The Library of Lost and Found. Phaedra Patrick

number correctly. ‘It’s Martha Storm, from the library.’

      ‘Oh, sorry. I couldn’t get to the phone in time. Dad’s out. This is Greg.’

      ‘Greg?’

      ‘Owen’s son.’

      Now he said this, it made sense to Martha. He spoke in a similar way to Owen, searching around for his words. His voice was a little deeper and slower.

      ‘Well, I’m sorry for disturbing you,’ she said, surprised at how disappointed she felt not reaching Owen. ‘Please tell your father I rang, and—’

      ‘Dad told me about you,’ Greg chipped in. ‘I’ve not seen him so animated for a long time. You’re phoning about the date and photo, right?’

      Martha’s right eyebrow twitched upwards. ‘Um, I don’t know anything about those.’

      ‘Oh, right. Didn’t you get Dad’s email?’

      ‘I’m not in work today to access a computer.’ She ran a hand through her hair. ‘What’s the photo of?’

      ‘I’m not sure. It’s part of a newspaper clipping, I think. Dexter emailed Dad and he forwarded it on to you.’

      Martha bit her lip, wondering how she could get to see it. The library closed on Tuesdays and she didn’t want to wait until the next day. Perhaps she could let herself into the building, without bumping into anyone who’d witnessed her embarrassing outburst.

      ‘Um, is that okay?’ Greg asked.

      ‘Yes. It’s fine,’ Martha said, her eyes flicking towards her pantry, where she kept a set of emergency keys. ‘I’m sure I can figure something out.’