Work Text:
Tom watched as she walked through the door, he could almost set his watch to it. Every day, from half-past twelve until quarter to two, she sat in the reading section, going through as many pages as she could before she would leave again, taking a bite of a sandwich as she walked out the door. He had been working at the library to assist himself through college and when he got his degree, the main woman in charge of his favourite section went on maternity leave and they were desperate for a replacement and asked him to consider it instead of a gap year. He was still trying to figure out what he wanted from life, so having a job he loved and so close to home, he thought it was a good idea. The woman decided not to return to work, having decided to get pregnant again soon after number one was born and finding out she was having twins, she and her husband thought it best she take a career break to raise three children under the age of two, so his six months work had turned to a year before being offered a full-time position.
He decided that the life he had suited him well, and after almost fifteen years, he had never regretted it, having been promoted to second in command due to his dedication and clear love of his job. His favourite was Shakespeare, the Bard was the literary genius that always held his attention, so that section became his child, he loved every new copy they received, every DVD of another live performance that had made its way through theatre.
She started coming in about three months before, every day, Monday to Saturday, at the same time and doing the same thing. The only difference was the books that she chose, but even that had a rhythm to it. An Autobiography on Mondays and Thursdays, a Booker prize winner on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and on Tuesdays and Fridays, well that was the fun one, at first, she seemed to just choose something at random, but it had to be fun, it had to make her smile or quietly giggle as she read it. Tom tried to be at a point where he could see her smile, it was pure, she was so genuinely happy, it made him feel happier in himself too.
He had no idea where she was staying or what she was doing exactly, and that made him curious. So many entered and were so lonely that they would talk for hours if he allowed them, especially older people. He always was sadly happy to listen to them and their lives before age stopped their ability to do most things, the heartbreaking ones were the widowers. People assumed women needed men, but when their husbands died, they seemed to keep busy, going to Bingo and Card nights with other women and going out for coffees, but the men, they seemed so lost and lonely. Most had the same story, busy children, off with their own families and not having time for them, and how they loved A, B and C about their deceased wives, he got caught more than once with it, too nice to walk away or tell them to be quiet. After the third week of her coming, the mystery girl got caught by one such fellow, Reginald (not Reg, that was improper) while reading, him saying that she reminded him of his lovely Rosanna, who had died three years previous, and that was the only day of the week Tom no longer was the one to speak with the old man, instead, she took his place, sitting with him in a quiet corner and letting him ramble away, listening intently.
‘You know, by your age my Arthur was starting secondary.’ Tom turned to see Reginald looking at him.
‘It is amazing how different the world is these days, nowadays that would be deemed too young to be a father of a boy that old.’ He smiled politely back.
‘A young lad like you, shouldn’t you be out chasing some young ladies around the town?’
‘I…’ Tom looked at him, uncertain.
‘Don’t pull anything with me young man, you have no ring on and you never talk about some lovely young lady waiting for you when you get home. How are you supposed to experience the best in life if you are waiting for it to find you here in this library with old farts like me?’
‘Not everyone has set goals.’ Tom stated unsurely.
‘I may be senile, but I am not blind, you only read books of love and happiness, where is your own?’ Tom swallowed. ‘I told Amy, I said “Amy, that boy is like you, allowing himself to age in this library”.’ Tom frowned, not knowing who Amy was. ‘Youth is wasted on the young.’ Reginald shook his head.
Tom went about tidying the aisles again, he always did so before he went for his afternoon cuppa, he had his own routine, brunch at eleven with a tea, then a slightly late lunch at two, and before he knows it, he is tidying up for the evening.
The rows of books were his sanctuary from nosy older gentlemen who forgot it is not socially acceptable to ask when someone planned to settle down or came from a time where it was expected to do so, regardless of thoughts on the matter. He walked to the reading section, where people would go to settle with a book, mystery girl included.
Tom tidied the area she usually sat, she was a tidy person, leaving everything where she found it, but in general, so few were as considerate. He checked everything was as it needed to be before he went back to the main desk to see Reginald standing there with a book he had not seen before. ‘What have you there?’
‘I found it, on the floor, it’s not one of yours.’ The man held out the book. Immediately Tom knew he was right. It was not a library book, it had no title or writing on the outside to suggest its contents, but he did recognise it from a stationary shop he frequented himself. Opening the front cover, he looked at the name inside, “Amy Jones”, but nothing more to tell him of her. He opened the next page and his eyes widened, there were random notes, the writing legible enough, and lines everywhere as well as different colour pens, looking at it, he realised it was a plot chart, the next page was a character chart, as well as giving everything needed to set up the main traits of characters, in two sets, major and minor. He felt exhilarated as he read the small details, notes added over time, even post-its added to include different titbits here and there, small nuances that would add to anything written. Tom found himself wanting to go through the book, reading every note, but he forced himself to close it again and get on with his work. ‘I will keep it behind the counter here, thank you, Reginald. If you notice anyone missing it, let them know we have it here.’
‘Righto.’ The old man nodded before tottering off for himself back to read the newspaper.
Tom put the book somewhere safe with a note and went to get his lunch. When he returned and until he locked up for the evening, no one came for the book. Keeping it on the desk, he made sure it was safe until the following morning.
The next day started as all others did, though Tom found himself very intrigued by the book left behind. He found himself glancing at it when he would have been far better served working, and before long, he was flicking through it again, seeing that there were complexed character arcs, plots and subplots, character traits and even physical appearances. “Amy” had clearly spent time doing this, he wondered did she have it written, or was it in progress, he feared for the latter, there was no way she could remember all of this off the top of her head.
Before long, his favourite time came. Half past twelve, and like every other time, she came in, only today she did not give her smiling salute, instead, she seemed sidetracked and did not seem to notice he was even there. Slightly startled, he watched from the corner of his eye as she went about until he realised she was searching for something, before long, she came to the counter, which Tom was outside, polishing the front of the desk, ‘Sorry, is Reginald here today?’
‘Who?’
‘He’s a sweet and overly nosey old man.’ she began.
‘Yes, I know him, no he’s not usually here again until tomorrow, he collects his pension today apparently and that means having to bark at some Post Office worker, his words, not mine.’ He smiled back.
‘Yeah, that’s him. Thank you.’ She seemed downtrodden and began to walk to the front door and not to her usual spot.
‘Is there something I can help you with?’ He offered, not liking the alteration to her routine, seeing she was clearly upset about something.
‘I doubt it.’
‘Is it to do with here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then surely I can?’
‘How many books have you got here?’
‘In my section, fourteen thousand, six hundred and seventy-four.’
‘That is a serious amount of Shakespeare.’
‘Not just him, but he is sort of my centrepiece.’
‘You really love your job, don’t you?’ She gave a genuine smile, no condescending undertone like others had given in the past. Tom had tried dating, but most women saw him loving his modest income job as a sign of laziness or lack of drive.
‘I do actually, I genuinely do.’
‘I envy you.’
‘What do you do?’
‘Bookkeeping, don’t laugh, I wanted to be an accountant but if the shit hits the fan with a business hiding money or avoiding taxation, they take the fall, I didn’t want that and I get to stay living here and not in a tiny cramped flat in London paying a thousand a month and spending more of my day commuting that actually working.’
‘Smart move.’
‘You are the first person to say that.’ She stated factually. ‘If I hear my mother say one more time it was a waste of my degree…’
‘In accounting?’ She nodded. ‘Better than me, I did one in Classics and work here.’
‘That explains how I found so many of them in here.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks anyway.’
‘You never explained what your problem was?’
‘If you have fourteen and a half thousand books, you won’t have a hope of helping me find mine.’
‘Amy?’ She stared at him oddly. ‘You are Amy, Amy Jones?’
‘Yes?’ She seemed half frighted to admit to her name.
‘I have your book behind the counter.’ He walked back behind. ‘It is a bound book from Waterstones.’
Her face went from one of concerned surprise to relief. ‘Yes!’ It turned into an all-out beaming smile when he held it up. ‘Thank you so much, where did you find it?’
‘I cannot take the credit, our mutual friend is the finder.’ She frowned at him. ‘Reginald.’
She paused for a moment before becoming somewhat annoyed. ‘That interfering….Oh, I am going to give out to him something terrible.’
‘Sorry?’ Tom looked at her worried.
‘He has been badgering me for weeks about the “lovely man who works here” and to go out to you.’ She explained. ‘He was messing with this yesterday.’ She held up the book. ‘And realised it was of importance to me. After he left, I realised it was gone, but I did not seem it in his hands so I didn’t realise...I am so sorry.’
Tom recalled the times Reginald mentioned “Amy” to him and chuckled. ‘It is quite alright, I think he was trying to do the same with me.’
‘Jesus, he is a terrible nuisance, what’ll we do with him?’ She shook her head.
‘I’m not sure.’ Tom grinned, he looked at how her smile caused small dimples in her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes. He realised from her comments on her career that she was extremely similar to him in some ways. ‘Perhaps….’ she looked at him intently, ‘Nevermind, sorry, I shouldn’t bother you.’
She frowned at him before nodding slightly. ‘I better…’ she pointed to the door.
‘No lunchtime read today?’
‘No, I...it’s probably best if I leave that now…’ she stated sadly before walking to the door. ‘Thanks again.’ Tom gave a small wave and watched sadly after she left.
The next day, Reginald was in at his usual time, grinning somewhat. ‘Did you find the owner of that book?’
‘She knows it was you, I’m afraid, I think you’re in trouble.’ Tom warned as he put books back on shelves.
‘Women get so bothered by a helping hand sometimes.’ The old man shook his head.
‘It was mean, she looked like she had been panicking about that book.’
‘You’ll be stocking it here yet, wait and see. I might not be around by then, but she’ll make it.’
Tom paused, realising just how fleeting knowing the old man could be. ‘You putting yourself in the box already?’
‘Well if it takes her three months to speak to you, how long will that book take?’
‘Maybe she doesn’t want to speak to me.’ Tom commented, ‘Had you thought about that?’
‘Have you thought about why a girl that has a job in money who can afford her own books comes in here every day you are working and stays for her lunch? It’s not to look at old men like me, you know?’ Reginald smiled, tottering off to do his usual read of the papers, leaving Tom to think about what he had said.
Half twelve came and went, but there was no sign of Amy. By two o’clock and his own lunch came, Tom was confused. The next day the same, then Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, there was no sign of her again. It was Thursday evening, the library was still open but his shift ended at six, so he went to Waterstones to get a book he had wanted to add to his own personal library at home, grateful that the bookshop had late opening hours on a Thursday. It was there he saw her again, looking at a book he knew she had been reading in the library, she had started it only the week before she lost her book. In her hands was another book she had been reading that he knew she was currently in the middle of in the library. With a courage he did not think he had, he walked over to her. ‘Hello.’
Amy turned and her face paled. ‘Hi.’
‘Reginald was asking for you during the week, he thought you were ill.’
‘No, I’m fine.’ She stated and said nothing more, looking at him silently instead.
Tom sensed her discomfort. ‘Those are great books.’ He indicated to the ones in her hand, not wanting to admit he knew she had been reading them.
‘Yes, they are.’ She smiled, looking at them.
‘You read them?’
‘Halfway through both,’ She explained.
‘We have them at the library you know?’
‘Yeah, I do.’ She nodded. ‘I just…’
‘Listen, Amy…about last week…’
‘I’m sorry Reginald caused you such bother about me.’
‘What, no, that’s not a problem at all.’ Tom dismissed. ‘I’m sorry he stole your book, he all but admitted it, by the way.’
‘There’s a shock.’
‘We haven’t seen you in a week…’
‘I am busy.’ She explained.
‘But you know you can borrow the books from the library and not spend….Jesus, that is twenty-seven pounds.’ He looked at the price tag on one book. ‘We have that and you can borrow for free.’
‘I know.’ She nodded, not allowing herself to look at him.
‘Is it me?’ She gave him a baffled look. ‘Am I the reason you stopped coming, did I make you uncomfortable?’
‘No, not at all, you are incredibly nice and welcoming. It’s...it’s not healthy to sit in a library at my lunch and not interact with people.’
Tom stared at her, it was clear she did not believe those words, which were more than likely someone else’s used to justify telling her off about it. ‘If you’re not healthy, what am I?’
‘You work there.’
‘I also spend my lunch there, and I can find myself there on days off.’ He admitted. ‘There is nothing shameful about reading.’
‘Not even Fifty Shades?’
‘Okay, maybe you wouldn’t promote the fact you are reading that, but still, there is nothing wrong with it.’
‘Reginald is right though, as well as other people, I am spending too long reading about happiness and love, but not actively seeking it for myself.’ She shrugged.
Tom could not say anything in return to counter that, he was guilty of it himself. ‘You need to make you happy; if the library does that, why change it?’
‘But I am not entirely happy, it’s depressing reading books where the girl gets a happy ending and I am sitting there growing old wanting it and not…Jesus, I am embarrassing myself, I’m sorry...Tom, right?’
‘Yes, it’s Tom.’
‘You look like a Tom,’ she smiled. ‘Or a William.’
‘William is my middle name actually,’ he chuckled, smiling back at her.
‘God, now I sound weird and embarrassing. I didn’t know that beforehand, I swear.’
‘I gathered. At least I know my parents named me well.’ He licked his teeth as he thought. ‘Look, I don’t want to sound creepy, but please don’t pay a fortune for books you have half read already unless you really want to, we have them for free and if you do not want to spend all your free time there, that is your choice, but you are always welcome.’
‘You make it sound as though I do something there.’
‘You do, Reginald genuinely misses you, I think he feels guilty for scaring you off.’ She gave a small smile, as though she was not convinced. ‘You are one of the politest and tidiest people we have come in, it is always a pleasure to see you smile or hear you laugh at something you read.’ That caused her to raise a brow, slightly startled at his confession, causing him to swear. ‘Shit, now I look like a total fruit and nut cake.’ She gave a small smile. ‘Please don’t stop going there from time to time, you always seem happy to be going there and relaxed when you are.’
‘We’ll see.’ She gave a small smile, but to his delight, he watched as she put the books back. ‘I better go, I need to get a train. Bye.’
‘Bye.’ He watched her leave before looking at the book she had been planning to buy and hoped she would come back.
She did not come the next day at her usual time, causing him to become concerned she had just tried to flee him since he had been an absolute weirdo and admitted to paying more attention to her than could be deemed healthy. By closing time, he felt somewhat hurt and downtrodden. When he locked up, he realised he felt the same as the time he had been stood up on a date with a girl he really liked a few years previous.
Disheartened, he arrived to work the next morning. When Reginald came in, he gave the old man his best attempt at a smile.
‘She never showed?’
‘No.’ Tom conceded. ‘I guess she was just…’ He shrugged.
‘Do you know how I got to know my Rosanna?’
‘Badgering her in a library and stealing her book?’ Tom asked, but his attempt at a smile fell after it.
‘No, she worked in a dull little factory I was working in, typing away for herself. I knew about her for a year before she ever knew of me. I would watch her every day, concentrating on her work, when I finally said something, she scarpered off, yabbering about having to get work done, but I was patient, when the next payday came, she smiled and handed me my pay, it wasn’t her job to do that, but that’s when I offered to take her to dinner, she laughed, knowing the pittance I was paid, but we went and got a chips and sandwich and walked by the dock. I fell in love with her without ever talking to her, but when we spoke, I knew, I knew the moment she started humming Sinatra that she was for me.’ Reginald smiled, tears in his eyes as he thought of his wife.
‘How long before you got her to marry you?’
‘Six months.’
‘Fast worker.’ Tom again attempted to smile.
‘When you know, you know,’ Reginald smiled. ‘Fifty-three years we were with one another, she was five years younger, I thought she’d outlive me. It’s not nice being the one left, but I am glad she didn’t have to be the lonely one.’
Tom felt completely winded at the idea of such, his parents divorced when he was in school, he never got to see them grow old together, now when he saw them, they were two entirely separate people.
He was working around the aisles halfway through lunchtime when he paused and found himself giving the first genuine smile he had given in a week. There was Amy, looking at the shelves. He walked over immediately trying to stop himself smiling too much as he reached her. ‘Looking for something?’
‘Hi.’ She gave a small smile. ‘I thought over what you said, and from a financial point of view; unless I want them to keep for personal reasons, you’re right, there is no justifying paying twenty-seven pound for a book I might not read again.’
‘A wise financial decision.’
‘But it’s gone.’ She pointed to the shelf sadly.
Tom gave a sly smile. ‘Not exactly.’ He winked and indicated for her to follow him. He brought her to the front desk and took out the books she had in her hand in the bookshop. ‘I thought you’d come for them.’
She blushed as she took them. ‘Thank you.’
While giving her the books, their hands touched, sending sparks of sensation through both of them, Tom’s ears going red as Amy bit her lips together. ‘Sorry.’ Tom coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as soon as she took them.
‘Thank you, I…’ She paused. ‘I best let you get back to your day.’
‘Yes, you usually leave about for work.’ Tom pointed to the clock.
‘It’s Saturday, I don’t work Saturdays.’
Tom frowned. ‘You always come in, though.’
She stared at the books, ‘I didn’t like sitting in my flat alone.’ She admitted.
Tom was about to speak when the head librarian came over. ‘Hey Tom, I know you usually go to lunch at two, but my son is coming back from the States today, you wouldn’t mind going early so I can get home earlier, do you?’
‘Not at all.’ Tom smiled.
‘Thank you, Tom, you’re a champ.’ The man walked off again.
‘I better let you get your lunch.’ Amy smiled.
‘Would you like to join me?’
‘What?’
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t…’
‘Okay.’
‘I mean, it’s rude to assume….wait, okay? As in, yes?’ He looked at her hopefully.
‘Yes.’
‘Really?’
‘Em...Yeah?’ She stated, seemingly regretting her decision.
Tom decided to prevent himself from making any more of a hame of the situation and simply indicated to the door. ‘Great, do you have a preference?’
‘I’m easy going, if they have a sandwich or a nice soup is good.’
‘The Red Lion pub has a great soup and sandwich.’ He offered. ‘Or is that too much at once?’
She laughed slightly before indicating to herself. ‘I am not someone who worries too much if I see a calorie.’
‘Good.’ He meant it, he disliked seeing girls worrying about such things. ‘Shall we?’
The pair walked out of the library, smiling and talking to one another as they did so, not realising there was someone watching them.
‘Are you alright now Reginald?’ The other librarian asked as he went over to the smiling old man ‘What was that about, dare I ask? Jack isn’t back until later this evening.’
‘Sometimes you need to do work for people, Martin.’ Reginald stated. The other librarian, not having seen Tom leave with Amy, looked at the old man as though he was mad before going about his work, glad he suggested he take an earlier day so to get ready for his son. Reginald watched as Tom and Amy walked down the street passed the closest window to him. ‘That’s a good pairing,’ he nodded to himself before taking out an old pocket watch and looking at the picture in it, ‘Just like us Rosanna, they just needed a good kick in the right direction.’ He stated, watching as Tom linked arms with Amy, her leaning in against him. ‘Just like us.’