No
Typical Librarian
by
Mary Thompson
It was a miserably dark January morning
– rain was falling in torrents and my old shoes were starting
to let in water. I looked around in desperation and suddenly spotted
the library. Cautiously pushing open the heavy wooden door, I magically
found myself in a haven of peace and quiet, a world away from the
frenetic confusion of the high street outside. I wasn’t quite
sure what to do – everyone seemed purposefully busy –
I had no reason to be there and didn’t know why I had come.
I was ashamed to admit that I had never even been to a library before
and in all honesty felt like a fish out of water. My raincoat was
drenched and I started to shiver.
‘Can I be of help, sir?’ A voice suddenly punctured
my reveries. I involuntarily let out a gasp when I saw her as she
was not my idea of a typical librarian – mid twenties probably,
with glossy, chestnut brown curls cascading to her shoulders. She
had on a crisp white blouse buttoned up to the neck and a pair of
loose black trousers. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her lips
pillar-box red. She wore a warm, welcoming smile. I hesitated.
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‘Er, I’m not sure.’
I said, apologetically. ‘It was raining you see and I needed
somewhere to shelter. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have
come.’
‘Oh don’t go,’ she pleaded, ‘I’m sure
I can find something you’ll enjoy. Come with me.’
I followed her, partly out of a feeling of politeness but also because
I didn’t really know what else to do. There was nowhere I
needed to be at this time, no one who needed me – it was a
strangely awful feeling. I followed the tip tap of her heels moving
softly across the hard marble floor. We passed the history and music
sections. She seemed to know what she was looking for.
‘What kind of books do you like?’ she asked suddenly,
turning to look at me.
‘Er, I don’t read much,’ I started to say, when
suddenly a paperback caught my eye. I carefully took it off the
shelf, very aware of the girl’s presence. Feeling a lump in
my throat I started to cough. Conscious of my embarrassment she
gave me a friendly pat on the arm and turned to go.
‘My name’s Liz,’ she said, ‘please let me
know if you need any more help.’
‘Thank you, you’ve been very kind.’ I replied.
I watched as she disappeared down one of the aisles. Squeezing myself
onto the end of a crowded table, I tentatively opened the book and
began to read. The quiet, yet persistent rain drummed down on the
roof as the afternoon ticked by and before I knew it, it was 5 pm
and I was being asked to leave.
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