Chapter 1

Hugh Wakefield sat in the leather armchair at the end of the long row of shelves.   The chair was adjusted so that the light shone on the book he held in his hands without casting shadows, and he smiled to himself as he found the thumbnail size of newsprint, he had put between to make the place where he had closed the book the last time.   He removed the small slip of paper, adjusted himself in the chair and looked down at the page.  The light above him seemed to flicker momentarily.  That wasn’t unusual.  The electrical system was new and still suffering from the pangs of new technology.   He waited until the flickering subsided.   The light steadied and he was about to look back to the page when he noticed something unusual.  Across from him, on the floor sprawled on a brightly colored cushion was a younger woman. He was somewhat aghast.  Her legs were bare to well above her knee.   She wore no corset nor bustle, and her arms were bare as well.  Her appearance so startled him that he stared.  She was looking at him with a somewhat bewildered look on her face.  He watched her for a moment before he spoke.

“Hello.  Am I disturbing you?  I did not realize you were there when I sat down.”

Leah wiggled and finally worked the bean bag chair into a comfortable position.  She wished secretly that the big leather armchairs that she knew once inhabited these spaces were still around, but the library staff had told her that they had gotten so worn and were so expensive to replace or repair that they library board had decided to replace them with the cheap vinyl bean bag chairs.   She reclined and opened the book.  She was careful as she opened it as it was a first edition she had found on the shelves.   It was hard to believe that such a valuable item was still shelved with all the other books. 

She quickly thumbed the pages and found where she had closed the book at her last visit.  Surprisingly, as she was closing it she found a small sliver of what looked to be old newsprint between the pages.   She had left the triangle of paper in the book to mark her place for her return and now was ready to pick up where she had left off.   As she glanced down, the lights in the library flickered.  It was a bit disconcerting.  She looked up at the light and watched it until it was steady again and then glanced back down to her book.  

As she did so, her eye caught sight of an older man, dressed quite queerly sitting on a large leather covered armchair almost directly across from her. His clothing looked ancient.  She had seen pictures of men dressed in such a way in history books but to see him here seemed somehow anachronistic.  And, she wondered, where did that armchair come from? Had she noticed it earlier, she would certainly have perched there herself instead of on this dreadful plastic oversized pillow.  She saw him stare at her incredulously before he spoke.

“No Sir. I did not see you there either.   May I ask where you found that chair?”

“Why, it was sitting right here.  Wherever did you find that cushion on which you are reclining?”

She looked down at the bean bag chair.  “It is all that there is to sit on.  I have not seen one of those chairs except in photographs.”

She saw the puzzled look cross his face.  “I have never seen them here before!”

Hugh was trying to place her accent and her strange use of the language.  It was his familiar queens English but there was something odd in its usage.  As he was thinking she spoke to him again.

“Do you come to the library often?”

“At least once a week, sometimes more often.”

“What are you reading?”

He looked down at the book in his hand.   “Jane Eyre.”

She smiled broadly and held up the book in her hand.   “So am I!”  She saw him smiles as well.

“I was not aware that the library was in possession of two copies.”

“I didn’t notice another one on the shelf either.  Sort of strange isn’t it.”

“Strange indeed.”  But not the strangest thing he thought to himself.  You are almost as queer in your strange revealing attire and reclining on that ridiculously garish cushion.

As he spoke Leah was looking at his clothing.   Stripped trousers and a long frock coat.  His tie was unlike anything she had seen.   It was elegant, she thought, but not at all in any style with which she was familiar. She watched as he took a pipe from his pocket and carefully tamped a bit of tobacco into the bowl and prepared to strike a match.

“I don’t think they allow smoking in here.”

He looked at her surprise showing on his face.

“No?   I was not aware of that.   They still have the ash cans about?”   He pointed to a metal container sitting near the corner where his chair was situated.”

“I don’t see it.”

He pointed toward it with the stem of his pipe.

Leah looked where he pointed and saw only a cobweb in an empty corner.  She furrowed her brow and looked back to him.

“There is nothing there.”

He put the unlit pipe into his mouth and looked around.  “Do you see that coat rack near the stairway?”

“No.   There is nothing there but a sign saying “Exit.”

“I see no sign.”

He watched as she looked around at the stairway.  When her eyes came back to him she looked perplexed.

“What is going on here?”

“May I ask your name?”

“Leah.”

“Leah, my name is Hugh . . .  Hugh Wakefield.”

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Wakefield.”

“Call me Hugh, please.”

“Thank you.   May I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why do you dress like that?”

“My tailor says that this is the very epitome of style for men.  I could ask you the same question.”

Leah looked down at herself.  “This.  It is just an outfit I picked up at the mall a few weeks ago.”

She saw him cock his head to one side.

“Mall?”

“You know.  That big shopping mall, 1 New Change.”

“I have never heard of it.”

Hugh sat the book on the arm of the chair and reached for his match box.  When he looked up again, the woman and the cushion were gone.   He stopped, his hand poised to strike the match and looked just to confirm that she was indeed gone.   He slowly struck the match and lit the tobacco in the bowl of his pipe and tossed the spent match toward the ash can.  Leaning back in the chair, he looked at the spot where the woman had appeared and saw nothing amiss.   The polished wood floor gleamed in the electric lights.  Glancing up at the opening to the staircase, he saw that the coat rack stood near the railing and there was no evidence of a sign.

The lights seemed to dim and when Leah could again see, the chair and its strangely dressed occupant were gone.  She blinked and then rubbed her eyes.  The dull wooden floor showed no sign of the chair.   She sat stupefied for a few moments.  Sitting with the book in her lap, she was debating with herself trying to decide if she was going crazy or just hallucinating.  She shivered and decided to leave.  As she stood, she stopped.  She was sure she had caught the faint smell of pipe tobacco.  Looking around she could find nothing nor anyone else near her.  She replaced the book into its place on the shelf was soon on her way out of the library.

Hugh sat for a moment and puffed quietly on his pipe.  He looked at his pocket watch and decided that he should leave and go to his club for dinner.   As he stood, he caught a faint whiff of a sweet scent.  He had never smelt such in the library and he looked to see if someone had come by without his notice.  Seeing no one, he clamped his teeth onto the pipe stem, put the book back into its place on the shelf and headed down the stairs. As he walked down the stairs his mind was busy with the occurrences in the library.   He wondered if he was suffering from some form of mental collapse.  He had heard tales of men and women who saw and even conversed with apparitions.   He wasn’t a particularly religious man and had no truck with belief in ghosts and demons.  Yet.  It was all so surprisingly real, and the woman was so strange in her mannerisms and her dress.  He continued to puzzle over the conversation with the woman until he entered the door of his club.  As usual, he was led to his usual table near the window on the back side of the club.  The barman arrived with his scotch and, as he cleaned out his pipe and began to repack it with fresh tobacco, one of his associates stopped.

“Hugh.  Are you ill?   You look a bit peaked, and I swear there is a tremor in your hand.”

Hugh looked up at him. 

“It is nothing really.  I appreciate your concern.  I had a bit of a disconcerting meeting a few moments ago and I suppose it is still worrying my nerves.”

The gentleman nodded and moved on.   Presently the waiter arrived with his usual meal, a prime rib roast and Yorkshire pudding.   He set the library from his mind and set to his meal with gusto.