The Library of Lost and Found

by Phaedra Patrick

  Martha shivered. She wrapped her arms across her body and stood shaking on the sand.

  A red setter dog ran past the entrance of the cave and paused to stare at her. “Billy,” a voice shouted and Martha quickly stepped backwards, toward the rear of the cave. She stayed there, looking up at the long black slit in the rocks. She imagined a flash of turquoise as Zelda’s skirt disappeared through it, and her hand playfully grabbing the air.

  “Billy.” The voice came again, closer now, and the dog wandered farther into the cave. It sniffed at the seaweed that lined part of the floor like a carpet. The dog owner’s red anorak came into view.

  Not wanting to be seen, Martha raised her foot and climbed the rocks leading up to the slit. They were slippery and wet to her touch. Even though she hadn’t done this for over thirty years, her feet knew what to do and where to go.

  “There you are, Billy. Good dog.”

  Martha slipped through the gap and into the hollow on the other side.

  There was no underground lagoon here today, just a small pool of water. Martha listened out and heard the person and the dog moving away. She sank to the floor, not caring that the sand was wet. She cradled her head in her hands and tried to block out the thoughts that made her temples ache, about who was to blame for all this mess, hurt and confusion. Was it Zelda’s fault for leaving? Or her father for declaring her dead to the family? Was it her mother for being weak-willed? Or even Lilian for not sharing with Martha that she knew something?

  Perhaps it’s ultimately my own fault, for not being brave enough to follow Joe, Martha thought. I could have had a different life.

  A better one.

  Leaning forward until her forehead touched the sand, Martha sat there, furled like a fern leaf, with her hands over her ears. She rubbed her fingertips into her hair as she let her tears flow. When she cried out loud, her sobs echoed inside the cave and it sounded like a dragon roaring.

  * * *

  Sometime later, Martha sat up straight, unsure if she’d fallen asleep or not. The cave had grown dark and she blinked, trying to adjust her eyes. He back was stiff and she felt something lap, wet, against her outer thigh. Raising her head, she watched a stream of water, snakelike on the floor of the cave, trickling toward her. Her eyes followed the silvery trail, along and upwards, to where it spilled down the rocks, a slim waterfall.

  She got to her feet, not being able to feel them. After stamping away the numbness, she stepped over the water and made her way back toward the slit in the rocks. A sense of foreboding hummed inside her, as she grew closer and saw what was happening.

  The tide was coming in.

  She immediately reached up and grabbed onto the rocks. Struggling to find a foothold, she managed to wrench herself up and across to the edge of the slit. Straining her neck, she peered through to the other side.

  And she gave a sharp intake of breath.

  Instead of the familiar igloo-like room of the cave, empty with a sandy floor, it was now half-full of water. The sea sloshed around inside it.

  Martha inched back. She tried not to think of the horrors of her recurring dream of being surrounded by the sea, but her heart beat so fast she thought she might faint.

  Think, Martha, think.

  She tried to estimate the depth of the water in the cave. If she was lucky, she could wade out. If she was unlucky, then she’d have to swim.

  As the quicksilver waves crashed and glided away, her stomach churned with fear. She imagined the Sandshift Seven, their noses and mouths thick with salt water as they pawed at the water.

  She spotted her and Joe’s initials, white against the dark wall. He had stood on his tiptoes to scratch them there. The sea almost touched the bottom of the letters.

  Martha knew that her only way out was to get into the water.

  She jutted out her chin, ready for action, then hurriedly took off her shoes. Her coat felt heavy as she tugged it off, and she delved a hand into its pocket. When she pulled out her Wonder Woman notepad, the cartoon superhero grinned at her with a scarlet smirk. She reminded Martha of the life she’d chosen, to be of service to others.

  Letting out a frustrated cry, she flung the notepad with all her might. Wonder Woman and her lasso spun through the air. The pad hung in the air for a moment before splashing into the sea.

  Martha placed her coat and shoes high above her head, on a shelf in the rocks. Tears streamed down her face as she tentatively lowered her foot into the water. The sea slapped against her toes, then her calf and knee. She held on to the rocks, wincing at the coldness, before she let herself go.

  She crashed into the water and felt the sea maul at her clothes.

  She pointed her feet into tiptoes, to try to reach the bottom, but couldn’t feel anything beneath her. The white surf surged and when Martha managed to swim her way out of the cave, she was met with a frightening sight. Miles of sea stretched in front of her.

  She didn’t see a wave coming at her, its grayness bubbling and rearing up. There was a roar, then a few moments of silence, as it broke then crashed over her head. It raked her hair with its icy fingers and pulled her under.

  Martha resurfaced. She coughed, spluttered and shook her head. Disorientated, she tried to get her bearings. But another wave engulfed her, causing her to flounder in its midst. Sea salt stung her eyes and she watched as her notepad bobbed on the waves, a few meters away.

  Retrieving it suddenly felt like the most important thing in her world. She had been okay when she had her tasks to focus on. She had a purpose, an anchor. And now that was gone. She’d tried to make changes to her life and they hadn’t worked.

  I just want my old life back.

  She reached out for the notepad, but her effort felt feeble and the sea took the pad farther away. Martha watched as it bobbed and swirled into the distance, and she reluctantly let it go.

  She now had to focus on trying to swim towards the mermaid statue. But the water had its own agenda. A riptide pulled her in the opposite direction, out towards the jut of rocks and the lighthouse.

  A wave came at her with the force of a brick wall falling down, so she no longer knew which direction she was facing. The sea tried to suck her under and tears burst, fearfully, from her eyes.

  She tried to call for help but each time she opened her mouth, the sea gushed down her throat. It expanded in her mouth like dough. She tried to wave, but her hand splashed weakly against the tide.

  Beginning to lose her fight and strength, Martha closed her eyes. Zelda appeared in her head, with her gappy smile and kind eyes. She half sobbed and half retched at this image of her nana.

  She’d expected Zelda to save her from life. To be her fairy godmother again. And now she had no one.

  She imagined the sailors from the Pegasus below her, on the sea bed, staring up at her kicking feet. Their blue hands might reach up and pull her toward them. Daniel could be down there, waiting for her.

  The thought took hold and stuck in her brain.

  Would it be so bad, to join him under the waves?

  Perhaps it’s best to stop fighting.

  Would anyone even care?

  Martha let her kicks dwindle, allowing herself to be at the mercy of the sea. She no longer tried to swim.

  She felt herself sink. The water covered her ears then the top of her head, welcoming her to its darkness.

  It was calmer under the surface, her ears plugged. Martha’s skirt floated up around her body like large petals on a flower, closing when daylight ends. A strange feeling of peace engulfed her and she readied herself for her feet to touch the bottom. She opened her eyes and looked up, to say goodbye to the sky.

  A dark shape on the surface moved over her, like a shark, obscuring her view. She saw a shadow moving down, reaching for her. Something fastened tight around her wrist.

  She tried to wriggle, to remove it, but
it remained firm.

  The something pulled at her arm with such force that Martha yelped and water flooded her mouth again. She gagged and felt her body tug upwards, until the top of her head broke the surface. Yellow light blared in her eyes as a beam from the lighthouse swept over her. She tried to shake the thing from her wrist but it tightened even further.

  Arms crushed around her back and she didn’t fight them. Her cheeks scraped against wood, and then her chest and stomach, as she was lifted out of the sea. She saw a person, a beard and woolen hat in silhouette. Moonlight reflected in a set of determined eyes.

  Then Martha felt her body and the back of her head hit against the deck of a boat.

  And the last thing she saw was the moon in the navy sky, shining like a silver bottle top. Like a giant’s waistcoat button.

  34

  Lighthouse

  When Martha next opened her eyes, she saw black-and-white checkered linoleum in close-up. She was surrounded by pale-blue kitchen units and her forehead was pressed against a table leg. She heard a door slam and saw boots and a man standing over her. His coat almost reached his ankles.

  Siegfried.

  She watched as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Martha tried to move her limbs, but her clothes were wet and heavy, pinning her down. A large puddle of water encircled her and she instinctively tried to mop it up using her hands. “Sorry,” she spluttered. “I’m making a mess of your floor.”

  She felt a weight fall on top of her legs and saw two folded gray towels. She reached down with one hand and pulled them towards her. Clutching them under her chin, she eased herself onto her knees. She was so sapped of strength she had to use the back of a chair to help her, to get to her feet.

  She was dripping from everywhere, her nose, her fingertips, and water trickled down the back of her neck. Her throat crackled with salt water. With her body jerking uncontrollably from the cold, she weakly shook open a towel and wrapped it around her like a cloak. She used the other towel to wipe her face. “How long was I there for?”

  “Not sure.” Siegfried was soaking wet, too. His clothes clung to him like a shroud. “Hospital?” he asked.

  She shook her head, not wanting to face anyone. She was shivery and wet, and wanted to be alone. “I think I’ll be okay,” she spluttered.

  “Hmm.” He stared at her for what seemed like a long time. “Wait here.” He trudged towards a room at the back of the kitchen.

  Martha took this time to make a hood out of her second towel. As she rubbed her hair, she could feel that her glittery slide was missing.

  When Siegfried reappeared, he was wearing fresh clothes, gray tracksuit bottoms, a hooded top and a dry woolen hat. He pointed towards a spiral staircase in the middle of the room and crooked his finger.

  Martha’s legs shook as she walked slowly towards the stairs, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. She held out her hands for balance. When she looked upwards, the staircase structure looked like the cross-section of a nautilus shell.

  Her feet splatted and squelched on the wooden treads as she followed Siegfried. He moved quickly upwards, but Martha clung to the handrail, afraid that her legs might give way. Her limbs felt concrete-heavy as she climbed.

  When she felt sure they must be close to the top of the lighthouse, Siegfried stopped and opened a door.

  Martha looked down, behind her, at the pools of water she’d left behind on each step. “I need to dry your stairs.”

  He didn’t say anything and pointed into a room.

  She stepped inside and saw a single bed. A small lamp shone on a bedside table.

  “Rest.” Siegfried pulled the door closed behind him. She heard him head back downstairs, leaving her alone.

  Martha stood for a while, her body still swaying from the movement of the sea. Unsteadily, she walked over to a large curved window and looked out at the dark sky. Below, the sea was beetle-black and strangely calm. It was wide and free and didn’t look deadly at all. She picked at her crusty eyelashes with her thumb and forefinger. Her first instinct was that she couldn’t stay here. She had to get back home.

  But then she questioned, what for?

  To return to an empty house?

  To face Lilian’s and Zelda’s lies?

  And she couldn’t leave, dressed like this. The tide was in, too, cutting the lighthouse off from the mainland.

  She listened as Siegfried’s footsteps faded out of earshot.

  Spotting that she was dripping onto the floorboards, Martha sidestepped onto a rug. Across the room, she saw an en-suite bathroom and made a dash for it. When she switched on the light inside, it hurt her eyes. She turned it back off and got undressed in the dark. Her wet clothes made a sucking sound as she peeled them off.

  After folding them loosely, she dropped them into the bottom of the shower cubicle. Then, on her hands and knees, she crawled back into the bedroom, using a towel to dry the trail of water she’d left behind.

  On the bed, she found a folded white toweling dressing gown and pulled it on. The fabric was fluffy against her water-wrinkled skin and she gave a small groan of relief. Wondering when Siegfried last hosted anyone to stay, she towel-dried her hair and sat down. The bed rocked under her weight, momentarily reminding her of the shift of the waves. She fought against the tears that welled inside her. Her body began to quake, as if the sea was churning in her belly.

  She let her body fall, resting her cheek on the pillow and relishing its softness. She closed her eyes and imagined she was a child again, with Zelda’s fingers walking through her hair. Reaching up, she made to brush them away. She didn’t want them there, not now. But the feeling came again, as if her nana was in the same room, looking over her.

  Martha tucked her knees up and bit her lip. She tried not to sob into Siegfried’s sheets, but she couldn’t stop tears spilling from her eyes, for what might have been, the life she could have had. One filled with love.

  Time slipped and shifted around her and when she raised her head, she had no idea what hour it was, but the sky outside was jet black. She rubbed her nose and dabbed her cheeks with her fingers. She closed her eyes and tried not to think of the sea surrounding her. Slowly, she fell into a deep sleep.

  * * *

  When she opened her eyes again, she frowned as she took in her view. The curtains were open and the sky was a powder blue outside. Everything was lighter and brighter. The room was circular and painted white with naive gray swoops to represent seagulls.

  On top of a white wooden chair by the window lay a pile of clothes, neatly folded into large squares. There was a pair of glittery sandals on top. Some items were her own, and there were others, too.

  As she blinked against the hazy sunlight, there was a knock on the door. It made her jump and she pulled her covers up to her chin. “Hello,” she called out.

  The door opened and the toes of Siegfried’s boots, and then his hat, appeared.

  He didn’t look at her as he walked over and placed a tray down on top of a small low table, next to her bed. There was a large white bowl with a lid and she could smell tomato soup. Raising herself a little she saw a cube of butter and thick slices of bread on a saucer. Steam spiraled from a huge mug of golden tea.

  Martha suddenly found herself ravenously hungry and her stomach growled.

  “Eat,” Siegfried said.

  Martha inched her way onto her elbows before she sat up. Every bit of her body felt like it had been through a mangle. “How long was I asleep for?”

  “Thirty-six.”

  “Hours?” Martha frowned. “No. That can’t be right.”

  Siegfried gave a small shrug. He moved back to the door and closed it behind him. She heard him move away.

  “Thirty-six hours?” Martha whispered as she positioned the tray on her lap. She took the lid off the bowl and the stea
m from the soup warmed her face.

  She savored it for a while, then plunged in her spoon. The tomatoes tasted tangy and sweet. She tore the bread and the thick butter tasted divine. The warm tea soothed her tight throat.

  You were lucky, she told herself. You might have drowned. Then you’d never have tried Siegfried’s soup. She gave a small laugh at such a random thought, and she liked the sound it made.

  She ate slowly, savoring every mouthful, and when she’d finished, she placed the tray back on the bedside table. She got out of bed and her legs wavered as she walked over to the window. The sea was a shimmering blanket of petrol blue and diamonds seemed to shine on its surface. It was beautiful. She searched through the pile of clothes on the chair, recognizing they were ones Suki wore.

  Too tired to think how they got there, she returned to the bed. She sank back into it slowly, wondering what to do now she was awake. She tried to think back, to Zelda and the Storm family revelations, but her brain wouldn’t let her. It shifted its focus away, making her thoughts flit around.

  Running her hand through her hair, she found it was encrusted with salt. The skin on her cheeks was tight. More than anything she wanted to take a hot bath, to wash away all the traces of the sea.

  She sat for a few moments, this longing overtaking her until she couldn’t think of anything else.

  Standing up, she fastened her robe firmly around her waist and left the room. She clung onto the bannister and made her way down the staircase to the next level down. It was a sitting room with a log-burning stove and comfortable-looking brown leather sofas. It had old black-and-white photos of ships on the walls and a big black frame with a display of knots in it.

  On the next floor down from that, she found a bright, white bathroom. It had terra-cotta floor tiles and a towel warmer that looked like a silver ladder.

  A strange clattering noise sounded from the bottom of the next flight of stairs down, and she could hear muffled music from a radio.