be on your way. Hope to see you again.’
Eliza walked on to the draped wall with the door. Mrs Cornish’s back conveniently screened Eliza, so she slipped under the drapes and into the Library, unnoticed by any of the customers.
The rest of the evening was quite uneventful. And when it came to the Library, Eliza actually liked it this way. Now she could really just enjoy helping out Mr Wood and the Revisers as opposed to being constantly concerned about why something was going wrong and not knowing what to do.
However, there was one thing she couldn’t get her mind off. The Cornish Gallery. Eliza felt bad for at least not dropping by. She had bumped into Mrs Cornish several times now and she had been invited to visit, for free, and Mrs Cornish seemed to be good to Eliza, and yet Eliza had not returned the kindness.
She really should go there. Besides, she didn’t have much of a choice now, did she? She said she would come. She kind of promised. And Eliza had no plans of becoming one of those people who broke their promises. She also had no plans for this weekend. Until now.
That very evening Eliza invited her whole family to visit the Cornish Gallery on the forthcoming weekend.
‘That sounds nice,’ said her mum, slightly surprised at her daughter’s sudden interest in contemporary art, but pleased, it seemed. ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea.’
‘Should be a good high-brow family time,’ said her dad with a laugh, approving of the idea, nonetheless.
Her brother Danny had no objections, either.
Saturday morning Eliza woke up in a good mood. When she came into the kitchen it was clear that the rest of the family shared her upbeat spirits. The day was grey and not so cold, with snow falling down leisurely. Toasts with cherry jam and hot Earl Grey convinced Eliza completely that life was great. In an hour they were ready to set out.
They decided to walk to the gallery. It was warmer than in previous days and the softly falling snow reminded of the not-so-distant Christmas. Eliza and Danny were walking ahead of their parents chatting about the latest football match when something hit Eliza on the back. She turned around. There was no one but their parents, talking about something to each other. They looked at the kids questioningly.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Mr Reid.
Eliza shook her head, confused.
‘I think I know what the matter is,’ said Danny, as he scooped some snow and formed it
into a firm ball in his hands.
Mr Reid’s innocent face broke into a smile. He and Eliza dived for the snow at the same time, as Danny opened fire. Mrs Reid didn’t stay out of it, either. Snowballs started flying through the air to the accompaniment of laughter. Passers-by tried to steer away from the battlefield. Most of them succeeded.
After twenty minutes of dodging, jumping and running, truce was called. Red-faced and puffing, the Reids continued on their way, although suspicious glances were thrown at each other every now and then all the way to the Gallery.
Finally, they found themselves standing in front of a low building, which bore large letters above its entrance that said ‘Cornish Gallery’. The gallery welcomed them with the warmth of a small foyer. They left their clothes in the cloakroom and went over to the ticket desk. Just as Mr Reid asked for four tickets, they heard a voice.
‘Eliza! Hello, dear! How wonderful that you made it here.’
The Reids turned around and saw a tall elderly lady in a long sparkling dress approaching them.
‘Hello, Mrs Cornish!’ Eliza said, smiling politely.
‘It’s so good to see you. But what are you doing at the ticket desk? You don’t need one. As I said, you are most welcome free of charge.’
‘Thank you, but I’ve brought my family with me as well,’ Eliza said awkwardly.
Mrs Cornish looked at the Reids. ‘Oh, but that’s lovely! How great to meet you. I am Mrs Cornish,’ she shook their hands.
‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ Mrs Reid said, a little puzzled. ‘And how do you know Eliza?’
‘Oh, we’ve met on several occasions at ‘Gregory’s Books’, that bookshop on Underwood Street, and I liked Eliza immediately. I could see an intelligent mind at first glance. I thought it might be interesting for her to come to the gallery. Such a clever girl could find it useful and nourishing for her mind, wouldn’t you say?’ Mrs Cornish beamed at them. ‘But come now, you don’t have to stand here waiting for the tickets. You may go straight inside.’