The Midnight Library - Matt Haig Page 0,81
I never lived there. It was somewhere else. And someone else. I’m sorry.’
They resumed their conversation, as Nora thought about Mr Banerjee’s front garden full of irises and foxgloves.
‘Can I help you?’
She turned to look at the receptionist. A mild-mannered, red-haired man with glasses and blotched skin and a gentle Scottish accent.
She told him who she was and that she had phoned earlier.
He was a little confused at first.
‘And you say you left a message?’
He hummed a quiet tune as he searched for her email.
‘Yes, but on the phone. I was trying for ages to get through and I couldn’t so I eventually left a message. I emailed as well.’
‘Ah, right, I see. Well, I’m sorry about that. Are you here to see a family member?’
‘No,’ Nora explained. ‘I am not family. I am just someone who used to know her. She’d know me, though. Her name is Mrs Elm.’ Nora tried to remember the full name. ‘Sorry. It’s Louise Elm. If you told her my name, Nora. Nora Seed. She used to be my . . . She was the school librarian, at Hazeldene. I just thought she might like some company.’
The man stopped looking at his computer and stared up at Nora with barely suppressed surprise. At first Nora thought that she had got it wrong. Or Dylan had got it wrong, that evening at La Cantina. Or maybe the Mrs Elm in that life had experienced a different fate in this life. Though Nora didn’t quite know how her own decision to work in an animal shelter would have led to a different outcome for Mrs Elm in this life. But that made no sense. As in neither life had she been in touch with the librarian since school.
‘What’s the matter?’ Nora asked the receptionist.
‘I’m ever so sorry to tell you this, but Louise Elm is no longer here.’
‘Where is she?’
‘She . . . actually, she died three weeks ago.’
At first she thought it must be an admin error. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid I am very sure.’
‘Oh,’ said Nora. She didn’t really know what to say, or to feel. She looked down at her tote bag that had sat beside her in the car. A bag containing the chess set she had brought to play a game with her, and to keep her company. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t . . . You see, I haven’t seen her for years. Years and years. But I heard from someone who said that she was here . . .’
‘So sorry,’ the receptionist said.
‘No. No worries. I just wanted to thank her. For being so kind to me.’
‘She died very peacefully,’ he said, ‘literally in her sleep.’
And Nora smiled and retreated politely away. ‘That’s good. Thank you. Thank you for looking after her. I’ll just go now. Bye . . .’
An Incident With the Police
She stepped back out onto Shakespeare Road with her bag and her chess set and she really didn’t know what to do. There were tingles through her body. Not quite pins and needles. More that strange, fuzzy static feeling she had felt before when she was nearing the end of a particular existence.
Trying to ignore the feeling in her body, she headed in the vague direction of the car park. She passed her old garden flat at 33A Bancroft Avenue. A man she had never seen before was taking a box of recycling out. She thought of the lovely house in Cambridge she now had and couldn’t help but compare it to this shabby flat on a litter-strewn street. The tingles subsided a little. She passed Mr Banerjee’s house, or what had been Mr Banerjee’s house, and saw the only owned house on the street that hadn’t been divided into flats, though now it looked very different. The small front lawn was overgrown, and there was no sign of the clematis or busy lizzies in pots that Nora had watered for him last summer when he’d been recovering from his hip surgery.
On the pavement she noticed a couple of crumpled lager cans.
She saw a woman with a blonde bob and tanned skin walking towards her on the pavement with two small children in a double pushchair. She looked exhausted. It was the woman she had spoken to in the newsagent’s the day she had decided to die. The one who had seemed happy and relaxed. Kerry-Anne. She hadn’t noticed Nora because one child was wailing and she was trying to pacify the distressed,