Lilia had wanted to work in a library because she loved books.
   Admitted, she was now also in training to become a vet – but that had come later.  Ever since she had been a small girl of eleven years old, reading her first Harry Potter book (she was a fanatic) she had wanted to share her love of fiction.
   After the short job interview in which she was absently questioned by a harassed-looking woman nearing the riper end of middle age, she allowed herself a small skip of delight and satisfaction as she crossed the footbridge above the sluggish afternoon traffic.  She envisaged herself on the following Monday, when she was due to begin work – tenderly taking the hand of a small child and leading them to the brightly coloured books, their expression of rapture as they contemplated the rows of pages, the gateway into a thousand new worlds…the mother of the child, fervently thanking her – “I’ve never been able to get them to read before!”
   She envisaged herself showing a sullen teenager to the shelf of well-thumbed classics and introducing them to one of her favourites, perhaps Austen – Pride and Prejudice – or Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men.  The same teenager, returning week after week to peruse the enriching matter to be found on the shelf, their parents and teachers marvelling at the transformation from uncommunicative slob to an eloquent being a true pleasure to be with.
   She envisaged herself engaged in intellectual conversation with some rich and refined old lady, attracting her admiration – “You really must come to tea with me some time, darling, I’ve the most wonderful first edition of –”
   “Oh, sorry!”
   Absorbed in daydreams, Lilia had neglected to notice the crowd around her.  Now she had wandered into a tall man, who had stopped, probably causing gridlock in the press of hurrying people behind him.
   Lilia made to go round him.  “Really, I should have been looking where I was going, God, I’m sorry, are you okay?”  Mumbled apologies for the sake of politeness; she was blushing, trying to avoid eye contact.
   He caught at her arm.  “No, it was my fault.  I dare say I’m hard to avoid!” He chuckled. For the first time, Lilia looked up, wishing to see what he meant.
   She saw.  He had very broad shoulders and a barrel chest, emphasised by the stiff, black leather jacket he wore.  Beneath that was a plain black cashmere jumper, over the neck of which poked the corners of a white collar.  He also wore black jeans.  He wasn’t fat, far from it – he looked as if he had spent hours body building.
   She couldn’t help it.  She had to look at his face.
   He was head and shoulders taller than her – about six foot two to her five foot five.  He had very deep blue eyes which held amusement.  Wanting to avoid those eyes, she noted he was bald, with fairly pale, thin lips and a gold hoop in one ear.
   He still gripped her upper arm.  She tugged gently, attempting to hint, and he released it with another laugh.  “Forgive my impropriety.  Are you all right?”
   She nodded.  “Er – I’ve got – running late – um…”  Lilia gestured vaguely in the direction of the bank.  At least, she didn’t notice where her hands moved, but there was a bank on all sides of the market square apart from the one adjacent to the corner where they stood, so that didn’t matter.
   His eyes widened slightly.  “Ah! Then I’ll let you go.  Nice to have met you.  Apologies again for stopping you.  Goodbye!” He made a strange gesture, almost a salute, and stepped around her, brushing her arm.  Then he joined the tide of shoppers and was borne away.  

***

   Later on, in the privacy of the four-roomed flat that Lilia now took pride in calling her very own home, she was still daydreaming about her soon-to-exist achievements as a librarian when she realised that something about the man she had met earlier had struck her as odd, or at the very least unfamiliar.  His accent had been faintly Brummy, but that wasn’t it…a smell of cigarette smoke had hung about him and had made her wrinkle her nose in distaste, but that wasn’t unfamiliar either, or particularly odd.  No, there had been something else.  Lilia couldn’t think what it could be.
   Suddenly the phone rang.  Lilia picked up the extension in the living room and flopped onto the couch.  “Hello?”
   “Lilia!  I’ve been ringing all day!  I left seven messages and three on your mobile!  Where were you, darling?  Why didn’t you pick up?”
   It was her mother.  Lilia glanced at the phone base; the green message light was, indeed, flashing.
   “Mum, I was at the library, remember?  Asking after a job?”
   “Oh, yes!  Now you mention it I do remember.  How silly of me to panic.  How did it go, darling?  Did you get the job?
   Lilia paused, savouring the moment of her mother’s anticipation.  Then, “Yup.”
   There was a high-pitched squeak from the other end of the phone.  “Oh, Lily!  Well done, darling!”  She fell silent for a second; Lilia could faintly hear a deeper voice at the other end.  “Hold on, your father wants to speak to you, darling.  I’ll say goodbye in a moment –”
   Lilia heard the phone being passed over and sighed in relief.  Much as she loved her mother, she might at least get some more rational conversation now.
   “Lilia?”
   “Hi, Dad.”
   “What’s this I hear about a job, then?”
   “At the library, yeah.”
   “Congratulations.  When do you start?”
   “Monday.  And I work Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, 11 until 7.30, so I still have time for classes in the evening.”
   “Do you get paid?”
   “We’re mostly volunteers, but we do get a bit.  ‘Bout £6 per hour, I think.”
   “That’s all right.  Bit of extra money for you.  And you think you’re going to enjoy it?”
   Lilia was sure she was, reminded of her daydreams, and said so.
   “Excellent.  That’s my girl.  Well, I’ll let you get off now.  Congratulations again.”
   Lilia grinned; it was nice, having people feel proud of her.  She felt as though she had begun to make her way in the world.  “Thanks, Dad.  Bye.”
   “Bye, Lilia.”
   Lilia heard the faint sound of her mother – “Bye bye, Lily!  See you –” and then the click as the phone was hung up.
   Pressing the red button, Lilia slotted the phone into the base and checked the screen.  Eight messages.  So someone besides her mother had tried to speak to her.  She skipped through the predictable checking-up messages from her mother – the first seven – to the last.  She guessed it would be one of her friends at the vet classes, who had known she’d been looking for a job, calling to wish her good luck.
   At first she thought whoever had called hadn’t realised the recording had started.  Lilia endured ten seconds of silence before allowing herself to admit that it was deliberate.
   But was it total silence?  At the other end of the phone, she thought she could detect slow, heavy breathing.  Lilia began to feel a prickling fear, which quickly turned to needling terror.
   It was a prank call.  Or a wrong number.  Or someone was trying to think what to say.  Lilia tried to calm herself by bombarding her mind with suggestions.  None of them worked.  She fast-forwarded through the message, feeling as if there were eyes on her back, curling into a corner of the sofa.  Finally, as the screen read five minutes, the call ended.
   Lilia quickly dialled 1471.  The monotone of the BT lady comforted her slightly; a return to reality.
   “Telephone number oh, seven, nine, four, seven, eight, four, six, two, three, called today at eighteen fifteen.  To return this call-”
   Lilia hung up, scribbling on the pad by the telephone.  07 – a mobile number.  Taking out her own mobile, she thumbed through the phone book, comparing each entry to the number she had just heard.  None matched.
   Maybe, she tried to reason with herself, one of her friends had used someone else’s mobile to call and freak her out.  That would be it.
   Shuddering, she got to her feet.  It was still scary, even if it had been just a joke.  Glancing around her familiar living room, Lilia made her way to the bathroom and got into the shower.  She spent twenty full minutes in its reassuring warmth before pulling on an old baggy t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, making herself some hot chocolate, and going to bed.

***

   Elsewhere in the city, a blue-and-white car drew up outside a house.  Its occupants were not altogether in harmony with each other; in fact, two of them were downright furious, although fuming silently rather than taking action.
   “So, do I get to go home now?” the third occupant of the car said snidely. “Get done all those things I wanted to do before you took me into custody?”
   “Yes, sir,” answered one of the policemen.  “And we do apologise most sincerely for taking up your time, but we had no choice.”
   “Purely a formality,” commented the second.
   “No charges?” asked the third man.
   “No.  No charges.  We just needed you for questioning.”
   “Well, then, I’ll say goodbye, gentlemen.”  The only man in the car not wearing a uniform opened the door and got out of the car, and, without looking back, opened the door to his house and vanished inside.