A Year Earlier. Chapter One

A Chapter by Alice

Disturbing news

A YEAR EARLIER

CHAPTER ONE

Yewell Town Library makes its home in a magnificent Edwardian building on the Old Town Square, funded, as so many were way back when, by a grant from the Carnegie Trust, named after the famous Scottish philanthropist. Over the years the building has been added to and the library now shares its nest with the Mayor's parlour and the local history exhibition. I've worked there for three years now; the hours are good and it pays the bills. I love books, always got one on the go, so the library is one of my favourite places to be. The rooms are tranquil and quiet, and the store room has the marvellous aroma of knowledge and eons past.

It was a quiet morning in the middle of the Easter hols; no group visits, no displays, no activities until after lunch. The sun had decided to put in an early appearance this year, and Easter had been as late as it can be. So late, in fact, that the school holidays would not end until after May Day, a rare occurrence. The fine weather meant that we could hold today's Teddy Bears' Picnic for the under fives in Carnegie Park behind the library.

Everyone was bringing their favourite Teddy or cuddly beast, and there would be juice and biscuits and bear related fun. My task was to find the story books, crayons and paper and sticky stuff. I was looking forward to some park-life too, in my lunch break. The new Viola Nolan mystery had just arrived and I had snagged a copy.

I was pulling story books from the shelves and checking them off on my list of supplies when Mrs Roth came out of her office and down the hallway, steering a determine course in my direction. Lyndsay Roth, Town Hall Administrator, ran her domain like a well oiled machine. Everything had a time and a place, and woe betide anyone who caused a disruption. She put the fear of God into everyone she encountered, even His Honour the Mayor of Yewell, and right now she looked mighty irritated. There used to be a Mr Roth, no one really knew what had become of him, but for my money, I think she probably ate him.

“Ms Jackson!” she boomed across the room.

I cringed inwardly, dreading the outcome of this intrusion into my working day. A few people in the room turned to stare at me.

“Someone's in trouble, girl-friend” sang my best friend Dolly, as he ambled past with the returns trolley.

We had been friends since school and Dolly always had my back. Not on this occasion, perhaps.

Mrs Roth came to an abrupt halt in front of me. Barely five feet tall, and almost as round, she looked up and fixed me with her penetrating glare. I felt about five years old.

“As I've told you before, Ms Jackson, no personal calls to the main office. Your aunt is on the telephone. Please inform her of our no call policy. And take careful note, Ms Jackson, I am not employed to take messages.”

Nothing more, no pleasantries. Mrs Roth pivoted on her heels and marched back to her office with me in her wake. It was like being summoned to the headmistress's office, a situation I had often found myself in.

“What are you waiting for girl!” she barked, before folding her arms over her chubby boson and planting herself firmly in the hallway, thus blocking any retreat.

My heart beat a tattoo in my chest as I entered the office. Something must have been terribly wrong for my great aunt to ring me at work instead of sending a text as usual.

Tentatively I picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Aunt Jen. How are you?”

“Hello, Emily” Aunt Jen answered, but there was something in her voice, uncertainty, as if she had something difficult to say “I'm not very good, my asthma is bad. Peggy came round and she insisted that I go to the doctor, wouldn't take no for an answer. She drove me to the surgery herself.”

Peggy Scott and Aunt Jen both attended the Church of St Sophia, a close-knit bunch, who looked out for each other. It was a great relief to know there was always someone for Jen to call upon in times of need.

She was definitely having difficulties with her breathing. I could hear her gasp between words. This wasn't anything new; Aunt Jen had suffered asthma attacks for all of her seventy-five years. Every time she caught a cold or got the flu, it took her longer than most people to recover. She had an inhaler, and a prescription for steroids if she needed them. Animal hair never caused a problem. but she was always very careful about dust mites. Her bungalow was kept in tip-top shape with the help of a Mrs Mop, who called every Tuesday to do a once-through. But Jen never let her condition slow her down. She must have been feeling really rough to have called me at work.

“The doctor thinks I have a chest infection”Jen continued, “but he wants me to get checked out at the hospital, at Yewell Memorial.”

OK, so Aunt Jen was going to Yewell Memorial. Uncle Lewis had been there loads of times.

“Emily? Are you still there?”

Pulling myself together I asked,”How will you get there? Do you want me to go with you? Do you need Dolly to give you a lift?”

“Peggy and Alfred are going to take me after lunch,” Jen answered. “Try not to worry, Emily. It's just a precaution. You know Dr Carter gets a little over cautious with his older patients. I'll ring this evening and let you know how I get on.”

Despite her false bravado, there was a quaver in her voice which led me to think there was more to this than she let on. A chest infection was just the tip of the iceberg. As I hurried back into the library Mrs Roth reclaimed her office. She turned in the doorway and shot a penetrating glare at my retreating back. A feeling of apprehension crept over me, not just because Aunt Jen was ill. This was familiar territory. We had been down this road before with Uncle Lewis.

It had started with an infection and carried on for several years; Every time Lewis came home from hospital he was a little frailer, and would be at home for only two or three weeks before going back again. He had passed away only a year ago, and now the cycle was beginning again.

While I located the remaining books for the picnic I remembered Aunt Jen's words. 'Don't worry'. How could I not? Aunt Jen was like a grandmother to me, a mother even. aAfter mum died I went to live with our grandmother. Gran was gone now and Jen had taken over her role. Our lives were intertwined, even more so now she was on her own. We spent Easter and Christmas together, phoned and texted snippets of news. We only lived five minutes walk apart, so I visited almost every day.

But this was unusual for her ring me at work, in the morning, on the main office line. Jen knew I would be taking my lunch break in a short while She could have rung my mobile then. What was happening to cause her such concern?

All through the afternoon, while I was helping to entertain about twenty over-active toddlers, I had an uneasy feeling. A sense of hard times ahead. But no one could have predicted the roller-coaster we were about to ride over the coming months.

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