‘Pfff, potayto, potarto. When I heard about the launch of your book, I thought to myself,Oscar, this isbashert, pre-ordained.
‘I confess though, I didn’t tell Dorotha. I took her diary, which we rescued from the library, and I booked a coach down to London.’
‘I was furious with him, Joyce, and then...’ She smiled a little. ‘I found myself hoping that you’d come. It was the first time in years where I found myself actually feeling that emotion. Hope.’ A tiny bubble of light opened up inside her as a warm smile spread over Joyce’s face.
‘I haven’t slept for the past three nights, wondering whether you’d come or not. Crazy no, given that I waited thirty years.’
‘Oh, Dorotha. You must’ve known I would always come,’ Joyce said, laughing and crying at the same time.
‘Like I say, I hoped. That’s why I had Oscar go to Keswick and get this engraved.’
She handed Joyce a package, tucked down the side of her chair.
‘What is it?’
‘Open it and see.’
The wrapping fell away to reveal a beautiful watch, with an old leather strap that looked as soft as butter.
Joyce turned the watch face over and read out loud.
‘Good friends remain timeless.’
She looked into Joyce’s hopeful gaze and, suddenly, it was 1936, and they were two idealistic young librarians determined to make their mark on the world.
‘I’m never without a watch,’ Dorotha said. ‘I have dozens.’
‘Libertatem per Lectio 181. If I survive until we are liberated please God, the first thing I shall buy myself is a watch,’Joyce said.
‘You’ve read that bit too?’ she asked, stunned.
‘I told you. I read the whole thing. And I have so many questions about your library.’
‘As I do yours.’
‘We have a lot of catching up to do,’ Joyce said.
‘I tell you what, Harry, would you like to pop down to the local pub and leave these two to it?’ Oscar asked. ‘They do a fine pint of ale.’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
The energy in the room shifted, lightened, as the men stood up.
Gabriele picked up the tea tray. ‘I’ll get started on dinner. Joyce, you and Harry will stay? It’s far too late to think about driving back to London.’
‘We’re booked at a local B&B, but yes please. I can’t leave now.’
She turned back to Dorotha. ‘Not when I’ve just found you again.’
She fished around in her bag. ‘Don’t ask me what made me tuck it in my purse this morning, but I’ve something for you too, Dorotha. I’ve been waiting a very long time to read this with you. I vowed I would wait for you and, when I thought you were gone, I decided I couldn’t.’
‘Who’s it from?’ Dorotha asked.
‘Open it and see.’
Dorotha took the envelope, its paper the colour of tea-stained linen, and eased out the letter. She unfolded it and read out loud.
‘Dear Secret Society of Librarians. If I might be so bold, please consider me a member of this marvellous society. Take up arms, sisters. Seize your pen and your paper, summon up all your creative power for the battles ahead. For freedom is won not through wars, but words.’
