Book Woman Read online

  At lunch-time Mary went through the opposite routine and closed the library down. Once at the café end Mary waited for Bella to close down her computer.

  “Problems?” Mary asked.

  Bella looked up.

  “Not really, for some reason our anti-pornography filter software was preventing customers from accessing the booking site for that new low-cost airline, South Midlands Universal Transport.”

  Mary raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorted it?”

  Bella laughed.

  “It’s the acronym – SMUT – that the software didn’t like, I’ve sorted it now.”

  Mary was impressed, especially as she knew in her heart it would have taken a month of Sundays to spot that. Mary smiled.

  “Well shut down and I’ll buy you lunch.”

  Bella gave her a sideways look.

  “Don’t want to tell me bad news do you? You know, ‘there’s no such thing as a free lunch.’”

  Mary shook her head and chuckled.

  “Stop being so wary, you’re doing fine, I just thought that it would be nice. My mum’s at a special event at her day-centre so I’ve got a free afternoon.”

  Bella relaxed.

  “OK, where are we going?”

  Mary pointed to the rear end of the Internet café.

  “Through the fire-exit and into the Eastburgh tea-rooms, we get 15% discount.”

  Bella’s eyes widened.

  “I thought that door just led to the joint fire escape stairwell.”

  Mary nodded.

  “It does, but their fire-exit is on the other side of the landing and it has a bell-push; we ring and they let us in.”

  Bella ran the close-down routine and then turned off the power.

  “Well lead on, I’m famished.”

  An hour later Mary pushed away her empty plate and picked up her coffee, Bella followed suite after a last few mouthfuls of chilli. Mary put her coffee down, ripped a small sugar-bag with her teeth and emptied some more sugar into the cup.

  “I always find the coffee here a bit bitter.”

  Bella shrugged.

  “That’s why I stick to tea.”

  Mary nodded and leant forward.

  “How’s it going? The energy levels I mean?”

  Bella gave a weak smile.

  “I reckon that I’ll sleep for the whole weekend.”

  Mary nodded sympathetically.

  “Any plans to go back to university?”

  Bella shook her head.

  “I want to see how this job works out, it’s one step at a time.”

  She hesitated, not wanting to appear too familiar.

  “I hear that you dropped out of university as well.”

  Mary gave a wry smile.

  “That’s one way of putting it.” She paused and then said quietly. “Actually I dropped out from a couple of thousand feet.”

  Bella’s eyes opened wide.

  “So it is you on that video clip dropping through the greenhouse roof!”

  Mary nodded.

  “I went to University to study English Literature; in Fresher’s week I joined the parachuting club. I actually loved ever minute of it and we went jumping most weekends if weather permitted. In the November of my final year and on my forty-seventh solo jump something went wrong and my main parachute didn’t open. In theory that’s no big deal, you just release the reserve ‘chute after waiting a few seconds, if you can, to make sure that the main ‘chute really is stuck. This had happened to me before on my twelfth jump, so I knew the routine. I waited a few seconds and pulled the reserve chute rip-cord; it opened fine, then promptly ripped itself almost in half. It was working to some extent, but I realised that I would be going down awfully fast. I was too terrified to try and steer the ‘chute as I feared that any pulling about would cause it to rip more, so I just had to trust to luck. The damn thing finally totally collapsed when I was about a hundred feet up, I ended up going through the roof of a giant greenhouse adjacent to a garden centre and dropping into the middle of a flowerpot storage area. Don’t let anybody tell you that falling into a greenhouse gives you an easy landing.”

  Bella’s eyes were like saucers.

  “But you lived to tell the tale, it looked dreadful on the video.”

  Mary gave her wry smile again.

  “Only just. Even though I kept my hands across my chest and had gloves on, when I hit the glass roof, somewhat sideways, I sliced off my left hand just on the thumb joint and the glass also sliced into my chest, fortunately it didn’t go through my rib-cage or it would have been curtains for me. In any case I didn’t really care about that as there was a solid floor under the flower-pots. Although I tried I didn’t land properly and pulverised both ankles, ripped apart both knees and had a couple of compound fracture in my right leg. I also managed to severely twist my spine, half tear an ear off and crack my pelvis. To finish off I dislocated my right shoulder and almost bit my tongue off.”

  She looked directly into Bella’s eyes.

  “So I know what it’s like to struggle against your own body to hold down a job. I’m not expecting miracles from you; do what you can and be honest enough to admit when you can’t.”

  Bella still looked amazed.

  “How long did it take you to recover; you look fine now.”

  Mary swallowed some coffee.

  “You should see my legs when I’m not wearing trousers, a pile of giant terracotta pot fragments and various scars from traction pins and operations has added to their complexion somewhat. Though the accident inspector said I ought to be grateful to those pots as I probably owed my life to them as he reckoned they broke my fall sufficiently for me not to kill myself outright on landing. It was three months before they gave me a proper stump on my left arm, nearly two years before I stopped having terrible nightmares and years before I could hold down any sort of job.”

  She leant back in her chair.

  “I suppose a lot of my recovery is down to my physiotherapist, she’d make Attila the Hun look like fairy queen! But it was her badgering and special exercises that got me walking again and her perseverance that finally helped me to throw away my walking stick.”

  Bella looked at her.

  “Do you still go to physio?”

  “No, but I still swim when I can.”

  Bella stirred her tea.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  Mary nodded, Bella added hesitantly.

  “Why the hook and not a prosthetic hand?”

  Mary shrugged.

  “I got the hook first and then tried a false hand after, but I hated it; in any case I find the hook more versatile.”

  Bella sighed.

  “Do you still see your old parachuting friends?”

  Mary wrinkled her nose.

  “No. One or two came to see me for a few weeks, then they sort of drifted away; I guess I reminded them too much of what could go wrong. In any case after a few months I got moved to a specialist orthopædic hospital down here.”

  Bella nodded glumly.

  “Same with me, they sort of move on and you don’t. One friend stuck it out with me, the rest drifted away.”

  Mary smiled and drained her coffee cup.

  “I did make one good friend though. When I dropped into the garden centre there was a young doctor at the other end of the greenhouse. She’d only just qualified, but she tended me till the ambulance arrived. She later told me that she had found it terribly traumatic. It wasn’t the physical injuries, she could deal with them, it was my persistent screaming. Fortunately she was quick enough to realise that I was screaming in pain from my shoulder and tongue, but not my legs, I was numb from the waist down, so she made sure that the paramedics treated me as a severe spinal injury and had me air-lifted to hospital. Once I was in hospital she visited me on a regular basis and we became firm friends.”

  Bella looked wistful.

  “Nothing so dramatic for me. In fact I get the feeling that a lot
of the medical establishment think that I am just malingering, but it’s not like that at all; I just don’t seem to have the get up and go.”

  Mary picked up the bill.

  “Well don’t fight it, learn to roll with the punches. Opposite the mess-room is a small bedroom with an old single bed and mattress, if you need to sleep in there for the odd hour to get through the day then do so.”

  Bella nodded.

  “Message received and thank you for being so understanding.”

  Mary grinned causing her flabby cheeks to wobbly.

  “As I said, been there, done that and would rather not have the tee-shirt.”

  As Mary paid the bill she turned to Bella.

  “Would you believe that I’m now off to Ipswich County Records Office to try and pacify my mother? She is now certain that her great grandfather was the person that gory documentary on grave-robbing mentioned as the main villain.”

  Bella laughed.

  “And you don’t think so?”

  “Names the same, but I’m sure her great grandparents lived in Cambridgeshire, not Suffolk.”

  Bella hesitated.

  “Could you give me a lift, I’d rather like to do some shopping.”

  Mary nodded and they made for the car-park by exiting into the fire-escape stair-well and appearing in the car park.

  Bella walked round to the left hand side of Mary’s car to find a grinning Mary directly behind her.

  “You can get in that side if you like, but you’ll have to drive.”

  Bella peered in through the window to see the driver’s seat. Mary opened the door.

  “It’s left hand drive as makes it so much easier for me.”

  Bella duly went to the offside and climbed in the passenger seat.

  “What is it?”

  “A Mercedes Vaneo. It’s just right for us as I can use my right hand to twiddle the minor controls and the seats are high enough for my mother and her cronies to get in without bending too far.”

  Bella put the seat-belt on.

  “Is it adapted?”

  Mary started the engine.

  “Yes and no. It’s an automatic and the accelerator pedal is to the left of the brake pedal as my right ankle is not really up to driving long distances. The garage also moved the windscreen wiper controls to that knob on the dashboard for me and put the little knob on the steering wheel.”

  Bella looked around the vehicle.

  “It is rather nice.”

  Mary smiled.

  “It’s a total and utter luxury, but to be honest I like the idea of a tough car, I don’t think I could bear to break my legs again in another accident.

  Bella settled back and then almost screamed as she suddenly realised that she was where the driver would normally be, but had absolutely no control over the vehicle. On the short journey to Ipswich she kept stamping her right foot onto the floor. Mary just smiled.

  “Funny,” she said. “All my passengers do that.”

  Chapter 3

  Something not quite right

  Mid afternoon Mary closed her notebook and sighed. Despite all the odds her mother was right and her mother’s great-grandfather had indeed been hung for grave-robbing. She decided to keep the information to herself and hoped that her mother would forget the whole thing. She took the census records back to the information desk and pushed them over to the young man behind the counter.

  “Do you keep plans of buildings owned by the council here?”

  He looked vague.

  “Depends on which building.” He shrugged. “And why you want to look at them, not a terrorist are you?”

  Mary wagged a finger.

  “If I was would I say? It’s the period shops in Eastburgh I’m interested in, especially any original plans for the Palace Ballroom.”

  He tapped his keyboard and studied the computer screen.

  “You’re in luck, those we have and they’re on general viewing.”

  He glanced at her hands.

  “Take a seat and I’ll bring you the file.”

  She went back to her table and the young man brought over a pair of box-files.

  “Top box is structural drawings, bottom box is photographs and suchlike.”

  Mary spent half an hour looking at the old photographs before tackling the box of drawings. In it were exactly the same drawings she already had copies of and no real further information. She was just about to give up when she discovered some folded blueprints at the bottom of the box, their label caught her eye. ‘Palace Ballroom, basic structure, declassified 1999.’ She opened out the top blueprint to be instantly confused by the symbols and diagrams, but why, she wondered, had these been classified in the first place? She suddenly became aware of a man close to her and looked up, a large man in a brown boiler suit smiled down at her from a short step-ladder.

  “Sorry luv didn’t mean to disturb you, just got to change this camera, won’t be a sec.” He explained.

  He unscrewed the CCTV camera and walked out with it. Mary folded up the blueprint and then, on impulse, looked around. There was no-one behind the desk, nobody else in the reading room and obviously no CCTV camera. Without knowing why she stuffed the blueprints into her carpet cloth back-pack and then returned the box files to the counter. An older woman appeared and Mary instantly felt guilty as she said she had finished. The woman gave a professional smiled and retrieved the box-files. Mary left the building as the CCTV engineer walked in carrying a new camera.

  Mary arrived before her mother, she studied her set of calendars; tomorrow was her mum’s day for a morning appointment at the hospital followed by her friend Marjorie coming round for afternoon tea. Mary finished by looking at Sunday and her heart sank. Normally she took her mum to church in the morning and lazed about in the afternoon, but the calendar had the dreaded words ‘barbecue in minister’s garden.’ “Well bang goes my Sunday afternoon” she muttered to herself before starting to prepare a light tea and wondering how not to tell her mother that she was the great grand-daughter of a Victorian felon.

  Thursday at the library went without a hitch until early afternoon, that is until Mary felt the bookshop pager vibrating in her pocket. She went downstairs to be confronted by a small group of angry customers. Catherine, the part time member of staff on duty virtually ran up to her side for a swift briefing.

  “They all bought copies of Samantha Egleton’s new novel Prima Donna in Purple Aspic here this morning, it’s just come out in paperback.”

  “Then why are they complaining?”

  “Because the supermarket down the road is selling them at less than half-price if you spend more than £15 on food.”

  Mary’s mouth dropped open.

  But they don’t usually sell books even though their bigger stores do. They haven’t got the space.”

  Catherine rolled her eyes.

  “Well they’re selling this one and we’ve got another two hundred copies in the basement and it’s Serena’s day off.”

  Mary did a mental calculation, but she instinctively knew that they could not afford to sell the novel at less than half-price; on the other hand they could not afford to alienate customers. She rang the attention bell on the desk, and looked around.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the supermarket promotion up the road has somewhat caught us by surprise. I am sure that you realise that we stock a wide range of books and as an independent book shop cannot possibly compete with the discount offered by large food outlets.”

  There was a murmuring, but Mary ignored it.

  “However, as a gesture of good will if you can show us the receipt we will refund £2 per copy of the novel.”

  Someone moaned.

  “I haven’t got a receipt, I threw it away.”

  Mary pursed her lips into a no-nonsense pose.

  “Sorry no receipt no refund; I must protect myself against people buying the book down the road and then trying for a receipt here.”

  Catherine suddenly stepped in.

>   “It’s all right Mr Johnston, I remember serving you and you can have your refund.”

  There was more murmuring, but no real aggression, and customers lined up to collect their refunds. Catherine managed the till and muttered to Mary.

  “We’ll be selling at zero profit.”

  “Not quite, I reckon we’ll get 2p per copy.”

  Catherine licked her lips.

  “Well I hope they don’t do this with any other books, it would play havoc with our profit margins.”

  Mary could not but agree.

  Since Thursday afternoons were usually very quiet Mary decided to take a walk to the supermarket. On entering her blood ran cold; in place of the usual racks of beer, wine and spirits there was a shiny new bookstall populated by the various paperbacks and hardbacks plus a large selection of travel books; all heavily discounted and certainly way below the price at which she could sell them. There were also two new stands for greeting cards, but that didn’t interest her. She sought out a member of staff she recognized.

  “Can I have a word with Derek?”

  “You mean Mr Jones the manager.”

  “Yes.”

  The girl gave a weak smile.

  “He’s not here any more.”