Librarians by Peter Lingard, a glass of flat beer

 I fancied Philomena until I found out she was a librarian. I told my mate, Jasper about her and her job and he said I was stupid. ‘Ya read books, dontcha?’

‘Well, yeah, but …’

‘But nothing. Get in there.’

I rummaged through my wallet and found an old library card. Was it still valid? Is the issue date in the code at the bottom? It bears an instruction to report its loss to the library. That could be an excuse to go to the place. Rather than get a book?  I didn’t see an expiry date. If I get a couple of books, won’t Philomena see in her computer that I haven’t taken one out in years? Should I apply for a new card? No, she’d go into her computer and come up with the same info on me. It has to be the reported loss routine. It was weak, but it’d get me in the door.

 Why hadn’t I rummaged through my wallet before? What else is in there? A telephone number without a name – how old is that! A bakery’s loyalty card. Two hundred-dollar notes. I must do this more often.

               

‘Excuse me, I want to report a lost library card.’

‘Well, you’ve come to the right place.’ The brunette’s eyes narrowed. ‘Wagner, isn’t it?’

‘Er, yes. Do we know each other?’

‘Not exactly know, but I gave you my number a couple of years ago and you never called.’

I took out my wallet and extracted the paper with the number. ‘Would this be it?’

The librarian smiled. ‘Yes. How come you kept the number, if you didn’t want to call?’

I shrugged. ‘To be honest, the paper got stuck behind a baker’s loyalty card and I’m not even sure what I was doing with that.’

‘Really. So, you kept your bakery card but lost your library card? Not sure we can trust you with a replacement of such an important document.’

‘Perhaps if I take you out to dinner, I might be able to convince you of my ability to look after things. I did keep your number safe for a couple of years.’

‘Hah! Have a big presentation in mind, do you?’

‘No, just a pleasant evening. Are we on?’

‘How about Friday?’

‘Friday’s good.  By the way, does Philomena work here?’

‘How would you know about Philomena? Yes, she’s a friend of mine. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? You came hoping you’d meet her and you got me, someone who recognises you. Put a spanner in the works, did I?’

‘No, not at all. I, er …

‘Never mind, Wagner. Your card will be ready in a few minutes, if you’d care to wait.’

I look at my watch. ‘I can’t, I’m afraid. Can I pick it up tomorrow?’

‘Of course. Philomena will be on the desk then. I’ll tell you finally showed up to ask me out.

About the author

  Peter Lingard, born a Brit, served in the Royal Marines, was an accountant, a barman and a farm worker. He once lived in the US where he owned a freight forwarding business. An Aussie now because the sun frequently shines and the natives communicate in English. 

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