The Library of Lost and Found

by Phaedra Patrick

  After Martha gave the dragon a light sandpapering, Rose mixed the paint. She stuck her tongue out from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on stopping it from oozing off the plate.

  Zelda instructed her how to mix the colors. “For the dragon’s fleshy tones, you can use white with a dab of red and yellow. Never add black to darken a color, or you deaden the shade.”

  “How do you even know that?” Rose marveled.

  “My friend Gina is nifty with a paintbrush.”

  Will insisted his job was to hold the dragon’s head up, so Zelda didn’t have to lean down too far to paint his face.

  Martha thrived on taking charge of instructions. “That red is a little too bright, tone it down a little... Watch your sleeve doesn’t dangle in the paint, Rose... Would anyone like a nice cup of tea?”

  Will talked about Spotify on his phone, and Martha agreed he could play some music.

  They painted the dragon to the sound of Katy Perry and Beyoncé.

  “He looks friendly,” Rose said, sitting back on her heels to admire their work. “I think he might live in the cave on Sandshift beach.”

  “Dragon’s don’t live on the beach,” Will snorted. “They wouldn’t be able to breathe fire because the sea would put it out.”

  “Of course they do,” Zelda said. She pressed a fine paintbrush against the dragon’s eye, adding a dot of white light to his pupil. “Haven’t you ever heard of the Sandshift Dragon?”

  “No.” Will rolled his eyes, but then he leaned in a little. “What about it?”

  “Tell us,” Rose said.

  Zelda made her hands into claws. “His body is iridescent like a dragonfly’s and his scales look like rows of crescent moons. When you stare into his eyes, they look like they are full of fire. He isn’t a red-and-yellow dragon, like this one. The Sandshift Beast is dark green, the color of swampland.”

  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.”

  She was glad that she’d made an effort with her appearance again. She wore a Breton striped T-shirt with embroidered red roses on the front, and a slick of mascara and lipstick. Instead of her lace-up shoes, she wore a pair of ankle boots that she’d found, unworn, in the back of her mum’s wardrobe.

  “Is the shop open?” Rose lifted her chin. She peered into the dark space behind Owen.

  “Not usually on Sundays, but you’re welcome to browse,” he said. He opened the door for her. “The light switch is next to the counter.”

  Before Martha could say anything, Will and Rose shot inside.

  Owen gave a surprised shrug. “It’s great to see they’re so interested in books.”

  “We won’t keep you for long.” Martha smiled apologetically.

  “We wrote a story together, last night,” Zelda said proudly. “It’s about a dra
gon. I want to read it out loud to an audience.”

  “Not today, though.” Martha cast her a stare. “I thought we were going to the arcades.”

  “We can do both. Do you want to join us?” Zelda asked Owen. “I read to anyone I can get to listen.”

  “That sounds, um, intriguing. I’d love to tag along.”

  Zelda let go of Martha’s elbow. She patted the top of Owen’s arm and headed into the shop, too.

  Martha found herself alone with him on the pavement. “Are you sure we’re not disturbing you?”

  “No. My Sundays are pretty uneventful these days. Greg usually vanishes on a Friday night and I see him again on Monday morning,” Owen said. “It’s good to see Zelda again. She’s quite a character. Reminds me of one of my ex-mother-in-laws.”

  Martha scratched her neck. “How many wives have you actually had?”

  “Not that many...um, three.”

  “Three failed marriages are rather a lot,” Martha observed out loud, then wished she hadn’t.

  “I don’t think they failed...they were reasonably happy ones. Why does something have to last forever to be classed as successful? Surely it’s okay to give things a try.”

  Martha studied him as he leaned against the door frame. Joe had been young and ambitious, whereas Owen was maturing and steady. He came with an interesting history but, then again, so did she.

  She thought about his words and wondered if she could manage to see Joe in this way, too. That they’d shared five wonderful years together, and that she should be thankful. Even if they had married, it didn’t guarantee them a happy ending.

  “Do you mind if I watch Zelda’s reading? Or is it a family thing?” Owen asked.

  Martha glanced at him and thought that, actually, she would like him to join them. “It’s probably the more the merrier, in Zelda’s eyes. I think she’d be delighted if you came along.”

  And actually, she knew that she’d be rather pleased, too.

  * * *

  After they browsed the bookshop for half an hour, Will and Rose selected a few books each and Zelda insisted on paying. “I’ll buy them. My treat,” she said. “No arguing.”

  “I have business over in Sandshift next week,” Owen said. “I could drop the books off at the library for you, so you don’t have to carry them around today. We could grab a coffee afterwards, Martha?”

  He asked her so casually that no alarm bells rang in her head. Her father didn’t scold her, and she didn’t break out in a hot sweat thinking how to turn down a slice of cake. She also didn’t want to lug a stack of books around Maltsborough.

  “That would be lovely,” she said, finding no problem at all with accepting his invitation.

  * * *

  People bustled along the promenade. Kids sat in a row along the seawall, their legs swinging. They studiously tied scraps of bacon to string, to lower into the sea and catch crabs. A multitude of bright plastic buckets lay in wait as holding bays for the crustaceans.

  Couples strolled arm-in-arm, wrapped up in their anoraks and boots. Dogs scampered along, stopping to sniff at the exciting things dropped on the pavement—blobs of ice cream, scraps of cone and chips.

  Zelda pulled up the collar of her woolen coat against the wind.

  “It’s chilly here,” Martha said. “Let’s go to the arcades first.”

  “I want to read this now.” Zelda took the piece of paper from her handbag. She watched as a stream of people walked by, choosing her moment.

  “That story is ours,” Martha said. “When I wrote it down last night, I didn’t mean for it to be shared.”

  “I want to read something new,” Zelda said. “The Read and Run at the football ground was the final one from Blue Skies and Stormy Seas. I’ve given my last spare copy away. Mission accomplished.”

  Martha pursed her lips, knowing there was no point in arguing. She also noticed how her nana’s sore throat had miraculously vanished.

  There was a flea market held in the town each Sunday, and people flocked to it. Martha spotted Nora in a ruby-red velour tracksuit. She was holding hands with a tall handsome man who wore indigo jeans and a black shirt.

  Zelda coughed and looked around her, waiting for the optimum number of people to pass by. Martha stood with the kids and Owen.

  When a surge came towards them, Zelda spoke aloud. “This is a story that my family created together. It’s about a dragon who lives in Sandshift. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  People stared and walked past. Martha saw raised eyebrows, rolled eyes and smirks, yet Zelda carried on reading.

  A man carrying a Chihuahua stopped to listen. Two elderly women who wore matching plastic rain hoods took a seat on a nearby bench. A boy trundling past on a small bike tugged on his father’s sleeve and they paused, too. Others joined them, forming a loose circle around Zelda.

  Zelda told the story. She clawed her hands and spread her fingers. She brought the story to life with her actions and words.

  When she finished, she took a small bow. A round of applause started up, and her eyes shone as a few people dropped coins on the floor in front of her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you all very much.” She glanced down at the paper in her hands. There was nothing to leave behind this time. She looked up at Martha, her eyes and hands empty.

  “It’s okay. You’ve done it,” Martha assured her. “We have new stories now.”

  Zelda’s hands shook as she folded up the paper.

  “You were brilliant.” Rose bent down and bumped the top of Zelda’s arm with her own.

  “Pretty damn good,” Will admitted.

  Zelda found a smile. “Yes. I was, wasn’t I?” She put the story in her pocket.

  “Well done, Zelda.” Owen said. “Perhaps you’d like to do a reading at Chamberlain’s sometime?”

  Zelda broke into a gap-toothed grin. “That sounds ah-mazing.”

  “Great,” Owen said. “Well, I’ll head back to the shop now. Thanks for inviting me, and I’ll see you for that coffee soon, Martha.”

  Martha smiled. “I’m paying this time, though.”

  “Okay. I won’t argue.”

  Zelda staggered a little to the side, then caught her balance. “I enjoyed that, but I need a bloody sit-down before the arcades.”

  Martha caught her arm. “Come on, then. You’ve done far too much this weekend and I don’t want to be in trouble with Gina. Maybe we’ll give the arcades a miss.” She led her nana to a bench in a bus shelter.

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Zelda sighed.

  Martha’s mouth dropped open. “You actually agreed with me for once.”

  “I know. I’m not all bad.” Zelda winked.

  Martha watched as the flow of people on the promenade resumed. Nora spotted her and waved. The boy with the bike rode it away.

  But one person stood still, watching. Her blond hair danced in the breeze above the collar of her cream mohair jacket. Her eyes were pink-rimmed but set hard.

  Zelda tugged on Martha’s sleeve. “That woman is really staring at us. Do you know who she is?”

  “Oh no,” Will said with a groan. “It’s Mum.”

  30

  Father

  Lilian marched toward Martha, her coat flapping open. She clutched her handbag under her arm and her lips were puckered.

  Martha tried to find a smile but could see from Lilian’s set jaw that she wasn’t going to win one in return. Her feelings of positivity and happiness ebbed away.

  “Hi, Mum,” Rose said quietly.

  Lilian came to a halt. She stared at Zelda before focusing her attention on Martha. “What’s going on?” she asked Will and Rose. “You were surrounded by people on the promenade.”

  Martha inched forward. “We came over here for a day out.” She glanced at Zelda and silently urged her to stay put
.

  “Zelda wanted to read a story to everyone. That’s all.” Rose gave a small shrug.

  Lilian’s nostrils flared. She glared at Martha. “Zelda?”

  “I couldn’t change my arrangements.” Martha stepped forward. “You wanted to talk to Paul, and I wanted to see Nana. I told Will and Rose she’s a family friend. Nothing else.”

  Lilian balled her hands into fists. “I warned you,” she said. “You should have left that stupid old book alone. I said I didn’t want the kids to meet her.”

  Martha’s stomach turned over with guilt. “I’m sorry, but Zelda told me the story behind the book.”

  “About why she left?”

  “No. She’ll tell me in her own time, though.”

  “I don’t think so. She’s hidden it for so long.”

  People began to slow down around them, listening in. A middle-aged couple, who wore matching red anoraks and hiking boots, pretended to look at something on a phone, while their eyes were really trained on Lilian and Martha.

  Martha bit inside her mouth. “You know something, don’t you?” she said.

  Lilian looked away. “It’s up to her to tell you, not me.”

  “But how can she, when you won’t meet her? Let’s both speak to her now.”

  Lilian glared over at Zelda. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

  Martha gave a small nod.

  Will sidled up. “You okay, Mum?”

  “Fine,” she said sharply. “You and Rose, get your things, now. I’m taking you home.”

  “Our bags are still at Auntie Martha’s house...”

  “What’s wrong, Mum?” Rose asked.

  “This is what’s wrong.” Lilian pointed at Will and then Rose. “I expected Martha to look after you both, not bring you here with your crazy great-grandmother.”

  Will’s and Rose’s eyes widened and slid over toward Zelda. She sat in the bus shelter, twirling her thumbs.

  “Zelda is our...what?” Will said.

  “Why didn’t you tell us, Auntie Martha?” Rose asked.