WITH ONE MORE day off from work at her disposal, Emma took Olivia with her to queue for their rations. By going earlier, Emma was able to secure sugar and meat for them both for the next few days.
However, while they were out, Emma couldn’t help but notice the way several women stared at her, their attention brimming with scorn.
Olivia was thankfully oblivious, but Emma was intensely aware of every mother who was without their child glaring in their direction. Rather than allow their anger to sink into her, she clasped Olivia’s warm hand in hers and reveled in the knowledge that her daughter was finally home.
Much to Olivia’s chagrin, she would be returning to school starting the following day. At least for the morning. Teachers were still in the country with evacuated students, which left very few remaining in the city to instruct the children. As a result, school was only in session for half the day, with some students taught in the morning and others in the afternoon.
Which meant Olivia would have to walk home from her new school on her own after lessons and would be alone in the afternoons now that Mrs. Pickering had become so involved with the WVS.
The following morning, Emma walked Olivia to school before her work shift and pointed out landmarks to ensure her daughter might easily find her way home afterward. Despite her careful details and Olivia having seemed to be paying attention, a number of fears raced through Emma’s mind as she hurried to work.
Miss Bainbridge welcomed them all with her usual pot of tea and hot chocolate, which Emma now took advantage of in an effort calm her fraying nerves.
“I should like to inform you that the library detectives have taken their leave,” Miss Bainbridge said.
“Did they find out what happened?” Margaret asked, worrying the diamond ring on her finger with the pad of her thumb.
Miss Bainbridge sighed. “They discovered the culprit to be a man who was far too eager to read a new mystery that was coming out and couldn’t stand to wait another week to get his hands on it.”
“Too bad we can’t put that into an advertisement,” Margaret quipped. “So good, you’ll break in to read it.”
Miss Crane rolled her eyes, but Emma laughed and even Miss Bainbridge chuckled.
“Still,” the manageress chided. “We should be mindful to keep an eye on the Bespoke Room and our warehouse to ensure we don’t have any overzealous subscribers trying to sneak in for an early peek.”
With more subscribers to look after these days and many new faces, the request was entirely valid. The lending library had been excessively busy after Christmas with so many people having received subscriptions as gifts.
Even as work hummed with activity, Emma had half her focus on the clock. When noon came and went, her mind churned with worry. Had Olivia returned home safely? There were many corners to take on the way to the school. Had she remembered them all?
As Emma’s concern fluttered around Olivia, her body moved in automatic motions, setting books on shelves almost without thought. At least until she realized the red label book that had been in her basket of return items was no longer there, and she had not been back into the Bespoke Room.
Her heart lurched.
A red label book should never be on the floor under any circumstances.
Emma retraced her steps, desperately seeking the mislaid item. To no avail.
“Are you quite all right, dear?”
Emma looked up to find Mrs. Chatsworth regarding her with concern. Pip slept soundly on his blue pillow in her basket.
Out of the corner of Emma’s eye, she was relieved to see the brilliant red label against the row of green spines. “Just a book out of place.” The classics, of all places. Emma swiped the book quickly from its errant location.
Thank heavens Mr. Beard hadn’t seen it or she’d never hear the end of his tirade.
“A book out of place?” Mrs. Chatsworth’s eyes widened and the feather on her scarlet pillbox hat quivered. “How could something such as a misplaced book possibly happen in the Booklover’s Library?”
Emma tucked the book behind her back and opened her mouth even before she could come up with a reply.
Not that a reply was necessary. Mrs. Chatsworth was already answering the question herself with a dignified tilt to her chin. “I daresay the infraction was likely a subscriber.”
Alarm shot through Emma. Subscribers were to be treated with exceptional care, not decried as leaving the shelves disorganized. “No, I don’t think—”
“I don’t know how someone could do that.” Mrs. Chatsworth tsked. “We all love an organized library where we can find the books we want.”
“I don’t think—”
Mrs. Chatsworth patted Emma’s shoulder in a comforting gesture that left a powdery scent in her wake. “You’re doing a wonderful job, Miss Taylor. Don’t you dare let anyone else tell you otherwise.”
Reassurances made, woman and dog turned away with a book in hand, heading toward the Class A subscriber desk.
At least this time, Emma did know the misshelved book to be entirely her fault.
That could have been disastrous.
For the rest of the day, she forced herself to focus, to ensure no more mistakes could be made. While Emma didn’t have to pay the government the stipend for Olivia’s billeting any longer—a shilling a week more than Emma received for her daughter’s pension—they still needed the money from her job.
Once Emma was finally relieved of her daily shift, she ran out of the chemist shop so quickly, she almost forgot to remove the green overalls from her dress.
Though the winter day was a fine one, with a bit of sun to ease the bite from the frigid January chill, she took the bus to ensure she arrived home quickly. Pent-up energy vibrated through her as her mind flip-flopped at the certainty that Olivia was perfectly fine and catastrophizing over worst-case scenarios.
What if Olivia fell and was bleeding and in need of help?
What if someone forced their way into the tenement house and was trying to break into their flat?
Her blood ran cold and the leg she had been unintentionally jiggling went still.
What if there was a fire? What if Olivia was in a burning building too long, breathing in too much smoke? Like Papa.
If Emma hadn’t been stranded on the bus, she would have run the rest of the way home. Now she was trapped, forced into a brutal wait.
The bus pulled up to Mooregate Street and the breath rushed from Emma’s lungs in relief. The tenement house was still standing. No plumes of black smoke billowed from the aged building, no sirens blared in the distance.
How foolish it was, the way she spoon-fed her fears.
Emma had never been the type to envision every horrible scenario that might happen. Not until she became a mother. Not until she loved someone so completely, wholly, and wonderfully the way she did Olivia.
A child became a mother’s world, filling her days and simultaneously filling her heart. Feeding, clothing, playing, laughing, living, cherishing, loving.
Emma exited the bus, feeling rather sheepish over her concerns, and entered the perfectly safe building. The click of her shoes echoed on the stairwell around her as she climbed to the second floor and unlocked the door.
“Olive,” she sang out, a smile on her lips.
There was no reply.
Despite her self-castigation over her fruitless fears, terror once more curled icy fingers around her heart. Sunlight streamed in through the filmy screens covering the windows, highlighting dust motes as they lazily floated in the quiet, still living area.
There was no discarded bag from school, no toed-off shoes lying hazardously in front of the door, no coat slung over the sofa.
“Olivia, this had better not be a joke.” But Olivia didn’t joke. Not like this. Not when she knew how terrified it would make Emma.
Two years earlier, they’d been at the Market Square when Olivia ran off to look at a shop window displaying a doll she’d fancied. Emma hadn’t known she was gone and raced round the entire square, screaming for Olivia like a madwoman. When they were finally reunited, Emma had been so distraught that Olivia promised to never give her cause for such fear again.
Emma rushed into their shared room now, her pulse coming faster as she found it empty. Calling again and again for her daughter, Emma ran from room to room in the small flat, heart thundering as each space met her with silence. As the horrifying realization dawned.
Olivia was not home.