An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [41]
Cyril asks his usual questions about the flat to make sure the sink hasn’t clogged up again, that the leak from the pipe in the ceiling is under control and that the pesticide worked against the carpenters and earwigs. Mercedes wants to know if I’m still willing to consider nurse Nancy as a potential date. “You should see her new hair style. She had it straightened and gold streaks added. If I looked that gorgeous I wouldn’t have to be with the likes of Cyril. Don’t mind me. Cyril knows I’m only joking with him.”
“She’s wrong there, Carl. The women are always after me. I had to marry Mercedes to stop them chasing me.”
“Nancy mentioned something about being invited to a wedding this summer,” Mercedes says. “Second weekend in August. Are you available? She’s dying about your accent.”
My summer plans don’t include anybody by the name of Nancy. Ray Harding is going to Alberta to work for the summer. He’s offered Norah use of the pond and rowboat in exchange for checking on his house. I promised to lend her a hand with the chores and help with her catalogue. In exchange, she’s teaching me to swim and to row.
“I’m not free in August but I know someone who is. Remember my friend Henry? Works at the library with me? He has a much better accent than mine. It’s Irish. Nancy will love that right away.”
“Anyone but an Italian,” Mercedes says. “She went out with a tile layer a couple of years ago. He finished every floor in her house in ceramic. When she broke it off, he hung on like he was grouted to her.”
“I know the feeling. Henry wouldn’t behave like that though. He’s always accusing me of being too sentimental.”
“Women love sentimental men,” Mercedes says.
“Depends on the woman, I guess. I’m sure Nancy will find him attractive if she gets to know him. He can be coarse on the outside but he’s a marshmallow underneath.”
“Enough about Henry. What about this one Norah? Who’s her family?”
“Her father’s dead, but I know plenty about him. There’s a family friend, Walter. I haven’t actually spoken to him. He doesn’t talk much to anyone, apparently. There’s Ray, her neighbour. I sort of know him. We don’t get along. Norah and I have only known each other a short while. I haven’t met her friends yet. She hasn’t met you either.”
“Invite her over any time,” Mercedes says.
“I’d rather wait till I find my own place. I love the flat, I mean the apartment, but I might need something larger soon, like a home of my own.”
Mercedes and Cyril know when I come in, go out, flush the toilet, do laundry, shower, go to bed and wake up. Likewise, I know if they’re arguing or in amorous agreement, cooking or cleaning, watching the news or a movie. Sometimes, I wear earplugs. I forgot to take them out once when I went to the office. It’s tempting to leave them in. Libraries are much quieter than most places but noise becomes more conspicuous – like Cyril’s snoring when there are no competing sounds.
“What do you need to go moving for? I’ve been living a quarter of the century with the wife and the daughter. It’s good to have another man around.”
“By and by, Carl will be wanting a place of his own and a woman of his own,” Mercedes adds. “You know what they say: A woman is to the hearth what blood is to the heart.”
“Or maybe it’s a woman is to the heart what water is to a live wire.”
“What does that mean, Cyril? You’ll have him confused with that talk.”
“You don’t need to be an electrician to understand my meaning. You only need to be a man, right, Carl?”
“For now, I’m not thinking about a woman for the hearth or the heart. I simply want to enjoy my first summer on the island.”
Cyril piles more food on my plate. “You’ll be blowed up like a harbour tomcod,” he says to me. I hold out my glass for a refill of the wine. Blowed up and pickled. Must be all the salt beef in the jigg’s dinner.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
a comfortable silence
THE KING E. LIBRARY GOES into hibernation for July and August. Edith and Henry