Page 8 of Elodie's Library of Second Chances

The little town of Willow Grove is as picture-postcard perfect as I remember it. Weeping willow trees throw shade along the narrow roads, while pops of colourful flowers line the edges.

There’s no time to meander – today is day one of my very new life! I just have to remember to introduce myself as Elodie Halifax. I’m out of practice using my real name, which seems as absurd as going under cover for a new job!

With my freshly dyed brunette locks, I’ve altered my appearance so much even I’m surprised when I see my reflection, so I’m sure that no one will recognise me.

Unless they’re really into watching ribbon-cutting ceremonies, I should be safe.

As I turn the corner the library comes into view. It’s still the same little ramshackle building that leans to the left as if burly weather has battered it sideways over its long and lustrous life. It’s as cute as a button, despite the early signs of dilapidation. Roof shingles need replacing and a few windows need fresh glass. Most likely there hasn’t been enough in the coffers to maintain it properly but that will have to be a priority for safety reasons.

By the front door I’m momentarily startled when I see movement among a cluster of plastic bags.A dishevelled head appears, belonging to a man with a long mane of hair and a scraggly beard. He shoots me an apprehensive look, his eyes settling on my name badge.

‘I’m going, I’m going,’ he says and rolls up a frayed sleeping bag and quickly gathers the rest of his things. Before I can say a word, he limps off, as if every step is a painful one. Why is he sleeping rough like this?

I run a few steps after him. ‘Hey, wait. What’s with the rush to leave? I’m Elli … Elodie.’

The man stops and turns back to me, his eyes full of suspicion. ‘I’m Harry. Apparently, I make the place look untidy.’

Untidy? His words are laced with hurt. I have to get to the bottom of this. ‘How about we share a pot of tea? I’ve got biscuits,’ I say and pat my handbag. ‘I’d prefer not to eat them alone.’

‘Thanks, miss, but the librarian’s banned me. I’m not to step foot inside.’

Libraries are the last refuge, a place where everyone is welcome, where it doesn’t cost anything to sit, read and keep warm. A place where you can find a friend in literature, or a librarian, and this man has been turned away simply because of his homelessness? Well, not on my watch.

‘I’m in charge now and you’re welcome here anytime. In fact, I insist you come in out of the cold morning air and share a pot of tea with me. These biscuits aren’t going to eat themselves and, between us, I can see I’m going to be doing a lot of biscuit eating in this new job so you’d be doing me a favour if you helped me out with that.’

A dubious look crosses his face but he follows me inside slowly,as if he doesn’t trust me. ‘Pop your things in one of the lockers if you want to keep them safe and dry,’ I say, noticing them to the left of the entrance. I try and recall the layout of the library from my visits as a student. From the looks of it, nothing much has changed including the carpets and curtains. It’s like a time capsule and is quite a shock to the system. I’d have thought there’d be some improvements since I was a student, but it doesn’t appear so. Even the computers are the old boxy type that take up most of the desk. Looks like I’m going to have to bring this place kicking and screaming into the present in terms of technology.

I know there’s bathroom and shower facilities because the building formerly housed its librarians many moons ago. Would Harry use them if he was invited to or would he take offence at me suggesting such a thing? I want him to feel welcome, and I bet he’d like a long, hot shower after being out in the cold all night.

I hunt around behind the main desk, searching for a towel, but only manage to find some kind of chamois. Will that do? Maybe Harry has his own towel?

‘Harry, I’m just trying to acquaint myself with the layout here and as soon as I find the kitchen I’ll pop the kettle on. In the meantime, I found this poor excuse for a towel and I want you to know you can use the bathroom facilities any time if you need to warm yourself up. I haven’t checked them out yet, so please let me know if they’re not up to scratch.’

Tears spring to his rheumy eyes and he struggles to speak, just gives me a curt nod.

‘Take your time. I’ll get the tea on the go.’

As he limps off, another man appears. This one is dashing in a romance novel kind of way, with bright blue eyes and shiny white teeth,model handsome, as if he’s just stepped off the cover of a magazine. ‘I saw what you did,’ he says and flashes a bright smile.

‘Oh?’ Somehow this stranger manages to dazzle me just by staring into my eyes, like he knows all my secrets. I remind myself to tread carefully.

‘For Harry,’ he says.

‘Showed a small amount of courtesy? It was nothing.’ I wave him away and pretend to be busy rifling through paperwork on the desk. The presence of this man has unnerved me for some inexplicable reason. He’s familiar but I can’t place why. What if he knows me as Ellie Astor and the game is up already? I talk myself down. It’s first-day jitters. Of course he doesn’t know me! And if he does, me acting strangely will be a dead giveaway, so I force myself to look up and stare right into his eyes. He’s boy-next-door beautiful. The kind of guy who probably breaks a lot of hearts without even knowing it.

‘It shows what kind of person you are.’ He throws me another disarming smile. ‘I’m Finn Ford, a reporter from theChronicle. I’m hoping to do a story about you and how you plan to save the library.’

Ah, the hot journalist is the one who wrote the article that led me here! That’s why he seems so familiar: his picture was next to his byline. My shoulders unknit. ‘Thanks for the offer. I’ll have a think about what I want to do and let you know when I come up with a solid plan to save the library.’ I need to keep my face out of the papers so I’ll have to spin it in such a way to Finn Ford (a reporter name if ever there was one!) that it’s believable. I’ll explain that I want the story to be purely about the library and how we aim to increase memberships.

‘I’ve also been sent by the welcoming committee …’

I tilt my head. ‘Oh, yeah?’ I say, as a flirty smile plays at his lips. ‘How many on the committee?’

‘Just me so far.’

‘Right.’ I laugh, and feel my cheeks blush. I’m not the blushing sort, so this gives me pause. Just what magical powers does this man have? I bet every woman in town has a crush on him.

‘If you’re free on Friday the … welcoming committee would like to give you a tour around town culminating in dinner at one of its finest establishments. What do you say?’

---