‘Ach, it’s just a crisp and cheddar butty an’ a brew,’ Austen replied, squashing her crisps between thick, white, buttered bread slices with a satisfying crunch before taking a big bite.
‘No, I mean this,’ said Annie. ‘Letting me hide out here… Hold on! Crisps and cheese? That’s genius.’
‘I know.’ Austen took a big bite. ‘Has to be salt and vinegar, mind.’ She let Annie enjoy her first taste. ‘Good, right?’
It really was good. Annie hadn’t had time for breakfast in her hurry to get away from the shop this morning and her stomach had been growling as she worked. Harri’s consolation prize coffee had turned cold in the paper cup.
One of Annie’s favourite things about Austen, aside from her generosity and her taste in snacks, was that she didn’t ask prying questions. Anyone else in Clove Lore would want to know why she was hiding out from Harri. Having been a Borrower herself, maybe Austen could appreciate how stressful it was when the whole village tried to insert themselves into the lives of their vacationers.
‘You looked busy,’ Annie said between bites.
All morning Austen had been curled up on the sofa at Annie’s back, with headphones jammed over her ears, taking handwritten notes from a textbook.
‘I’ve got an assessment coming up. Bibliotherapy.’ She took a slurp of tea and caught Annie’s questioning eyes. ‘What’s bibliotherapy, right?’
‘Yeah. Sorry. Haven’t heard of it. It sounds like something I should know about.’
‘You’d love it. I’m doing an online course just to learn the basics, now that I’m running loads of creative writing workshops and things.’
‘You were so good with the kids the other day,’ Annie cut in.
‘Thanks. They’re easier to handle than an adults’ creative writing circle, that’s for sure.’ Austen’s laugh was bright and easy. ‘But your silent reading night was actually more like bibliotherapy than my kids’ poetry session was.’
‘It was?’
‘Yep, reading for wellbeing,’ Austen said.
Annie remembered how much she’d enjoyed sitting by the fire, lost in her novel, surrounded by people who no longer felt like strangers. It had been the first time in months she could read at all, let aloneenjoyreading. The blockage, whether it had been to do with Cassidy or the school, had shifted that night and she’d simply enjoyed the feeling of her eyes moving across the lines, absorbing the racy, lavish storytelling. ‘I think I know what you’re saying,’ Annie told her.
‘It’s all about matching the right book to the right person at the right time. It can be therapeutic and healing; transformative even.’
‘In that case, I knowexactlywhat you mean. I used to be…’ Annie stopped herself. ‘Iaman assistant librarian in a school. I’ve seen kids who hated reading find their way to exactly the right story for them and,bam! It’s love!’ She could picture those kids’ faces. She knew that look in their eye when the magic was happening. ‘The right book can be a huge comfort.’
‘Exactly!’ agreed Austen. ‘Books tell you you’re not alone. That’s what this essay assignment’s about; mental health and the solace of reading. Reading, letting our imaginations run wild, rehearsing difficult feelings or working through tough situations from a safe distance, all that stuff happens when we’re reading, and those processes help us turn pain and trauma into creativity and healing. Happiness too. I can’t imagine living without reading. It’s like breathing to me.’
‘Can I read it when you’re done?’ The words had blurted out. Annie forgot she was supposed to be reserved around these folks, but Austen seemed delighted.
‘I would love that! And any feedback you’ve got?’
‘You want to know what I think of it? Really?’
Austen mugged amazement. ‘You’re an actual librarian, aren’t you? Of course I do!’
The tiny ember of determination that her morning’s work had ignited within her burst into a flame now. ‘You’re right,’ said Annie, resolutely. ‘I am an actual librarian.’
She opened her emails again and started to compose a message.
Dear Principal Johnson, it began.
Chapter Twenty-One
Unpacking
‘Book stewardship, you see,’ William was explaining, having at last put his book down and settled to a little work, hunched over one of the open boxes from Castle Lore, ‘…is both a vocation and a calling.’
Jowan made a gruff sound to show his agreement while William pulled out paperback after paperback looking at them like they were old friends.
‘You chose well, young Harri.’
