5 Books For Eveline

12

12

The words, that Briar had spoken, haunted Purdy. She didn't consider herself a 'bitch'. Wanting to be alone didn't make her a 'bitch', it made her someone who wanted to spend her days alone. Nothing more. For certain, she had shown a little aggression against people who pushed her to talk to them, but a 'bitch'? No. No, she couldn't be.

With the Doctor Chesterton's miracle injection working wonders with her hip, she decided to visit the library again, to begin work on researching the new locations that could hold the third volume of 'For Eveline'. Upon reaching the doors, however, she stopped. She hadn't even read the second book, only flipping through the pages looking for the places that the author mentioned. Taking a passing interest in the story itself.

She had turned the treasure hunt, the books offered, as the most important aspect. Making it a puzzle to solve, instead of a story to read and relish. Her hand fell to her handbag, where both volumes sat, beside her notebook and her other essentials. She couldn't understand why she had turned from reading the first book because it had a compelling story, to treating it as an assignment from some university course.

Hesitating, she looked away from the Victorian façade of the grandiose library and saw Briar on the other side of the cobbled street. The woman glanced Purdy's way before making the barest of shrugs and continuing. Purdy found that a blessing. She didn't want to continue the argument, nor talk to the woman at all. Not even to compare notes about the books.

After a little more hesitation, she turned and headed back to the house. Mid-afternoon, now, she decided to settle down for the rest of the day, changing into silk pyjamas, thick socks and Japanese-style, kimono-type robe. A steaming mug of tea, a plate of biscuits and her leg resting upon cushions, she settled down upon the sofa and opened the second book.

The girls, Eveline and Raya, had started school and spent more and more time together. The second book painted a picture of carefree childhood, where exploring the world around them had become as important as anything. More important, in fact. They would wander away, disappearing for hours on end together and Purdy wondered when the books were set.

For certain, she couldn't imagine such lenient parents in current times, where every child seemed attached by invisible leashes to their mother or father, bereft of freedom to see the world through a child's eyes without a mum or dad fussing over their safety. Not having children, herself, Purdy could understand both sides of that.

The need to run free and caring little of the consequences, having the ability to learn and grow, to play and have fun. Yet, also, the needs of parents to ensure their children remained safe and secure, uninjured, untouched by the darker sides of life. Purdy felt both glad and a little sad that the accident had taken away any chance of having a family of her own. It had taken much from her, but having a child, in her condition, would have torn what little mental security she had left. Or revitalised it. She couldn't imagine.

Before she knew it, the light had disappeared, the Sun falling below the horizon, bringing the nighttime along with it. The mug of tea sat, cold, upon the table still. The biscuits uneaten. The book had absorbed her once again, taking her on a journey of nostalgia that she could not identify with. She had no childhood memories to compare with those of Eveline and Raya. No common ground to hinge any empathy towards their adventures. Yet, still the book had taken her away, carrying her in a comforting embrace.

Laying the book aside, she rubbed her eyes with finger and thumb, blinking in half-light. Her stomach growled and she realised she hadn't eaten a thing during the day. That was not the only sensation she felt, either. The painkilling injection had worn off and she had not realised it while engrossed in the second book.