Every Word by Ellie Marney

Author:Ellie Marney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV000000, book
ISBN: 9781743436233
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2014-05-22T16:00:00+00:00

It could work. I look about the same age and build as Natalie, the girl from the photo in the dead man’s wallet. She has darker hair than mine, fuller lips, olive skin.

I just hope the real Natalie has never visited her uncle, because if someone knows her from a previous visit, I’ll be stuffed. If someone asks to see the name on my passport, I’ll be stuffed. Basically if I’m asked to verify my identity, I’ll be stuffed.

This is dumb, I realise. But it’s too late, I’m committed now. A trickle of sweat rolls down my back as the man frowns.

‘Well, this is the main gate for the Library, but if your uncle was in Rare Books then he would have been in the New Library building. Why don’t I make a phone call and check?’

‘Thank you, that would be great.’

The man moves away to use his phone. I scuff the cobblestones in the courtyard with my boots. Wonder if Mycroft appreciates the stupid things I do on his account. I don’t have time to dwell on it, because the man comes back with a generous smile.

‘Right, sorry. I was just checking in with the main office. Your uncle was in Special Collections in the other building. Why don’t we walk through from here?’

He leads me through a flagged archway tunnel, and we emerge near another impressive building. There are so many I’m losing track.

‘This place is amazing,’ I say. At least that’s not a lie.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ The man looks about fondly. ‘I feel very privileged to be working here. And I love books, so working in a library is a bit like a dream.’

I decide I like this man, so I feel extra guilty for fibbing. But it’s working. He takes me past a large building and up some weathered stone steps into an admin area. The walls are cheesecake-thick, white-washed. The internal staircase is dark wood and has a strong scent, some sort of lemony wood polish.

‘Just up here.’ The man extends a hand towards the stairs. ‘The lift is rather old and slow. Hope you don’t mind the walk.’

‘No, that’s fine.’

We climb up two short flights of stairs and arrive at a tiny, carpeted hallway. A woman is standing in the doorway of a room on the left, waiting for us.

‘Thank you, Malcolm, much appreciated.’ She nods at the tour guide – who gives me a smile and heads back the way we’ve come – and shakes my hand in a firm dry grip. ‘Hello. Natalie, is it? Yes, your uncle spoke of you many times. I’m Collette Nichols. I’m the Head of Rare Books here.’

Collette Nichols looks to be in her early sixties. She’s small but straight-backed, and working the Madame Librarian look very hard in a pearl-buttoned blouse and tweed trousers with court shoes. Her greying-blonde hair escapes in thin strands from a French roll. Black-framed reading glasses dangle from a gold chain at her chest.

She cocks her head at me. ‘Yes, you do resemble Daniel.

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