Page 53 - The Midnight Library

www.urdukutabkhanapk.blogspot.com
www.urdukutabkhanapk.blogspot.com

She was in some kind of hallway or corridor. Terracotta floor tiles. Low

wood panelling and, above, wallpaper full of illustrations of sycamore leaves.
She walked down the little corridor and into the main pub area which she
had peeked at through the window. She jumped as a cat appeared out of
nowhere.

An elegant, angular chocolate Burmese purring away. She bent down and
stroked it and looked at the engraved name on the disc attached to the collar.
Voltaire.
A different cat, with the same name. Unlike her dear beloved ginger tabby,

she doubted this Voltaire was a rescue. e cat began to purr. ‘Hello, Volts
Number Two. You seem happy here. Are we all as happy as you?’
e cat purred a possible affirmation and rubbed his head against Nora’s
leg. She picked him up and went over to the bar. ere was a row of cra

beers on the pumps, stouts and ciders and pale ales and IPAs. Vicar’s
Favourite. Lost and Found. Miss Marple. Sleeping Lemons. Broken Dream.
ere was a charity tin on the bar for Butterfly Conser vation.
She heard the sound of clinking glass. As if a dishwasher was being filled.

Nora felt anxiety constrict her chest. A familiar sensation. en a spindly
twenty-something man in a bagg y rugby top popped up from behind the
bar, hardly giving any attention to Nora as he gathered the last remaining
used glasses and put them in the dishwasher. He switched it on then pulled

down his coat from a hook, put it on and took out some car keys.
‘Bye, Nora. I’ve done the chairs and wiped all the tables. Dishwasher’s on.’
‘Ah, thanks.’
‘ Till ursday.’

‘Yes,’ Nora said, feeling like a spy about to have her cover blown. ‘See you.’
A moment aer the man le, she heard footsteps rising up from
somewhere below, heading across the tiles she had just walked down,
coming from the back of the pub. And then he was there.

He looked different.
e beard had gone, and there were more wrinkles around his eyes, dark
circles. He had a nearly finished pint of dark beer in his hand. He still looked
a bit like a T V vet, just a few more series down the line.

‘Dan,’ she said, as if he was somet hing that needed identifying. Like a
rabbit by the road. ‘I just want to say I am so proud of you. So proud of us.’