of welcomes, the nods and smiles of well-wishers. Helena acknowledged them all politely for me. We walked across the street toward the large wooden two-story building with a decked porch across the front. An intricate carving of a scroll and theatrical feathered pen decorated the door. Helena pushed the door open and the scroll and feather halved as though bowing and holding out their arms to make way for us.
“This is the registry. Everyone comes here when they first arrive,” Helena explained patiently. “Everybody’s name and details are logged in these books so that we can keep track of who is who and how many people are here.”
“In case anybody goes missing,” I said smartly.
“I think you’ll find that nothing goes missing here, Sandy.” Helena was serious. “Things have no place else to go and so they stay here.”
I ignored the chill of her implication and instead tried unsuccessfully to inject humor into the situation. “What will I do with myself if I’ve nothing to look for?”
“You’ll do what you’ve always wanted; you’ll seek out those you searched for. Finish the job you started.”
“Then what?”
She was silent.
“Then you’ll help me get home, right?” I asked rather forcefully.
She didn’t respond.
“Helena,” a cheery fellow called out from where he was sitting behind a desk. On the desk a series of numbers was displayed. Beside the main door there was a board with all the countries of the world, their associated languages, some of which I’d never even heard of, and their corresponding numbers. I matched one of the numbers on his desk to a familiar one on the board. COUNTRY: IRELAND. LANGUAGES: GAELIC, ENGLISH.
“Hello, Terence.” Helen seemed glad of the interruption to our conversation.
It was then that I looked around the room for the first time. There were dozens of desks in the large room. Each desk had a series of numbers and behind each desk sat a person of a different nationality. Lines had formed before the tables. The room was quiet and filled with the tension of hundreds of people who had just arrived, who couldn’t yet comprehend their situation. They each looked around the room nervously with wide, terrified eyes as they hugged their own bodies for comfort.
I noticed Helena had joined Terence at his desk.
He looked up as I approached them. “Welcome.” He smiled softly. I sensed sympathy in the older man’s voice, and his accent revealed his Irish roots.
“Sandy, this is Terence O’Malley. Terence, this is Sandy. Terence has been here for…oh gosh, how many years has it been now, Terence?” Helena asked him.
Eleven years, I thought.
“Almost eleven years now,” he replied with a smile.
“Terence worked as a—”
“Librarian in Ballina,” I cut in before even thinking about it. Ten years on, he was still recognizable as the single, fifty-five-year-old librarian who had disappeared on his way home from work eleven years ago.
Helena froze and Terence looked confused.
“Oh yes, I told you that before we came in,” Helena jumped in. “Silly me. I must be getting old, repeating myself like that.” She laughed.
“I know the feeling.” Terence laughed, pushing his sliding spectacles back up his nose.
I’d always thought his nose was exactly like his sister’s. I studied it some more.
“Well.” Terence began to fidget under my glare and he turned to Helena for backup, “Let’s get down to business now, shall we. If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat, Sandy, I’ll help you go through this form, it’s very simple really.”
As I took a seat before the desk I looked at the lines around me; to my right a woman was helping a young boy onto the chair before her desk. “Permettimi di aiutarti a sederti e mi puoi raccontare tutto su come sei arrivato fin qui. Avresti voglia di un po’ di latte con biscotti?”
He looked at her with big brown eyes, as lost as a puppy, and nodded. She nodded to someone behind her, who
“This is the registry. Everyone comes here when they first arrive,” Helena explained patiently. “Everybody’s name and details are logged in these books so that we can keep track of who is who and how many people are here.”
“In case anybody goes missing,” I said smartly.
“I think you’ll find that nothing goes missing here, Sandy.” Helena was serious. “Things have no place else to go and so they stay here.”
I ignored the chill of her implication and instead tried unsuccessfully to inject humor into the situation. “What will I do with myself if I’ve nothing to look for?”
“You’ll do what you’ve always wanted; you’ll seek out those you searched for. Finish the job you started.”
“Then what?”
She was silent.
“Then you’ll help me get home, right?” I asked rather forcefully.
She didn’t respond.
“Helena,” a cheery fellow called out from where he was sitting behind a desk. On the desk a series of numbers was displayed. Beside the main door there was a board with all the countries of the world, their associated languages, some of which I’d never even heard of, and their corresponding numbers. I matched one of the numbers on his desk to a familiar one on the board. COUNTRY: IRELAND. LANGUAGES: GAELIC, ENGLISH.
“Hello, Terence.” Helen seemed glad of the interruption to our conversation.
It was then that I looked around the room for the first time. There were dozens of desks in the large room. Each desk had a series of numbers and behind each desk sat a person of a different nationality. Lines had formed before the tables. The room was quiet and filled with the tension of hundreds of people who had just arrived, who couldn’t yet comprehend their situation. They each looked around the room nervously with wide, terrified eyes as they hugged their own bodies for comfort.
I noticed Helena had joined Terence at his desk.
He looked up as I approached them. “Welcome.” He smiled softly. I sensed sympathy in the older man’s voice, and his accent revealed his Irish roots.
“Sandy, this is Terence O’Malley. Terence, this is Sandy. Terence has been here for…oh gosh, how many years has it been now, Terence?” Helena asked him.
Eleven years, I thought.
“Almost eleven years now,” he replied with a smile.
“Terence worked as a—”
“Librarian in Ballina,” I cut in before even thinking about it. Ten years on, he was still recognizable as the single, fifty-five-year-old librarian who had disappeared on his way home from work eleven years ago.
Helena froze and Terence looked confused.
“Oh yes, I told you that before we came in,” Helena jumped in. “Silly me. I must be getting old, repeating myself like that.” She laughed.
“I know the feeling.” Terence laughed, pushing his sliding spectacles back up his nose.
I’d always thought his nose was exactly like his sister’s. I studied it some more.
“Well.” Terence began to fidget under my glare and he turned to Helena for backup, “Let’s get down to business now, shall we. If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat, Sandy, I’ll help you go through this form, it’s very simple really.”
As I took a seat before the desk I looked at the lines around me; to my right a woman was helping a young boy onto the chair before her desk. “Permettimi di aiutarti a sederti e mi puoi raccontare tutto su come sei arrivato fin qui. Avresti voglia di un po’ di latte con biscotti?”
He looked at her with big brown eyes, as lost as a puppy, and nodded. She nodded to someone behind her, who
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