She was there, again,\nlong legs and arms draped around a radiator in the reading room of the city\nlibrary. With her long dark coat she\nlooked like a spider curled up in the corner of the room. I had seen her there a few times, always at\nthe same time of day – late afternoon. \nNow, it was early December. \nOutside, it seemed the Xmas lights were diamonds, hanging and dancing\nbetween the trees. Inside the library it\nwas warm and dry and there was a strong smell of polish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had taken to going to\nthe library most days as I wanted to look at travel guides, because I hoped to\ngo away in January – on my own, for the\nfirst time!<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
\u2018Oh no it\u2019s you again,\u2019\nsaid the spider, uncurling towards me. \u2018You know it\u2019s rude to stare.\u2019 I started\nto apologise, when there was a disgruntled cough and an exaggerated twitch of a\nnewspaper from someone at the end of the large table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Here we go again, it\u2019s Elsie,\u2019 continued the spider. \u2018Better keep your voice down or she will\nstart stamping her feet.\u2019 She uncurled some more. \u2018Come on girl spit it out!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I feel as if I know\nyou.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Feel! Feel! What does that mean? You either know me or you don\u2019t and I assure\nyou, I don\u2019t know you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was increasingly\naware of the heat in the room, blasting out from old radiators, aware too of\nlayers of other smells – damp clothes, dusty books, plimsoles, chalk\u2026.the aroma\nof a school building. I was taken back\nto that time at school in Harlech when I was forced to read in assembly. I had pushed the event to the back of my\nmind. I had not read well and one of the teachers sought to discredit me. She\ndid this in front of all my friends in the 6th form who, in turn, supported me.\nI had tried my best that day. I had even\npractised standing on the kitchen table and reading aloud a useless part of the\nBible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt slightly\nnauseous. The woman draped over the old\ncreaking radiator was that teacher.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You taught English\ndidn\u2019t you, in Harlech?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was a\nsilence. I looked at her, saw the lines\non her face – saw something that resembled grief and faint recognition. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018What is your name?\u2019\nshe whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her face fell and became grey as I told her.\nAbruptly she rose from the chair. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You are annoying\nme!\u2019 She turned and scuttled the length\nof the room, her black coat flapping as she vanished through the double doors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt different\nsomehow. She had humiliated me about 60 years ago, and I still felt hurt\u2026.although\nI realised I did not have to carry that baggage any more. Now, I was lighter. I\nhad the confidence to book a ticket to \u2026\u2026.Rome? \nBarcelona?\u2026\u2026Paris? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In fact I could go\nanywhere, I had read enough about them in library books. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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