Page 3 of Read Between The Lines

I laughed. ‘I was a bit worried when I first turned up and the tutor told us the full curriculum, but I’m learning all kinds of skills, and you never know when they might come in handy. Right, I’d better get on with it. Give me a shout if the after-school crowd start swarming.’

I sorted the returned books on the trolley, quickly checking them over for any damage that needed repairing. I tried to restrain myself from reading the blurbs, but inevitably succumbed and ended up setting aside a few volumes to borrow. I told myself that having a good knowledge of the books we had in stock was a key part of my role as I set off pushing the trolley between the shelves.

‘Either you or that trolley is in need of some serious WD40. I thought libraries were meant to be quiet places.’

I glanced across to the source of the criticism. The guy was taking up an entire table between the business books stacks, papers strewn everywhere, leaning his chair back on two legs like an overgrown teenager, while resting a sturdy pair of boots on another seat. I shuddered when I noticed bits of soil and goodness knows what else already accumulating on the upholstery beneath his soles.

I fixed him with my best stern librarian expression. It wasn’t often that I brought the big guns out, but he looked too robust and sure of himself to be classed as one of the waifs and strays who needed delicate handling, and I didn’t like the insult implied in his comment both to myselfandthe institution.

‘The trolley may need a little bit of TLC, but she’s got a lot of life left in her, and we prefer to direct our budget towards other areas.’

‘And how about you? Similar to the trolley?’ He grinned in what I’m sure he thought was a charming manner.

I tried to ignore his teasing, but his presumptuous cheekiness got the better of me.

‘We do try to keep a peaceful atmosphere in here, but if you want a completely silent environment, I suggest you try one of the university libraries. Although I don’t think they’ve managed to eliminate the noise of rustling pages, which might prove exasperating to you. Or you can always head upstairs to our designated quiet reading room, although again, it’s probably best to expect some form of general ambient sound in there, people daring to breathe and the like.’

‘General ambient sound,’ he echoed back to me. ‘So, what you’re telling me is that there’s nowhere for a bloke to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet in this city? I thought librarians were famously good at shushing.’

‘Would it work, if I tried it on you?’ I couldn’t resist retorting. I never normally talked back to patrons, especially new ones, but he’d started it and was looking irritatingly amused by the exchange. ‘We prefer to make this library a welcoming environment for everyone. For everyone who behaves themselves, that is. Speaking of which, would you mind kindly removing your hooves from the furniture? Someone else might like to sit there today, and I’m sure they won’t appreciate having to sully their clothes with whatever disgustingness you’ve obviously been wading through.’

‘Hooves, you say’—he paused and glanced at my name badge—‘Kat… Fisher? Are you implying you see something devilish in me?’ His eyes sparkled in that grating way good-looking men sometimes have when they know they’re attractive and, therefore, can get away with stuff others wouldn’t.

I cursed my slip of the tongue. I’d obviously spent too long talking romantasy with Doris.

‘Hooves, clodhoppers, whatever you’d like to call your oversized boots, which should be firmly on the ground rather than messing up my furniture. Unless there’s a medical reason for your feet to be elevated, of course?’

He shook his head.

‘In which case, kindly remove them from the chair.’

He looked like he wanted to say something in response, but my increasingly stern expression obviously made him think better of it, and he did as he was told.

‘Thank you. No! Don’t do that, you’ll make it worse,’ I said in a slightly louder whisper, jolting him as he was pouring water onto a tissue. No doubt he intended to scrub at the muddy marks on the seat, but some of the water missed its target and ended up on his lap instead.

‘Great, now look at the state of me,’ he said with a sigh.

I smothered a smile. ‘At least it didn’t get on your papers, or worse, the library’s books. I’m sure if you sit quietly in the corner here, no one will see it. Or you could go and make use of the hand dryers in the cloakroom, but be warned, they’re noisy, and you’ll have to make your way across the library. Of course, we’re a judgement-free zone here, so don’t worry about everyone staring at you.’

‘Judgement-free zone? I hadn’t noticed,’ he muttered, turning his back and shuffling his chair tight under the table so the unfortunately positioned damp patch was out of view.

As I walked away, pushing the trolley, I swear I heard him mimicking the sound of the squeak under his breath, but when I looked back, he seemed to be deeply absorbed in his paperwork.

I had to warn the rest of the staff to keep an eye on him.

* * *

By closing time, I was aching all over and debating following Moira’s advice to head home and curl up with a book, rather than go to class, even though it would be the last one before the Easter break.

‘Fifteen thousand steps today,’ called the woman herself as she locked the front door. ‘That’s nearly a personal record. Let me add it to the sweepstake chart. Iwillwin that chocolate.’

The step chart had been introduced by management as an allegedly fun way of promoting our health and wellbeing. Inevitably it had turned somewhat competitive, and the weekly prize of copious amounts of chocolate provided by the previous week’s winner rather undid the good intentions.

‘Nice work,’ I said. ‘Let me take a look at mine.’

‘You should invest in a smart watch, like the rest of us,’ said Moira. ‘And you’ll have the added bonus of messages from the Sexy Soldier popping up on your wrist.’

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but all thoughts of checking my step count went out of my mind in an instant.

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