“Good morning. I have an appointment?”

The middle-aged woman behind the counter looked down at an actual paper diary before replying.

“Sam Hardy, by any chance?”

“That’s the one”

“You timed that well. Lou’s just on a coffee run. Want one?”

“Oh… do you do tea?”

“Coffee shop next door, and yes”

“Then just a tea please”

“Done. Louisa!”

She passed my order to another woman of a certain age, then gestured at a spare chair beside her own, and raised the little access flap. I set my rather heavy bag down on the floor, and myself into the rather comfortable seat. She was straight into things.

“Right. I’m Hilary, Hils, Farrow and sort of manager. Welcome to our bijou but perfectly formed little place. I’d do the induction thingy in the office, but we aren’t big on staff here, so while Lou’s doing the refuelling run we’ll be covering here. We’re women, we multitask! Er, well, Louisa and I. Sorry. Habits”

She ran me through my qualifications and experience (zero) and where I was staying, then grinned happily.

“That’ll do. Now…”

She put on a silly Birmingham accent as she reworked an old comedy skit, “Oi am considerably older than Yow, so I can remember the days of paper tickets and ticket holders. You will be pleased to know that we are now all digital, but we still retain some paper records. There is a reason for that, which I will come onto.

“Fiction is split between two floors, and non-fiction lives upstairs. We have---here---CCTV for upstairs, which I will talk you through later. It records, and we use a local security company who are VERY up to date, so much so that they are looking at offering facial recognition for some of our occasional problematic visitors. Reference section is down here, along with the internet terminals. We have an arrangement with a couple of local schools and the sixth form college for these”

She pulled out a credit card or something similar, and smiled.

“Our security co set these up for us as well. Local schools have agreed a policy on coursework to help prevent plagiarism”

Her smile was a delight.

“And their methods mean we can get the little treasures, or whatever, to pick up real books and bloody well read them!”

She ran through the system, in which rather than a cut and paste internet cheat, each pupil had to show that they had read, inwardly digested and rephrased their search results.

“So that card is issued to each little darling. They bring us the book, we photocopy the relevant page, and they then have to paraphrase that in their work, with the original there for comparison. Each Daddy’s Delight or Mummy’s Young Man gets so many copies a week, we get paid by the school, and here’s your tea!”

I was overwhelmed by her energy, as well as by the extra little job. I sipped my brew as Louisa rested against the counter and Hils made the introductions. Lou was straight to her own points.

“Over the road is a pub from a chain I am sure you know well. Bus shelter there gets a bit full before they open for breakfast, though a lot of those are liquid. They do NOT wait in here. On the other hand, especially this time of year, we do have some homeless. Sally Anne’s on the other corner, along with the Job Centre, and some of both come in here for a sit, use the terminals to job hunt, and so on. As long as they are sober and not too smelly, they’re fine. Then there’s…”

She pointed to a desk by the window, where a plump figure was tapping way at a laptop.

“Free wifi here, and… she… comes in each day to work. Member of the library, so no issues, really”

I had to ask.

“You kept hesitating, Louisa. Why’s that?”

“They’re, well, one of those transgenders. Don’t know what they do. No problems, but just a bit, well, odd. Keep to themselves”

She dumped her paper cup into the appropriate bin.

“Off to rerack, Hils. You going to break Sam in gently, before the school rush?”

Hilary snorted.

“Absolutely! Let’s hope he can manage more than a day, or we’ll need to call the student-catcher again”

Mad, both of them. Hils efficiently talked me through the terminal, setting up my account and explaining the CCTV controls. The bus stop over the road was now empty, but several men and a few women were sitting at tables outside the pub, each with one or more glasses and surrounded by a cloud of smoke.

“Right, Sam. That’s as much as I assume you can take in for now; the rest will come. I’ll talk you through late returns tomorrow. See the trolley over there?”

She indicated a well-laden book carrier.

“First job of the day is simply to shelve that lot. All booked back in, all from this floor; just need putting back out. Not using you as a skivvy, love, but it’s one of those things we all have to do. Life would be easier if we locked the books in and the punters out!”

I could see she was joking, so after dumping my own cup I started the amble round the shelves just as the first of a steady flow of schoolchildren came in, many of them with a ‘where-do-I-find' query for Hils.

My tour of the shelves took me past the woman Lou had pointed out, and I decided on ‘woman’ based on the fact that she was in a skirt. She was typing slowly, closing her eyes every now and again, and as I watched her, she looked up and smiled.

“Hi. You new here?”

I nodded.

“On a work placement, for my degree”

“Oh. Where are you studying?”

“Loughborough; library studies, to no surprise from you, I am sure!”

“Great. I know that area. I’m Mary”

She held out a hand, and we shook.

“Sam. What do you do, Mary?”

“Me? I write. My place is just up the road, and it’s nicer to sit here than at a desk all day. Get more ideas this way”

“What do you write?”

“Ah, mostly fiction, but I have a couple of occasional columns for some print and online periodicals. I would call them mags, but that always meant paper to me”

“Would I know the books?”

Her smile was a little sad, and she shook her head.

“Niche stuff, Sam. Some SF, but mostly… mostly stuff related to my own position in the world, which I am sure you have guessed. Look up ‘Transition of Venus’ for an example. Mary Sutcliffe. Let me know if you find it. Here, though… this will sound pretentious. What I do here is people watch, including those over by the pub. I always start with a character, then think of a story. Bit like myself, really, arse about face. Anyway, brace yourself, for the College lot will be in soon, and that tends to pull in some of them out there by the pub”

She must have spotted my puzzled look, for she grimaced.

“Teenaged girls. Short skirts. Drunk men. Say no more?”

I just nodded, and she smiled again.

“Off you go, Sam, and rack those books. If you can, let Hilary know I have a couple of order requests she could check for me. Meanwhile, once the noise level starts rising…”

She showed me a set of noise-cancelling headphones.

“And don’t tell the others that I am braindead this morning and am simply playing solitaire!”

The place got steadily busier, and I was kept trotting around as my trolley refilled. The book returns might have been automated, but the things still needed to be replaced manually. I was astonished when Hilary started closing the place for the evening.

“Well done for today, Sam. Hardly noticed you were there, which is actually a compliment—you were working steadily. We’ll see you in the morning, so save any questions for the lull”

I simply walked home, as the lock-up procedure was another ‘in a few days’ bit of training. I grabbed some basic stuff from Lidl, and after a meal and a shower I changed into my favourite nighty for a couple of hours of catch-up telly on my own laptop, until my yawning threatened to dislocate my jaw.

Two weeks of increasingly more involved training followed, and as I came to know Louisa better, the apparent transphobia of our first meeting started to reveal itself to be more simple confusion, puzzlement, than dislike. Mary was someone outside her prior experience, and she was at a loss in how best to react. That was brought into sharp relief when I had my first pub-based lecher.

Hilary had alerted me to something on the CCTV, and I could see why. There were three girls of around fifteen, in the usual school uniform of blazer and tartan skirt, the latter rolled up as short as the girls dared, and as they bent down to look at some book or other, a scruffy man was peering around a set of shelves, his sightline obvious even on the screen.

“Can you zoom, Hils?”

“Yup. Hang on… where to?”

“His hip pocket”

“The one his hand’s…Oh, the dirty sod!”

I was already heading for the stairs, and, full of stupid bravado, went straight to the self-declared wanker.

“You need to put that down and leave now”

He looked me up and down, before his grin showed a mix of stained and missing teeth.

“I think you ought to just fuck off and mind your own business, Tinkerbell”

I heard the lift doors slide open, and a familiar voice spoke from behind me.

“No, Larry Beaney, I think that it’s you that needs to fuck off. Now would be good”

I could see him clearly building up to spit, and Mary simply shrugged.

“You really want to give the plod some clear DNA for court? Along with the camera footage? Now would be good. Exit’s downstairs. Don’t use the lift”

He swallowed, and started to move towards the staircase.

“Fucking freak!”

“Careful, Larry. Getting close to a section 5 warning”

“You can’t do that, fucking nonce”

“Nope, but my mobile is recording you. Now would be good. Last warning”

With a snarl, ‘Larry’ trotted down the staircase, Mary prodding me to follow him.

“Keep an eye on, and make sure he leaves. I’ll brief Hilary in a few”

The bastard was straight across the road and into the pub, naturally, and as I turned away from the door, Hilary was holding both hands out to me as a comfort.

“Well done, Sam. I saw Mary on the screen; is she okay?”

“She was the one who sorted it, Hils. Don’t know where she’s gone”

Hils slumped slightly after squeezing both of my hands.

“She went into the ladies’. Lou’s on a coffee run… hang on”

She hit a contact number on her mobile.

“Lou? Another white Americano, please. Yes. Had an incident. All sorted now, but we’ll need you to cover the desk for a few. Yup. See you in a couple”

She turned back to me, a sad smile now in place.

“Mary has a lot of history around here, Sam. Some of it she can put to one side, but the rest can still… Hi, love. Thanks, as always. What was the story?”

Mary shrugged, eyes now clearly red-rimmed, to my horror.

“Larry thought he’d have a crafty hand shandy while perving over the girls. I sent them downstairs before I stepped in. He was getting ready to lump young Sam here, so I got him to focus on me”

I held up a hand.

“What was all that 'section 5’ stuff?”

Mary’s answering smile was so bleak I wanted to hug her.

“Previous life stuff, Sam. Not for now, please. Hils, I have him on voice recorder, and this is one you really need to get served with an exclusion order. Please speak to the council, and make sure the CCTV discs are kept. And you have a query, I think”

She indicated a couple of boys of around thirteen heading for the counter.

“Please, Mister, can you help us? It’s for a reading assignment”

I smiled, suddenly feeling a lot better.

“What do you need?”

The obvious spokesboy answered for both.

“We need to find a book, Mr Baxter said it’s scifi, about the world after a big disaster, and the hero is a geologist. Carries a hammer”

Mary put a hand to my shoulder.

“First, please tell your teacher, nicely, that it’s SF, not skiffy, and the book you want is—Hils?”

“Yes?”

“Have you got ‘Earth Abides’ in stock? By George R Stewart”

“Um… yup”

The spokesboy turned to Mary.

“Is it exciting, Miss?”

“Not really, but it does draw you in. It’s about how the world might change if it were just left to nature. No people, or not many”

“Are there any aliens or monsters?”

“No, sorry. There are one or two people who could be called monsters from the way they behave, but that’s all”

Hilary interrupted.

“Lou, it’s in with the Sci Fi. Got the title and author?”

“Indeed!”

“Then, lads, you go with this lady, and she’ll find the book for you”

The three were off, and Hils looked directly at Mary.

“You can’t keep doing this sort of thing, love. You will end up hurt”

Mary shrugged, still red around her eyes.

“Old habits, Hils. Sam was about to get hurt, as well. Larry’s a nasty piece of work”

“Yes, well. Got a coffee there for you. Pick it up, go back to your table and put those headphones on. Got me?”

Mary nodded, heading away as she had been so firmly instructed, and Hils waved at the spare seat.

“Take some weight off, Sam. Some background, I think”

We picked up our drinks, and she took a long sip, forehead wrinkled, before turning back to me.

“Mary has a long history around here. Lou can’t quite get her head round it, but she’s trying. What I am telling you is public knowledge, so no confidence breach, and Mary would just tell you the same things if you were to ask her. She used to be in the police, on the beat around here”

“I had guessed that, Hils”

“Well, you’ve probably guessed the rest, especially after what Lou called her. She was a sergeant in the Surrey force. Worked through to her pension was completely assured, retired, then had her leaving do over the road. Cheaper drinks if you’re the one putting the money behind the bar, I suppose. Anyway, simple story: Matt Sutcliffe retired, Mary Sutcliffe had his retirement do. Talking point for ages, it was, and I asked her about it, years ago. Just the once. Sam?”

“Yes?”

“You know when you start a conversation with someone, and you immediately feel it’s somewhere they don’t want to go, but they still go there, regardless?”

“Sort of”

“Well, it was like that. I wondered afterwards if it was just because it was me doing the asking, someone who’d known them for so long. She doesn’t really volunteer it that much”

“Not surprising, is it?”

“Nope. Not at all. Anyway, she said it all crystallised one New Year’s Eve shift. Saw people getting all lovey-dovey, or at least the drink-fuelled version, and decided that she’d finally do the thing: make a resolution and keep it. Sorted her retirement, booked the party, turned up in skirt and flat boots. Told me she can’t walk in heels. Anyway, she can’t put the reflexes away, as you saw, and then she has the shakes, and the tears, once the reality catches up with her. Anyway. That’s all I am going to say. She’ll tell you more if she decides to. You happy writing a witness statement for the police?”

“Of course”

“Good. Don’t get hurt; next time stand a little further away from the wankers”

“He was building up to spit on us!”

Hilary laughed out loud, almost spilling her drink.

“Could have been a lot worse, given what he was doing with his right hand!”

Once again, the day ended as the place emptied, following a quick visit and taking of statements by a couple of police officers. Mary packed away her laptop and quietly left, the early darkness wrapping itself around her as she headed home.

The library would be closed the next day, so I walked past my flat to the next pub, a bit more expensive and therefore much less busy than the other. A couple of beers paced themselves with a full-on carvery meal, ending up on sticky toffee pudding and custard before making my own way home.

In, shower, choose an old favourite dress and once more slump in front of my laptop.

Sleep was much harder to find that night, as all I could think about was the courage Mary must have shown to that sort of retirement do in such a venue. I didn’t dream about it, as I hardly slept, but that courage was something my dreams needed.

As the Christmas break approached, I was being handed more and more responsibility, including setting the alarms before we locked up, and I began to see myself as a professional rather than simply a shelf stacker. Hils and Lou were a fun double act, and each did her best to draw me into their banter, more and more as an equal participant rather than a foil or stooge. In my free time, I found a new hobby, though.

Mary had given me one title, but for a number of reasons I didn’t want to be seen digging it out at work, even if it were the sort of thing the Council would ever approve of. I found it online after a quick search, and it was available for e-reader, along with a surprising number of other books. Click the link, and…

It wasn’t really to my taste, as I have never been a fan of SF, Sci Fi, skiffy, whatever. I shelved it for dipping into later, and scrolled through the other titles, in each case reading the ’free sample’ offered, and the third one caught my attention in a huge way.

It had become very clear to me that her writing was almost always about transgender people, so this one was no exception. The protagonist was a trans woman (to no surprise on my part) and the story started during their time at University. Lots of angst, lots of hatred, but there was something bubbling underneath that had hooked me, and it took me a few minutes to work out what it was.

The answer was a simple one: it was my own story, or at least as close as made no real difference. I bought the thing, pulled off my clothing, slipped on my nighty and crawled into bed with my little electronic device, waking up at eight the next morning with only vague memories of how far I had made it through the book. I have no idea how I made it to the library on time. Coffee was my saviour throughout the day, so I was deeply grateful that the schools were now closed for the upcoming holiday. Sort the books, deal with late returns, fill in order paperwork, select the older books to be offered on cheap sale to the public, and watch Mary tap away at her keyboard. I had learnt how to tell when she was writing, and when playing a game, as the latter was all mouse action.

I took the plunge a few days before Christmas closing time.

“Hi, Mary. Got a couple of minutes?”

“For you, Sam? Certainly. Still remembering that incident with Larry?”

“Well, yes”

“As you were told at the time, don’t get so close, and have your hands up. There are ways of doing that without it looking like a threat to them”

“Yes; I read up on that. That’s not what… I looked at your book, the Venus one”

“And? What did you think?”

“I have to apologise here. Not really my thing, Sci Fi”

“SF”

“Whatever. Never been into it, me”

“Well, I had to try. Every little bit helps, money wise”

“Oh, I bought it, just didn’t finish it. It was another one that hooked me”

She settled her elbows onto the table, smiling.

“Words to warm an author’s heart, my dear! Which one?”

“It was called ‘Embryonic Journey’. Some very familiar stuff in there.

She stared at ne for a few moments before asking, “In which ways?”

I gathered my thoughts, trying to decide how much I dared reveal.

“The college stuff. The bullying”

“That caught your eye?”

I spread my hands.

“Mary, I did library studies, a course almost entirely filled with female students, at a university that mixes serious engineering and technology with top-level sports stuff. Jocks coming out of your ears, there. How do you think they took me?”

Her smile was a sad one once more.

“Hils will have told you my background by now. Don’t worry; she asked me first. Lou still wobbles, but I do believe Hilary understands. I was a beat sergeant in an area that could be a bit rough. Job where even the women are men’s men, if you take my point the way I meant it. Those college scenes, they were basically me, my life. That’s how I write, Sam: I take my memories, people I know, things I see, and I sort of stir them together. And I read. How I read. I get ideas from that, and you can put THAT face away!”

“What face?”

“The ‘so she steals from other people’ one. What I do is see how other people look at things, and if it works, I sometimes write a character who thinks the same way. Surprising sources, sometimes. That title, for example, is from Jefferson airplane”

“Who?”

“Grace Slick? Kantner? Balin? Kaukonen? White Rabbit?”

“I’ve heard of that one. Vietnam War?”

“Grace was the singer. Youth of today, no taste… Anyway, I took that book title from them. No real connection with the story, but the title worked so well. There’s a term used by… There is a term used by people about me, which is ‘egg cracking’, where we find a person like us. They might not know they are until shown, or, in most cases, they simply can’t take things forward”

“For what reasons?”

“All sorts. Personal situation, family pressures, or simply fear. You’re looking at me… No, not like that, Sam”

She sat up straight.

“By ‘cracking’, we don’t mean forcing, blackmailing, nothing like that. Just letting them see where an opportunity might lie, and, well, offering support if they want it. No coercion, none of that sort of rubbish. I…No. Not today, Sutcliffe. Sam?”

“Yes?”

“If you get on with ‘Embryonic’, try ‘Bright Lights Tonight’. Yes, it’s another title from music I like, but I am going to avoid making you have to admit any further lapses of taste. Christmas plans? Going home?”

I shook my head.

“No, not me. Not really… Mum will be at my grandparents, her parents. I don’t get on with them, and my brother, well, no love lost there. I’ll get something in to cook, and just slob the day. That’s my usual system”

She pulled out a notepad and a pen.

“Always carry one of these around, us writers. Here’s my number. If you get bored, give me a bell. And I do believe Hils has trade for you”

I tucked the paper away automatically, courtesy literally having been hammered into me, and headed for the counter, where Hils was trying to explain how the electronic return system worked to someone rather older than everyone else in the place, possibly even older than our combined ages.

“But where do I get my tickets?”

I took over, and steered the lady over towards the scanner.

“Have you got that plastic card we gave you?”

“This one?”

“No; that’s your bus pass. Could you open your purse—there, that one. We need that. Now, hold it under the little light—got it. First book… Just need it open. No, just the cover. Put that bit down, with the bar code—that thing there, yes. Put it on here, and done. Pop the book into that slot. Next one, please, and---there you are. Done!”

She smiled, turning to go with a “Thank you, Miss!”, and I stood for a few seconds, Mary’s comments about cracking eggs repeating over and over again in my head. Gather calm and balance, Sam. Find stability before you turn back round.

Hils was grinning as I came back.

“That was Marge, Sam. Marge knows EXACTLY how to work the returns system, but she likes to play politics”

“How on Earth is that politics?”

Lou chimed in.

“She used to be a Labour activist, Sam, decades ago. She sees self-service tills and stuff as job cutting for the sake of profits, Hence her little game. Same every time”

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

“What, and spoil the fun, Miss Hardy?”

Shit.

“Sod the pair of you!”

My anger was gone well before Christmas Day, but Marge’s words lived in in my mind. If she could see me, even if her elderly confusion was as fake as Lou had suggested, who else could? I was starting to see that Mary’s senses were even sharper. There was something she had written, or recycled, in one of her books that was really triggering me: every day you live on unchanged is two days lost to being yourself.

Eggs. ‘Miss’. Shit.

I ended up calling her on Christmas morning. She sounded delighted.

“Morning, Sam! Happy Christmas to you too! What are your plans?”

“Got one of those roasts for two tinned things, plus some part-cooked vegetables for finishing off in the oven”

“I have a large chicken”

“No turkey?”

“Ah, never liked the taste. I’d have a duck or a goose if I could find one, but never mind. Chicken’s fine for me. And I don’t spend the next month reheating it. Plans for the day?”

“None. Cook this later, eat. Watch rubbish on TV and sleep”

There were a few seconds of silence.

“Want to share a chicken?”

“Could do. Want some part-cooked veg?”

“Why not? Where are you living?”

I gave her the address, and she laughed.

“I’m just opposite that pub on the corner from you. Time? Say about noon, if I set the main veg and bird cooking”

“Part-cooked stuff says thirty-five to forty minutes”

“Perfect. See you in a bit then. Bring alcohol, if you have any. If you haven’t, I have. And Sam?”

“Yes?”

“There’s no dress code here”

She hung up, and I spent several minutes staring at my wardrobe, trying to decide if I really could risk it, before shutting the door on it all. Jeans. Polo short. Fleece jacket. Write a card from the charity supporting box I had bought on reflex.

Not today, Sam, girl.

Mary answered her door almost immediately, which was not surprising as she had insisted I use the back door, which led straight into her kitchen. I handed her the card, a wonderful aroma of roasting chicken, potatoes, all sorts, settling into my nose and stirring my saliva glands. A posh way of saying mouth-watering, but just as true.

“What booze do we have?”

I opened my rucksack, pulling out the packs of veg.

“Got two dry white, two obese reds”

Mary laughed happily.

“I am so stealing that phrase! Pass me that notebook, Sam”

She wrote a quick note, then turned back to me.

“Was I right, then? Eggs?”

‘Two lost days’. Deep breath, and nod.

“Right. Dress code, right now, that’s just convention. Also convention is to ask if you have another name”

I shook my head.

“Nope. Short form, at least. Full length, well… Mandy works as well as Sam”

“Then let’s get one of the reds open to breathe, and one of the whites into the fridge. The other white can go into two of the glasses that are in the cupboard behind your head”

I poured, we toasted Christmas, and then I was sent to lay the necessary items on her dining table, as the envy rose in me. Life, as I could be living it. Her place wasn’t exactly tidy; I didn’t get an impression of mess, however, but a simple sense of comfortable nestling. Books weren’t all shelved, but on side tables, ready to pick up again.

I returned to the kitchen, and we spoke about nothing at all, certainly not me, and I understood what she was doing. We both knew who I was, so why dwell on it? There were other things to discuss, including the Larry problem, and once the dinner was ready, she carved as I plated up, and we settled down at the table for what promised to be a lovely meal.

“Hang on, Sam! Nearly forgot… Right. We spoke about this, and you know the next track”

She pressed a button on her sound system and a jangly, complex guitar instrumental started to play, quite s short one, before a very familiar song started, and as Mary began to sing along, I wondered how much wine she had already consumed,

“One pill makes tits larger, and one pill makes cocks small…”

She burst into laughter before killing the track.

“Sorry; a joke I can never resist. If you want, I will start the album at the beginning. Unless you prefer silence?”

“Oh, play the music. Just don’t sing any more of your own words, please!”

Another laugh, which pulled my own from me, and we settled down to our dinner as my shell shivered into fragments that floated away on the wine.