Book Woman

by Ivan B

  Jenny’s face turned into a snarl.

  “Well don’t think you’re living here.”

  “We’ll live where we damn well please.”

  Mary squiggled herself onto her stool, Jenny casually looked around.

  “Might not be a good place for little girls, little girls who live here develop nightmares.”

  Without warning Mary launched herself from the stool and pinioned Jenny against the work-top collecting her electric carving knife along the way. She moved the carving knife towards Jenny’s throat and Jenny made an ineffectual chop to Mary’s right knee, encountering the knee brace, but no flesh. Mary held the knife close to Jenny’s throat and momentarily pressed the ‘on’ button, the knife made a gentle humming sound. She snarled.

  “If you ever come near my Josie so help me I’ll cut you head off, do you understand?”

  For the very first time Mary saw fear in Jenny’s eyes, she muttered.

  “Just conversation sis, just conversation.”

  Helen’s voice suddenly rang out, full of command and motherhood.

  “Just what are you two up to, can’t I leave you alone for a minute!”

  Mary backed off and put the carving knife back into its charging unit, Jenny sub-consciously rubbed her throat. Mary hissed.

  “You’d better go, and don’t think your getting an invitation to the wedding, I’d rather ask Rasputin.”

  Jenny, trying to regain some of her dignity, walked towards the front door.

  “I’d refuse anyway, just invite me to the divorce.”

  The front door slammed and Helen looked at Mary.

  “So finally the worm turns.”

  Mary gave a weak smile and leaned against the stool, she was shaking all over.

  “She threatened Josie.”

  Helen smiled.

  “Well she won’t do that again in a hurry, will she?”

  The following morning Mary and Robert turned up at the Council offices after having had coffee together to finalise their strategy. Within minutes they were shown into a small meeting room and a young red-headed woman in an apology for a dress came and sat with them. She gave a false smile, the sort reserved for batty old ladies.

  “Hi, I’m Angela Bates and I handle appeals, but we’re going to be observed today by Mrs Church, who is exercising her right as councillor to sit in.”

  Mary nodded and Robert leaned forward.

  “But the decision is yours.”

  Angela didn’t bat an eyelid.

  “Probably, but your lease is unusual and on a major property in a part of the town that has Grade III listing in parts, so I might have to refer the appeal to the full council.”

  Robert nodded.

  “I thought the council devolved day to day decisions like that to individual councillors.”

  Angela nodded.

  “Mrs Church at the moment is chair of the planning committee and she might handle it herself.”

  Mary almost groaned; instead she smiled.

  “Wouldn’t that be a bit incestuous as she is the one pressing to have a public library?”

  Angela gave a brilliant smile exposing a set of teeth that any news presenter would have died for.

  “Of course not, there is no reason why the town couldn’t have your private lending library and a public library, after all you wouldn’t be in direct competition.”

  Mary began to fear the worst. Mrs Church entered and Robert stood up. She was mid-fifties, possible older, wearing a tartan dress and having jet black hair. However, her most noticeable asset was her height, she must have been over six feet in bare feet and with her heeled shoes towered above everybody. She flashed a smile.

  “Don’t mind me, I’m just observing.”

  She sat in a corner and pulled out a notebook. Angela looked at Mary.

  “I see you’re appealing against both rent and rate increases and I’ll deal with both, which would you like to start with?”

  Mary passed over a sheet of paper.

  “Rates. You’re proposing a rate increase because you say we’re operating a business and not a public service. However, the restrictions in your lease forbid me to operate the Internet Café before nine and after six, not on Wednesday afternoons, not on a Sunday and not on any Public Holiday. You can’t have it both ways, either I am allowed to run a commercial business, or you dictate the terms, if you dictate the terms I can’t be expected to pay the rates at the level you set.”

  Angela smiled.

  “I’m afraid the lease has nothing to do with the rates. The lease is with the property development department and the rates with the finance office. And you do work in the heritage zone.”

  Robert leant forward

  “So does the supermarket, but you allow them to open seven days a week from seven in the morning to eleven at night.”

  Angela gave a professional smile.

  “Ah, but they sell food.”

  Mary smiled.

  “I’ve read that clause in the lease. Am I right in saying that if my book-shop sold Eastburgh fudge or tins of Kendal Mint Cake the restrictions wouldn’t apply?”

  Angela blinked and was temporarily fazed, Mrs Church butted in.

  “You’d have to get the agreement of all the other shops that sell those goods within the heritage area.”

  Mary leant back and smirked.

  “Actually I was thinking of dehydrated Aberdeen Herring, I don’t think anybody sells that, not even the delicatessen.”

  Mrs Church did a double take.

  “But that’s not in the spirit of the lease.”

  “Neither is winding up the rates on the Internet Café when there isn’t another one for thirty miles and which the council crow about in their latest town brochure as being, and I quote, ‘a major public amenity for the town.’”

  Mary and Mrs Church sat glaring at each other and then Angela intervened, let’s move on to the rent for a moment. We’ve been putting up all the rents, so why should you get preferential treatment?”

  Mary smiled.

  “I’m not seeking preferential treatment, merely a refund. For fifteen years you’ve charged us for rent on ten storage rooms, but you gave us access to only eight, thus I think we’re entitled to a considerable refund.”

  Angela looked bewildered, Robert passed over a copy of the blueprints.

  “See for yourself, the centre rooms have no doors, hell of a building error.”

  Angela eyed the blueprints.

  “We on earth would we do that?”

  Mary shrugged.

  “Come and see if you like.”

  Angela fingered the blueprints.

  “If what you say is true…”

  Mrs Church butted in.

  “Can’t see it makes any difference, your rent is for the job lot of book-shop and the second and third stories minus the restaurant. If you’ve chosen not to access the rooms that’s your problem not ours.”

  Robert feigned surprise.

  “You mean we can knock the inside around?”

  Angela shot forward.

  “Only on the third floor, the ballroom must stay as it is with the shelving as removable temporary structures.”

  Mary nodded.

  “Another restriction, I could put the shelves closer together and the architect here,” she patted Robert. “Assures my I could double the number of books.”

  Mrs Church sighed.

  “We’re obviously getting nowhere.”

  Mary decided to go in for the pièce de résistance, she leant back in her chair and looked at Mrs Church.

  “Rumour has it your council is being chased by the Bank of England for a large amount of gold.”

  Mrs Church’s face momentarily registered surprise and she snarled at Angela.

  “I told you this place leaked like a sieve.”

  She turned to Mary.

  “Where did you hear this?”

  Mary merely smiled and inspected the fingernails on her right hand.

&n
bsp; “Birds tweeting.”

  Mrs Church went to make a retort and Robert moved his body to gain attention.

  “Can we talk political deals for a moment and not rent/rate appeals?”

  Mrs Church scowled and gave Angela a glare, she stood up, but Mary intervened.

  “I’d like a witness if you don’t mind.”

  Angela sat down and looked utterly mystified. Robert drew an imaginary circle on the table. “Let’s talk hypothetical deals. We want reasonable rent and rates, nothing else, no special favours, just reasonable. We’d like you to ditch the idea of a public library and save the public’s money by providing a reference section in the Tattledon library; it would be a nice example of a public/private partnership. We would like permission, this week, to install a single person lift in the main stairwell and support to obtain a disability access grant. And we would like permission to increase the floor-loading in the ballroom to give more shelf space, especially if you’re going to give us reference books.” He paused. “And it return we might be able to tell you how to get the Council off of the hook with the Bank of England and solve a fifty year old mystery, and don’t say there isn’t a mystery as the beaches are crawling with metal detector nerds as we speak.”

  Mary leaned back.

  “On the other hand Mrs Church you could go down as the council leader who presided over the biggest financial crisis in the town’s history.”

  Mrs Church eyed them suspiciously.

  “Hypothetically speaking, what guarantee do I have that you have the answer I want to hear?”

  Robert smiled.

  “Trust your instincts.”

  They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Mrs Church muttered to herself.

  “Just buying a reference library makes sense, especially if I don’t have to pay for staff to man it.”

  Mary sighed.

  “No, just a contribution towards my staff costs to man it on your behalf.”

  Mrs Church grimaced and looked at Robert.

  “And you’re sure about the floor loading?”

  “Get you own architects to check.”

  “We will, don’t worry about that.” She muttered.

  There was silence again and then Mrs Church became decisive, she looked at Angela.

  “Withdraw the rate and rent increase letters and reconsider in the light of the new council policy of placing a reference library in the Tattledon Library and the fact that the Internet café is a public amenity.”

  Angela opened her mouth to speak and Mrs Church rapidly butted in.

  “It will become policy, I’ve already got several members chuntering about the cost of a public library and this will appease them while giving the town extra amenity of a reference library.”

  Mary was staggered at the woman’s ability to do a u-turn.

  She looked at Robert.

  “You know the procedure, I see you often enough, put in your planning application for the single-person lift and I’ll deal with it as a matter of expediency. The floor-loading application will have to go through the normal channels, but if our architect says you’re right I’ll back it.”

  She turned to Mary and gave a crooked smile.

  “Now young lady, just what have you got?”

  Mary stood up.

  “I think you’d better meet me in the library in an hour , and bring one of those secure money-vans with you.”

  Mrs Church’s face lit up.

  “Don’t tell me you actually know where the gold is?”

  Mary placed a gold coin on the desk.

  “Exhibit one m’lord.”

  Angela made a peculiar grunt cum hiccup sound.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  She picked up the coin.

  “Is this real?”

  “Verified by the Bank of England.”

  Mary expertly took the coin off Angela.

  “One hour at the library, oh and I’d wear something less flimsy.”

  Chapter 21

  Clear-up

  Fifty-five minutes later Mrs Church and Angela, now dressed in breast hugging pink top and a pair of amazingly skin-tight red slacks, arrived and made their way up to the library. Mary looked up from her desk and Mrs Church indicated to the tall granite-faced man with her.

  “Mr Clarke, Council Leader.”

  Mary smiled.

  “Is that leader as in leader of Mrs Church’s political party or leader as in chairman?”

  He gave a hint of a grin.

  “Leader as in chairperson. And I must say I’m intrigued as to how you got your gold coin.”

  Mary sent a text message on her mobile phone and walked round her desk.

  “Well, you’d better follow me then.”

  They all trooped out of the library watched by a curious Charlotte and made their way to the stairwell to meet Robert coming down the stairs. Mary tucked her left arm through Robert’s arm and they started to climb the stairs. Robert casually remarked to Mrs Church.

  “This is why we need the singleton lift, council owned building without disabled access to the top floor for staff and all that.”

  She merely grunted. At the top Mary held them at the end of the corridor.

  “Behold the corridor, as you can see there are only four proper doors on each side whereas there are five dormer windows on the outside.”

  She turned to Mr Clarke.

  “This is not a design error, it is deliberate. The Council gave Mr Tattledon a set of plans when he took the lease fifteen years ago, they clearly show five rooms each side and five doors, but plans from the records office show five rooms with four doors, thus the corridor has two deliberately hidden rooms.”

  They walked to the break-through opening and Mr Clarke and Mrs Church peered in, she muttered.

  “Oh my it’s like a 1950s film set.”

  Robert tapped a filing cabinet.

  “They are full of plans for most buildings in Eastburgh and surrounding district, including a plan of this building, which shows five rooms each side with each middle room sealed off.”

  Mr Clark looked round.

  “How did you originally get in?”

  “I came through the hatch in the floor, Mary came in through the window.”

  Mrs Church wandered over and looked out, her eyebrows rose.

  “You walked along that narrow parapet?”

  Mary merely smiled.

  Robert leant against the desk.

  “My guess is a war-room prepared during the cold war.”

  Mr Clark chuckled.

  “You mean a lost war-room. We knew we had one, the Home Office had set it up pending our council coming up with a permanent location, but all the plans given to us by the Home Office were in out bunker under Landguard Fort at Felixstowe. That was flooded out in the 1953 floods and the plans were ruined, everybody assumed that was somewhere in the complex of tunnels surrounding Landguard Fort was this temporary war-room. Nobody every considered it might not be underground.”

  Mary laughed.

  “You’re not telling me that nobody knew!”

  He shrugged.

  “Of course the government knew, but the council at that time was too embarrassed to ask, then in the 1960s, when we had finally managed to construct a concrete bunker near Ipswich, we found that the government department concerned had been reorganised and downsized, so by the time we did ask…”

  Robert tapped the last filing cabinet.

  “Bottom drawer, just as we found them.”

  Angela crouched down and opened the drawer, Mrs Church gasped.

  “So they’ve been here all this time.”

  Mr Clarke nodded and sent a text message from his mobile phone. He then picked up the top tray of coins and looked underneath.

  “Looks like they’re all here, except for the one missing from the top tray, I guess that’s the one Freda told me you had.” He held out his hand and Mary dutifully passed the coin over, still in plastic pouch, just as two smartly dres
sed security men in hard-helmets arrived. He slipped the coin from pouch to tray and the men took them away. He nodded across the corridor.

  “What’s in there?”

  Robert grinned and handed him a lump hammer.

  “Shall we dance? Aim for the spot I’ve marked on the wall, don’t worry we’ve done this before and it doesn’t take much, they used a deliberately weak mortar.”

  They pounded the wall and after a very few thumps the centre of the doorway fell through, two minutes later there was a hole big enough to walk through and Angela turned up her nose.

  “Grief, what a pong.”

  Mr Clark entered the room through the opening and immediately turned to Angela.

  “Can you call the police, we have some guns here.”

  He gave Robert a fierce look.

  “As soon as you knew you should have handed these in.”

  Robert shrugged in reply.

  “I rather thought that they’d been there for over fifty years so a few extra days wouldn’t matter, in any case we’ve only just taken the wall down.”

  Mr Clarke nodded.

  “What’s in the chests?”

  Robert shrugged again.

  “Had a quick snout, but I think it’s blankets and hammocks.”

  Mary interrupted.

  “What do you want us to do with all this stuff? Take it to the rubbish dump?”

  Mr Clake looked appalled.

  “Don’t even think about it. I’d want to get the plans removed to a safe place and then call in the museum, they may want to replicate this set-up in their basement exhibition on modern history.”

  Mary sighed.

  “But I pay money to rent these rooms from the Council and if I can’t use them while you’re seeking to mothball the stuff…”

  Mr Clarke scowled.

  “I’ve heard about your rent appeal, I’ll ensure you have a reduction while we clear up this mess.”

  Mary grinned.

  “And the last fifteen years?”

  Mrs Church scowled and muttered.

  “Just don’t push your luck young lady!”

  Mr Clarke opened a chest and started to lift out blankets, he’d lifted out a fair few when he stopped and turned again to Angela.

  “And you’d better call the bomb squad, there’s live ammunition here.”

  He turned to Mary.

  “Do you want to close the library?”