‘Who are you?’ But before she had finished the question, she realised she already knew the answer. ‘I’m the librarian,’ the woman said, coyly. ‘That is who.’ Her face was one of kind but stern wisdom. She had the same neat cropped grey hair she’d always had, with a face that looked precisely as it always did in Nora’s mind. For there, right in front of her, was her old school librarian. ‘Mrs Elm.’ Mrs Elm smiled, thinly. ‘Perhaps.’
