I stuffed my old belongings in a bin outside and walked around the city for a while. I bought a takeout coffee and a doughnut and strolled through Stephen’s Green. The weather was mild and I became aware of how much lighter I felt in myself. I walked with my arms relaxed, not tight around my chest as they always used to be – always on alert. I watched the swans in the pond picking at the bread people threw in and heard the clap of wings when a flock of pigeons were spooked from their perch. It was like coming out of some kind of coma, I thought, because now everything sounded clearer and looked brighter. That old hope returned to my stomach again, as I saw students of all nationalities sitting on the grass; discussing intelligent things, I supposed. Maybe they were just talking about parties they were going to, but either way, it was a life I’d never tasted and the hunger in me was nearly overpowering. I did something I never thought I’d dare and stopped in the library on the way home. My courage almost left me at the door when I realised I hadn’t been inside one since I was a child and even then it had been the travelling library. This was a big, busy building with a revolving door that saw much use. I caught my reflection in the glass, a new woman in new clothes, and took a deep breath.
Once inside, I wasn’t sure what to do. Everyone seemed to know where they were going – heads bowed over open books. It was so quiet but, my God, you could hear how smart everyone was. It was terrifying. I spotted an older woman at the reception desk and asked her if she had any information on going to university.
‘Adult education?’ she asked.
‘I suppose, yeah.’
Without any further conversation, she got up and took some leaflets from a Perspex shelf behind her.
‘You’ll find everything you need here.’
That was it. She’d moved on to the next person and I was quietly relieved that I’d got what I came for without making a show of myself. That’s when I spotted a book I’d heard so many people talking about: Normal People by Sally Rooney. I loved the title and for the first time in for ever, I thought this book might speak to someone like me. Someone who felt anything but normal. I picked it up and made to put it in my handbag.
‘Excuuuuuuuse me!’ came an unsettling shout from the librarian.
I halted as though I’d been stopped by the guards and looked every bit as guilty.
‘I’ll need your library card to check that out,’ she insisted, at a volume that seemed unnecessary, given we were in the quietest building in Ireland. I felt my cheeks going red. I didn’t know what to do.
‘Library card?’ she repeated, her hand outstretched.
‘Um, I don’t have one,’ I mumbled, conscious now that everyone was looking at me. This was where having notions above your station got you.
‘Well, you’ll have to fill out this form then,’ she sighed, as though my visit had set her life’s progress back by about ten years. I could read the frustration in her body language, the way her wrist flicked and her neck tightened. I could see her as a dancer when she was younger, but something must have happened, an injury, and now she was here. Resenting every minute of it.
‘I’ll just leave it so,’ I said, putting the book back on the counter. I had never felt so utterly stupid. I didn’t even know how to borrow a book from a library – how was I ever going to get into college? I stuffed the leaflets into my bag and was about to leave when I saw him. Henry.
Chapter Nine
HENRY
‘Is everything okay?’
I’d heard the commotion and was quite surprised to see Martha, still with that defiant expression, having something of a disagreement with the librarian. Having spent so long in libraries myself, my sympathies tended to lie with the staff, but not today.
‘Fine, thank you,’ she replied, tugging the strap of her bag on to her shoulder a little too vigorously, whereupon it snapped and dropped all of the contents to the floor.
‘Oh, let me,’ I said, bending down to help.
‘It’s okay, I can manage,’ she stage whispered. ‘I just bought this,’ she said, looking somewhat forlorn.
I wasn’t sure what to say to make it better.
‘Buy cheap, buy twice,’ I said, in case there was any doubt that my chosen Olympic event would be sticking my foot in my mouth.
She rolled her eyes as I picked up the leaflets and left her to gather her personal effects.
‘Oh, you’re thinking of going to university? Cool,’ I said, flicking through them.
‘You really think so?’ she asked.
‘Yes, of course. Especially as a mature student, I think that’s …’ I looked at her face as she stood up and held her hand out in order for me to return her leaflets. ‘Oh. You were being sarcastic.’
It was possible she might have smiled at that, but only fleetingly.
‘Apologies. None of my business. Quite right.’
She sighed heavily.
‘No, I’m sorry. It’s all just a bit—’
‘Can you keep the noise down please?’ the librarian whisper-shouted at us. ‘People are trying to read.’
‘Give me a sec to grab my stuff,’ I said, motioning for her to stay where she was, as though she were a car with a dodgy handbrake.
Once outside, she seemed much happier, but still very guarded towards me, which was fair enough.
‘So, are you still looking for your lost manuscript?’
Her tone made it clear that she didn’t see it as the life-changing search I knew it to be.
‘Very much so, yes. Actually, I came across an old catalogue that was printed by Opaline in the 1920s. It’s really quite fascinating—’
‘Opaline? What a beautiful name,’ she said, and I stupidly felt glad that I was the cause for the smile that spread across her face.
‘Yes, it’s unusual, isn’t it?’
‘And what happened to her?’
We stepped through a stone archway which led into something of a secret garden, right in the middle of the city, with marble statues and a fountain, which was currently empty.
‘Well, that’s what I’m trying to find out. I’m hoping it will give me a clue as to what happened to the bookshop.’ And the manuscript – that was where my interest truly lay. I would make my name, then return home to London a success and show Isabelle that marrying me wouldn’t be a ‘last resort’， as she had put it once.
She took a can of Coke out of her giant bag and pressed down hard on the top so it wouldn’t spray everywhere.
‘Do you want to sit down for a minute?’ she said, pointing to a bench positioned neatly in front of a miserable flowerbed. ‘I’m not really in a rush to get back. Turns out being a live-in housekeeper means you’re on call 24/7.’
I was only too delighted. It seemed her first impression of me had thawed somewhat. That’s when it dawned on me why her company mattered so much. I was lonely. My whole life I had been quite comfortable with the lone wolf lifestyle, but I felt like a total outsider here.
‘So what’s with the obsession?’
‘Obsession?’
‘With this manuscript?’
‘I don’t think I’d call it an obsession.’
‘Erm, you seemed pretty obsessed outside my window the other day.’