The days when Miss Casey was out in the van were the days when Lissbeg Library tended to have more visitors. Conor always told himself this was a coincidence, but at the back of his mind he knew it was cause and effect. It seemed to him that half the fun of a library was stumbling on treasures by chance, but Miss Casey didn’t see things that way at all. What he thought of as browsers she called time-wasters. And libraries, she said, weren’t supposed to be fun.
But now, out of the blue, it seemed like things were going to change. Last night, driving home from the meeting in Carrick, Conor had been raging. Partly with Miss Casey, who could have told him stuff and hadn’t, but mainly with the pen pushers, who’d made him feel a fool. Later, when he’d calmed down a bit, he’d seen why Miss Casey had said nothing. Anyway, she’d been really upset and apologized, so fair play to her for that. Then this morning when she came into work she’d taken him into her confidence. And that, when you came to think of it, was pretty amazing. Apparently herself and Sister Michael were hatching plans to confound the pen pushers, and while it was all kind of hush-hush at the moment, she’d promised to keep him in the loop if he kept his mouth shut. As soon as she’d told him the news, she’d set off to pick up the van, but only a minute later, she’d stuck her head back through the door. He shouldn’t make a big thing of it, she said, but it was okay to make the place a bit more welcoming. Conor reckoned that she’d looked a bit awkward when she said that, so he hadn’t asked any questions. But now he was dying to know what would happen next.
Almost as soon as Miss Casey had gone, a group of young mums with babies in strollers arrived and settled into a corner. One girl returned a thriller and took out the sequel, but the rest just sat round a table, chatting and checking their phones. Conor had never seen the harm in that, so long as no one was disturbed. Today there wasn’t another soul in the place but Oliver the dog man. So Conor let the girls get on with it. This time, though, he could turn a blind eye to their chatting without being disloyal to Miss Casey. And that felt great.
Around lunchtime Pat Fitz came in to return another Maeve Binchy, which Conor checked surreptitiously for rashers. A few minutes later a worried-looking woman came in and asked for a book about changing lightbulbs. Conor took her to the DIY section and found her one called Helpful Hints for Homeowners. Then, as he turned to go back to the desk, his eyes widened in alarm. At the far end of the room Oliver had reached the glass-doored bookcase that held the old books that had been there for ages, since the time when the library had been the school hall. It should have been obvious to anyone that they were unlikely to include a recent publication with a black dog on the cover. But Oliver had methodically opened the case and was checking the books one by one.
Conor made it down the room in two strides. “Listen, Oliver, this bookcase isn’t really part of the library. I mean, it is, but you’re not supposed to open it.”
Oliver looked at him through his thick glasses and announced that he followed a system.
“I know, Miss Casey told me. But she wouldn’t want you opening this case.”
Oliver frowned. “Do you know what it is, boy, you can’t go putting up a sign that says ‘Public Library’ if you don’t mean it.”
There was no point in Conor saying that it wasn’t he who had put the sign up. Instead he got between Oliver and the bookcase.
“You’re right, of course, Oliver, but you wouldn’t want me to lose my job. I have to tell you what Miss Casey would say, and I have to close this bookcase now, and I’m really sorry, but that’s how it is.”
Hearing himself speak, he realized that he sounded exactly like his mum trying to placate his dad. In his dad’s case, pleading often made matters worse, so he switched tactics and modelled his approach on Miss Casey’s. Rules were rules, he said, and Oliver wasn’t the only one who ran things following a system. Then, taking the book, he closed the bookcase and strode back to the desk. Oliver left the library looking aggrieved. Sitting at the desk, Conor looked down at the book in his hand. Half an hour later, deaf to the increasingly loud chatter from the corner table, he was still turning its pages.