My Candlelight Novel Read Online Free PDF

storeys high had rainforest plants growing in it. A set of carpeted metal steps led to the upper floor. They were long, with gaps between the treads, the sort of stairs I knew I had to protect Hetty from falling down.
    I made my way up those alarming stairs to the literature section, plopped Hetty onto the floor and started to browse. I soon had my arms filled with books – I was lost in a happiness of books – but when I thought to look at Hetty again she had disappeared.
    The books fell from my arms, but I scarcely noticed. And the library became a place of danger.
    The rows of shelves were ill-lit tunnels; I ran past them, scanning to left and right along the ranked metal shelving. The heavy door that led to the fire escape banged shut with a hollow, threatening echo. The doors of the lift made a noise like a sword cutting the air. I bumped into a man. His face loomed over my shoulder as I looked back without apology; the eyes bulged in his pale face.
    I was sweating, but my legs and arms were chill. I think I forgot to breathe. My heart thrashed, but I willed my mind to stay clear. It was possible that someone might have found her, or worse, taken her. I would go to the front desk and ask them to keep a lookout for anyone leaving with her. I would demand a search party!
    Then I remembered the airy, dangerous stairs I had come up, and I ran for them.
    They came in view just as Hetty arrived at the top. She had an odd way of crawling – instead of going on her hands and knees she sat, and scooted along on her bottom, and had become incredibly fast.
    I called to her, but she didn’t seem to hear. She sat there, her neck as tender as a mushroom stalk, looking down the long drop as if considering what to do next. She made to move forward, but before I could get to her, a girl came leaping up the stairs two at a time and scooped her into her arms.
    â€˜Is she yours?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said. ‘Thank you. Oh thank you, thank you.’
    â€˜It was nothing,’ said the girl, smiling at Hetty and squeezing her on the foot before walking away with the sort of loose, insouciant stroll that should be set to music. With my heart singing (my baby was safe!) I went back and picked up the books I’d dropped all over the floor. Hetty belatedly decided to burst into tears; her hands probed into my dress for the comfort of a breast, so I sat on the floor between the shelves and fed her. Then I took my books down to the front desk.
    â€˜Do you have a card?’ asked the librarian.
    I took my card from the city library out of my purse, knowing as I did so that it wouldn’t be sufficient.
    The girl at the desk had a pretty face and short brown hair so straight and beautifully cut that a poet could have written several sonnets to it. But when she saw the card I presented she looked as though she’d sucked a lemon. I thought it a waste that someone so pretty should feel so sour. She looked at my inferior library card as though she wanted to incinerate it with her breath.
    â€˜It is forbidden to use this library without proper authorisation.’
    I so wanted those books. There was one about the life of John Keats the poet, very promisingly thick, and so pristine I could tell that no one ever bothered to take it out.
    â€˜I’ll be a student here very soon,’ I said, but she shook her head and dismissed me.
    I thought that I should dump the books somewhere and slink away with my tail between my legs, but the girl who’d rescued Hetty, who’d been standing in the queue and must have seen it all, said quietly, as I passed her, ‘I’ll get them out for you, if you like.’
    I waited for her outside the library. In a while she came out and placed the books ceremoniously into my arms. ‘It is forbidden,’ she intoned, and we laughed. I noticed that she herself had only borrowed a pile of CDs. ‘You have exactly two weeks,’ she told me. ‘Don’t get