Book Woman Read online

  Book Woman

  Ivan B

  Published: 2010

  Tag(s): "Novel" "Romance" ""Interpersonal Relationships" "Rehabilitation"

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publically performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was obtained of as strictly applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Published by barlebooks.net©2010

  Cover image courtesy of Dorling Kindersley (www.dkimages.com)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Everything nicely in order

  Mary watched her boss, John Tattledon, as he stood looking out of the library window while the bright yellow open-topped tour bus pulled up below. This was his morning routine during the summer as he lied to listen to the ever changing patter of the Australian guide. Her voice boomed out, echoing off the buildings each side of the road.

  “We are now at the sea end of Eastburgh High Street and you will immediately notice that all the shop fronts on both sides are of the same dark wood double-fronted bow-window design. The shops at this end of the high street were all built in the mid-1950s to the design of the original late 1920s buildings that were severely damaged during the Second World War. Each side of the street is a mirror image of the other and all twenty-two of the shop fronts are now protected by law. Originally above ten of the shops on the South was the Regent Theatre and that has now become the four screen Regent Cinema. If you look at the middle shop front you will notice that it is the entrance to the cinemas as well as a sweet shop. The last, and most seaward, shop on that side is an outdoor clothing and hardware store that has been there since the buildings were first completed in 1927 and that occupies the shop front and the two floors above. On the North side above the shops in the council’s original layout was the Palace ballroom and that has now become the Tattledon Library. This is one of the few private lending libraries in the country and now also incorporates a state of the art Internet café. Above that are some storerooms and a flat, however in the mirror image across the street the third story above the cinemas is a façade to allow for the extra height of the Theatre and its sloping floor. Entrance to the library is at the rear of Eastburgh’s only independent book-shop, which is directly opposite the cinema entrance. The end shop on that side is the famous Eastburgh tea-rooms and restaurant that again occupies all three floors and that is well worth a visit if you have the time; not only for the spectacular sea views, but also for the excellent Suffolk scones. We will now go down the steep short hill to the sea front, where , like most East coast seaside resorts, you will see on your left….”

  Mary watched John smile at the part about the library, which was not unsurprising as it was his pride and joy. She checked the clock and relaxed, there were ten minutes to opening time and everything, including the Internet terminals, was ready for the public to pour in. Not that the public every actually poured in, after all this was a library and not a supermarket. She returned her attention to the computer screen in front of her where she was trying to compose the next three months staff rota. This was proving to be a living nightmare as John insisted on employing mainly part-time staff. That meant on any day there could be as many as nine part-timers all working different shifts. Multiply that by six days a week and add in holidays, child-care and goodness knows what else, and it became a fearsome and weary task. But she would crack it.

  Ten minutes later Bella, the dumpy blonde internet café manager and only other full time library staff sat at her desk at the entrance to the Internet Café and gazed down the library. She’d been here three weeks and already decided that she’d entered a parallel universe. She knew the buildings were built in the 1950s, but the library wasn’t any more modern, if you discounted the café. The actual library itself covered the area over four shops to the west of the entrance and must have been the old ballroom. Instead of proper shelves it had self-standing double-sided shelf units made of unvarnished wood that had been placed on plywood slabs laid on the old ballroom floor. Labelling was by hand-written signs and the few chairs that there were scattered around were of the hard wood upright variety. The only splash of décor was the old ballroom glitter ball that still hung from the ceiling. In stark contrast beyond the library and over the fifth shop was a huge children’s library complete with it’s own Internet area plus ball-pool and slide for the very young. She swung round to look at the Internet Café, the terminals were spread round the walls and she guessed that it covered the area of the four shops to the east of the entrance. In the centre were a few well worn wooden tables and some more basic chairs that made up the reading area. She glanced over to the reception desk that she assumed had once been the actual bar counter and wondered for the umpteenth time how old John was; certainly over sixty, possibly over seventy. She’d never seen him in anything other than his faded green tweed suit, pale green shirt and dark green tie with its frog and toad motif. She smiled to herself, with his old-fashioned attire, mop of grey hair, wrinkled face and double chin he looked more like a benevolent grandfather than library powerhouse.

  The morning wore on and Bella wondered if she was already bored with the job, but it was a job and full-time jobs for people like her were hard to come by. During a lull, and to relieve her growing boredom, she replayed a video clip that her sister had found on the internet. Obviously filmed from a mobile phone in a garden centre greenhouse it started off concentrating on a young girl who was trying to get a parrot to speak to her. After a few seconds the phone rapidly swung round to show a huge pile of large terracotta pots, two seconds later someone fell through the greenhouse roof into the pile of pots. It was very fast, one moment a pile of pots, the next a huge crash, loads of dust and numerous screams. The video clip showed the last part again in slow motion. The resolution was terrible, but the falling figure silhouetted against the blue sky dropped like a stone into the pots. She sat back and read the video title; ‘Mary Webb ending her parachute jump the hard way.’ Bella look across the library to watch Mary heave herself up and walk across the library in her unusual rolling gait and wondered if it was the same Mary. The video was too indistinct to tell and in any case Mary, apart from her odd walk, had few distinctive features being medium height, neither fat or thin and not particularly attractive, although her dark brown hair has well cut. Her face was often drawn into a tight-lipped smile and dominated by her blue eyes, but her nose was too pointed and her cheeks too flabby. However, what made Bella almost sure it was the same person was Mary’s one conspicuous feature that one no- one ever talked about; the small silver hook in place of an absent left hand. Bella decided to attack the video clip to see if she could find a date, or any external links where there might be more information.

  By late afternoon Mary thought she had actually cracked the next three months rota. She glanced at Bella and mentally frowned. She ambled over to the café to perch on the edge of Bella’s desk.

  “Finding it a bit tiring today?”

  Bella changed from a slouching position to something more upright.

  “Sorry Mary.”

  Mary sat down next to her.

  “It is tiring at first, but you will get used to it. Look, go home, I’ll finish up here, there’s only an hour to go.”

  Bella gave a grateful smile, picked
up her shoulder-bag and made for the exit. Mary surveyed the management screen and sighed, as she suspected those two spotty teenage boys were trying to get round the pornographic filter software. Their body language had told her that and Bella had been too tired to notice.

  The library closed at six and John looked up as Mary flopped down into her chair.

  “Was that a sales rep I saw you with earlier?” He muttered.

  Mary sighed and pointed to some books on the table.

  “Not a waste of time, she had some excellent children’s books and another batch of doctor-and-nurse romances.”

  John nodded and then waved as the last staff member exited down the escalator. He ran his hand over his non existent hair.

  “Did Bella leave early?”

  “Just a bit.”

  John shot her a worried look.

  “I employed her to keep the Internet Café running while I am away, but she runs out of energy before the end of the day, that is not good.”

  Mary tried for a reassuring smile.

  “She’ll be OK. She’s got the technical skills and she’s conquering her illness. Give her another few weeks and she’ll be a lot better. She’s a good catch. She just needs time to adjust to the world of work.”

  John stood up.

  “Well it will be your problem, not mine. I’m off and I’ll see you again in three months.”

  Mary glanced at the clock.

  “When’s your flight?”

  “Nine, but it’s from Norwich, change at Amsterdam and Singapore, so I’ve plenty of time.”

  Mary took his master key from him.

  “Well have a good flight, don’t worry everything is nicely in order here, and give my regards to your daughter.”

  He gave her an anxious look.

  “You will be OK?”

  She gave him a wicked grin.

  “If I’m not I’ll sell all the stock off and turn the place into a night-club – now go!”

  He went to leave and paused.

  “Forgot to say, the council architect wants to look at the basement, something to do with the sump-pump. Anyway the building plans are in the bottom drawer of the second filing cabinet.”

  Mary rolled her eyes.

  “I know, now goodbye!”

  John gave her a casual wave and exited via the stairs. Mary looked around the deserted building, for the first time in six years she was in sole charge and she was relishing the prospect.

  Chapter 2

  Roll with the punches

  Bella arrived the following day to find Mary preparing the library for opening. Bella gave her a wave and settled down to work; this time she was determined to finish the whole day. Mary waved back and resumed her morning duties of getting the library ready for occupation by the public; this mainly involved turning lights on, opening windows, and, in the summer, encouraging the recalcitrant ceiling fans into operation. Mary sat down and studied the outstanding invoices; she’d been running the accounts for five years and knew that the library was making money, but less year on year. This was mainly due to the fact that John would not put up the hire charges or increase the fines whereas the rent set by the council increased year on year. She’d tackled John on the subject, but got absolutely nowhere; it some ways he was an astute manager, but in others he had definite blind spots. She also suspected that at some time the library had shifted from investment to hobby and, in John’s absence, she was determined to get it back onto a firmer footing. She started to peruse her forecasting spreadsheet and look for savings, or niches to gain more revenue.

  By three o’clock Mary was becoming concerned over Bella and sauntered over to stand by Bella. Close up she looked even worse. Mary sat down.

  “Struggling?”

  Bella closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “I feel I could sleep for a week.”

  Mary touched her on the shoulder.

  “Then go home and sleep.”

  Bella half shook her head.

  “I’ll manage.”

  Mary pursed her lips.

  “And then you’ll be worse tomorrow. I’m not arguing with you, go home, go to bed and don’t come in till ten tomorrow and only then if you are absolutely certain your health is up to it.”

  Bella looked miserable.

  “But I’m letting you down!” She moaned.

  “By the end of the month you’ll be turning somersaults, now go home.” Mary responded.

  Bella wearily rose and slowly headed for the escalator. Once she was out of sight Mary waved to Bill, who came over. Bill, the epitome of a second-hand car-salesman, had been a computer engineer before he retired and was more than capable of running the café. He sat down.

  “Young Bella bushed again? No stamina these youngsters”

  Mary patted him on the shoulder.

  “Give her a chance Bill, coming back to work after a long illness is never easy.”

  He shrugged.

  “Surprised at you being soft like that, won’t do your reputation any good at all.”

  Mary scowled.

  “It’s not a matter of being soft. I employed her because I thought she’d be best in the job.” She snapped fearsomely.

  Bill raised his hands in surrender and Mary left him to it.

  Three hours later Mary locked up and exited the building, out of habit she glanced up from the car-park at the rear of the library just to check that there were no lights on and all the windows were closed. She inwardly groaned, a light was showing in one of the dormer windows on the top story. She made a mental note that the light was showing in the fourth dormer window from the entrance and made her way back inside. She laboriously made her way upstairs and then walked down the corridor counting doors. She opened door number four to be greeted by a darkened room. She stood still and then retraced her steps by one door-way to find the light on in the staff rest room. Perplexed she stood in the corridor and counted the doors, there were four on each side where she had expected five. She ran through the building layout in her head. Ten dormer windows each side of the building, the first three on each side of the building belonged to John’s flat, then the front forth window was also in John’s flat and the rear fourth window at the top of the stairwell, next came the pair immediately above the book-shop, which on the street side contained the water tanks and on the rear contained the lift-motors. That left five windows on each side of the building, but the corridor still only contained four doors. She looked at her watch and hurried out of the building, only stopping to collect the plans from the office and stuff them into her backpack.

  At home Mary found her mother asleep in her armchair and went straight to the well equipped kitchen to cook dinner. She’d slipped into looking after her mother some years ago and she supposed that she could resent being saddled with the task when her two older sisters both had larger houses and her younger brother seemed disinclined even to send a Mother’s Day card. But in truth she did not resent it, in fact she felt it was some sort of pay-back for the way her mother had nursed her following her dreadful accident at university. As she cooked she surveyed the three calendars on the wall; one for her mum’s medication; one to keep track of her mum’s social life, Mary liked to keep her as active as possible; and a final calendar for keeping track of household matters. Mary eventually took her Mother’s dinner through on a tray and put it on a special trolley that could project over the armchair. She woke her mother up and after a few moments she started to eat slowly. Mary fetched her own dinner and sat in the other armchair with the plate on her knees, she used a special fork that had one of the outer tines bevelled to a not too sharp an edge. Mary chatted to her mum about the day and got her mother to talk about her own day. These days her mother’s conversation was getting a little stilted in the evenings, but given the right stimulus she could prattle on for a fair time. Mary tried another subject.

  “Did the Chiropodist come and see to your feet?”

  She was treated to a blank look followed by a
smile.

  “Yes he did, and it’s a new one. I had a good talk with him and he used to be a roofing contractor before he went into the chiropody. He said that he used to use toenails, but he now saw to roofing nails.”

  Mary digested this and decided that somewhere along the line her mother had got it wrong, not an unusual occurrence.

  “What happened to Bunion Bill?”

  Her mother shook her head.

  “Gone to Africa, or was it Croydon?”

  Mary laughed and they settled down to the usual evening routine of television and housework; that is Mother pretending to watch the television while Mary pretended to do a thorough job of the housework.

  Later, once Mary’s mother had gone to bed in what used to be the dining room, but was now a downstairs bedroom, Mary pulled out the building plans and spread them out on the kitchen table. They coincided with the imaginary plans in her head and confirmed that the corridor on the top level above the library should have five rooms each side and each room should have a door directly opposite the window. She put the plans away and looked at her watch, there was just time for her leg exercises and then it would be time for bed. Before going upstairs she turned on the baby-monitor she had installed the previous month; her mother had taken to getting up in the middle of the night and wandering into the kitchen. Two nights ago, at three o’clock in the morning, she had found her mum going through the cupboards looking for flour to bake a birthday cake, unfortunately Mary and her siblings were all born between January and March and it was now July.

  The following day, before any staff arrived, Mary re-checked the top-story’s room quota. The plans said that each door should open opposite the window, but that was not the case; it was true for the doors at each end of the corridor, but the two inner doors were nowhere near opposite the window, Mary shook her head and gave up. Something wasn’t quite right, but she didn’t have the time, or the real inclination, to investigate. She went back downstairs and commenced the opening-up routine. At least it was Wednesday, so they would be closing at 1pm along with the vast majority of the shops in the high street. This was not through staff-nurture or tradition, but because it was a stipulation in the council lease. This meant that all the shops in the original parades on both sides of the street shut on Wednesday afternoon, whereas the rest of the town’s shops stayed open. This was economic suicide for some of the shops that had to shut, but the council was impervious to cries for change and adamant that there would be absolutely no alteration to this policy. There were two exceptions to this rule, the tea-shop had a special dispensation and the hardware store just ignored the council, but they had been ignoring the council for over fifty years and no other shop even came close to that sort of pedigree.