‘Cool.’
As they made their way between the shelves Hanna smiled. ‘You’ll need to be aware of our resident eccentrics.’
Darina Kelly, a ditzy middle-aged mum, and Mr Maguire, a retired teacher, were serial joiners. If a club was set up, or a group formed, they were always first in line. Neither would have expected to be bracketed with the other, but Hanna always thought of them with the same resigned frisson of dread. On good days, she recognised that their eagerness was admirable. On a busy day, or during an interesting session, she frequently cursed Darina’s non-sequiturs, and Mr Maguire’s pedantic affectations. She knew, however, that Darina struggled with the pressures of late motherhood and that Mr Maguire was lost without his classroom.
Cassie grinned. ‘No problem. I’m used to dealing with rich weirdos on luxury cruises.’
Hanna remembered that her daughter, Jazz, who’d worked for a budget airline, often said the same thing about dealing with difficult customers: ‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ve coped with plenty of weirdos on late flights to Málaga!’ Evidently you got eccentrics at both ends of the economic scale.
Over the next couple of hours she showed Cassie how to find books in stock and to input requests on the interlibrary loan system; walked her briskly round the audiobooks and music section; warned her that toddlers in Children’s Corner must be accompanied by a responsible adult; and concluded by showing her where the mugs and biscuits were kept in the kitchen. ‘And remember this. The public mustn’t bring food and drink in, so you and I don’t have tea breaks at the desk.’
‘Got it.’ As they stood in the kitchen doorway, Cassie looked down the oak-panelled room, which was flooded with morning sunlight. ‘It’s a nice place.’
‘I like it. Well, actually, I love it, so I hope you’ll be happy while you’re here. By the way, you needn’t worry about the exhibition space: in the summer we’ve got volunteer guides but, ultimately, it’s my responsibility. And the gift shop isn’t open at this time of year.’
Back at the desk, Cassie studied a list of online resources. After a few minutes, she swung her chair round in surprise. ‘Wow, libraries offer a shedload of stuff.’
Hanna laughed. ‘It may look daunting but you’ll soon get up to speed.’
‘I’m not daunted, I just didn’t know you could access so much. Dumb of me.’ Cassie wrinkled her nose. ‘I’ve been wondering if Pat could join a club here again. Something exciting to take her out of herself.’
‘Well, we do have a book club but I’m not sure I’d call it exciting.’
Cassie looked at her anxiously. ‘She was still in shock and pretty miserable, but Pat got out and met people at the Shamrock Club. I think it was good for her.’
‘There’s a leaflet about it there. Why not take it home to her?’ Hanna was tempted to add that dealing with loss would take more than just joining a book club. Nevertheless, one had to start somewhere, and she understood Cassie’s sense of being on a mission. Unlike Pat’s quiet stoicism, Mary’s grief when Tom died had expressed itself in loud demands for attention and, irritating though these had been, Hanna had felt it was her job to make things better. Mary had moved on since then but, emotionally, she was still high-maintenance, relying heavily on family for company, and texting neighbours with fussy requests that were largely calls for attention. Pat, who was far more self-contained, would never make demands on neighbours or family, but perhaps that was all the more reason to fear that she’d become reclusive.
Then again, Pat had Mary. Until recently, Hanna had assumed their friendship was one-sided, with Pat offering constant support and Mary being a trial. But since Ger’s death Pat had increasingly turned to her oldest friend, who’d responded with a warmth that Hanna saw as uncharacteristic. Perhaps, she told herself wryly, there was still hope for herself and her difficult mother. Maybe, at this late stage in her life, the leopard was changing her spots.
By the end of the day Cassie had successfully issued loans and received returns under Hanna’s supervision, and the library’s regular users were clearly enjoying her presence. As Hanna unplugged the computers and lowered the blinds, she asked about Cassie’s plans for the rest of the evening. ‘Have you recovered from the jetlag?’
‘You don’t get much coming in this direction. But I did spend ages last night Snapchatting with Erin.’
‘She’s your cousin?’
‘Her gran, Josie, is Pat’s first cousin. I don’t know what that makes Erin and me. Thirds or something? Anyway, Josie got Pat the job in Resolve when she went there a million years ago.’
‘Nice that you and Erin get on.’
‘She’s fun. I like her a lot.’
‘Do you think you’ll go back and visit?’
They had strolled down to the kitchen where Cassie bent down to take her bag from the locker under the coatrack. ‘Could do. I dunno.’
As she stood up her face was flushed and she seemed slightly forlorn. Hanna felt a rush of sympathy. ‘It’s a shame there isn’t more family here to help Pat.’
‘Yeah. Well, my mom and dad had to go home directly after the funeral. So did Uncle Jim and his lot. It was a big deal to take time off work.’
‘Of course.’ Hanna reached for her jacket. She hadn’t had any intention of criticising Pat’s family. The remark had been prompted by her reflections on her own problems with Mary. Lifting her own bag from the locker, she leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Everyone here in Lissbeg will want to do their best for Pat. She’s well loved. You mustn’t think there’s no one around to give you and her a hand. My mother can be difficult but she’ll always be there for Pat. They go back a long way.’ Taking the library keys from their hook, Hanna grinned at Cassie. ‘Actually, Mary’s at a bit of a loose end, these days. My daughter, Jazz, is away with her other gran, and Mary’s missing them. So you may find her at Pat’s quite a lot.’
Cassie laughed. ‘I’m kind of fond of your mom. She’s feisty.’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’ Hanna checked the kitchen switches and led the way to the door. ‘The point is that you’re not alone, Cassie. The whole town will be looking out for Pat.’
Cassie nodded thoughtfully. ‘I know that. You’re right, though. It’s at times like this that families need to face stuff together. I hadn’t thought of it that way before.’
Chapter Eight
Having crossed the road to pick up cheesecake from the deli, Cassie went home with the leaflet about the book club, intending to entertain Pat with stories about her day. There was plenty to tell. Darina Kelly’s kids, who were famously undisciplined, had arrived on their own, saying their mother had told them to read a book while she had her hair done. Setanta, a burly five-year-old, had announced loudly that his mum was having her roots touched. ‘When she doesn’t, she looks like marmalade on toast.’
Gobnit, Setanta’s eight-year-old elder sister, had hushed him fiercely. ‘You’re not allowed to say that, Porky. Shut up.’
‘And you’re not supposed to call me Porky. If you do, I’ll call you FartFace.’