After lunch and an excellent coffee, I hastened back to the library at a run, afraid I'd be late. But the door was still closed, and I had to wait a few minutes for Conny to arrive and unlock it.

"Hey Lynn, all well?"

"Thanks, yes, I think I'm getting the hang of it."

She stowed her key and hung up her coat. "Glad to hear—l thought of you this morning. I bet Marjorie was overwhelming with her instructions."

That was the understatement of the day, but the hour with Becca had helped me to gather my wits and renew my resolution to make this work. "I believe she is worried we will run into trouble of one or the other kind while she is away, so I tried to reassure her. But I guess I failed, and it will be up to you to convince her we're not a helpless bunch."

Her warm laughter reminded me of her daughter's. "I'll give my best. Thanks for the warning. It's children's afternoon, though, I guess Marjorie will be busy. She enjoys working with the little ones."

I had already gathered, but we had to stop our discussion when the librarian came in. Before she retreated with Conny to the office, she turned to me. "Lynn, would you mind preparing the sitting area for the reading? We place the cubes in a semicircle facing the sofa. You will find drawing utensils in the drawer there and paper in the office next to the printer. Please distribute them on the tables."

I followed her instructions, rearranged the cubes, and placed coloured pencils and loose sheets of paper in different pastel shades on the low tables. When she returned, Marjorie nodded her approval and asked me to help rearrange the children's drawings on the white board next to the sofa to make room for new ones.

"I like to let our young guests draw something from the story and pin up the pictures afterwards, if they don't want to take them home. It gives the place a personal touch, and I always find it fascinating what kids see as the heart of a story." She placed the pictures she had removed in a folder, closed it, and handed me a book. "Today, it's your turn to read to the little dears, so you can get used to it."

"Are you sure?" Taken by surprise, I tried to talk her out of it. "I have never read to more than a couple of children, and they come here to listen to your reading, not mine."

"No, it's fine. You have to learn, and they won't mind. Today, I'll be here to support you if needed while next week, you must survive without the luxury of a backup."

Despite my hope of having another opportunity to witness her working the magic, she was right, and I caved in. "What if I stumble over my own words?"

"Reading to an audience is not witchcraft, Lynn." What an interesting choice of words. She didn't seem to notice my surprise, though, and continued her instructions. "Just remember to read slow. This is the essential part, since you have to finish the chapter, but you don't need to do it in a rush. If you need to pause—to turn the page or to catch a breath—take your time. These are children. They won't judge you for a few irregularities."

In my experience, kids could be quite judgemental, but there was no use in pointing it out and making myself more nervous. I checked the book I held and couldn't help but smile. Charlotte's Web was another beloved classic.

In the meantime, more and more children had come in until close to two dozen had assembled without too much of ruckus. A few of the younger were accompanied by older siblings or a parent, but they either kept to the back or wandered off to browse the library.

Marjorie introduced me and recapitulated the story to her young audience up to where they had left a week ago. Then it was my turn to begin at the point she had marked with a pink sticky note. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, cleared my throat, and plunged into the cold water.

To my relief, I didn't stumble over too many words, and while some kids played with the crayons, all were quiet and most seemed engrossed by my performance, their eager eyes on me. When I finished the chapter, Marjorie pressed my shoulder and whispered a "well done" into my ear.

I had been too busy reading to check if the piglet Wilbur or Charlotte the spider appeared to my audience, but I doubted it. At least I hadn't made a fool of myself.

Marjorie clapped her hands. "Let's give Lynn an applause for her reading."

Embarrassed, I waited for the clapping to subside. "Thank you all for listening."

"Now, everyone can either do a drawing of what you heard today or go find a book of your own to read—whatever you like best."

To my surprise, more than half of the children picked up crayons and began drawing. Only a few wandered off to their parents or picked up a book of their own. Per Marjorie's instructions, I was supposed to supervise the children during the second part of the afternoon. This included sharpening the pencils if necessary, guide those in need to the restroom, or finding them a book to read. As I walked from table to table, I realised quite a few kids tried their hand at drawing piglets and spiders. A fuzzy warmth wrapped around me like a blanket of appreciation.

One of the older boys sat alone, absorbed in his drawing and oblivious to the surrounding room. Over his shoulder, I caught a glance at his work and couldn't help but wonder.

"This is pretty. Is it a spaceship?"

He looked up, his grey eyes reminding me of someone, but I couldn't place it. "Yes, it's called the Strawberry Mollusk."

"Hm, that is a unique and interesting name for a spacecraft. I've never heard of that one, but I like the colour. I bet pink spaceships are on the rare side."

He shook his head, giggling. "They are, and this is the only one in the known universe. My sister told me all about it." Serious again, he pointed at his drawing. "Here, the fat nose holds the cargo, and this here is the gravity ring, see? They must always keep it turning so you they don't float around in the ship while they want to eat something or brush their teeth."

I couldn't suppress a smile at the thought of teeth-brushing space travellers, but artificial gravity? The boy's sister must be a true science fiction geek. "And who is that peeking out of the windows?"

He looked at me as if I had lost my marbles. "Wilbur and Charlotte, of course, and this is their alien friend who rescued them and brings them to a planet where they can live without being afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Because the farmer wants to slaughter Wilbur."

I had to admit this was an exciting new twist to the old story and was impressed by the boy's vivid imagination. "I like your drawing. When you have finished it, will you allow me to pin it up on our board over there?"

His gaze followed my pointing finger, and he shrugged. "But it's not like the pictures of the others."

"True, but I like your drawing style—and how the alien saves Wilbur, and pink spaceships are cool."

He contemplated me with a frown before he nodded. "You think so? I guess it's fine, then."

Shoes clicking on the floorboards announced the Conny's artival. Funny how fast I'd learned to recognise the rhythm of her steps. When I turned around, she smiled, but not at me. "Hey, Danny. I see you befriended Lynn."

The boy jumped up to hug her. So, this was Amber's little brother, Conny's son. No wonder he had her grey eyes, a knack for spaceships, and was familiar with details most adults I knew never had heard of. Probably he would draw the Heart of Gold next week, or Marvin the paranoid robot with his brain the size of a planet.

"Mum, she read to us from the book with the spider and the pig."

"I thought she might." His mother winked at me. "Did she do a good job?"

"Yes, I loved how she did the voices, too. And she also knows about spaceships."

Conny raised a brow. "Does she? Then I'm glad you finally found an expert. Is it alright if I abduct Lynn for a moment? We have some organisational stuff to discuss and want to give Marjorie a proper goodbye. But your sister should arrive in half an hour, and you can call me anytime if something is amiss."

Danny shrugged. "It's alright, Mum, I'm sure Cat will drop by soon and I want to show him my drawing."

Cat? Well, with Danny's imagination, it wasn't surprising he could see the Cheshire Cat. His words showed he had befriended the weird feline. I longed to learn more, but Conny pinched her nose. "Danny, what did I say about Cat?"

He lowered his gaze to the drawing, rolling a pencil over the table. "That he doesn't exist?"

His mother seemed relieved, but the boy pressed his lips together and picked up the blue pencil. I was sure the spaceship would be fitted with another passenger to be evacuated to the safety of an alien planet soon.

On the way to the office, Conny shook her head. "The boy has me worried with his world full of imaginary friends."

I resisted the temptation to tell her I had befriended his imaginary friends, too, but I couldn't let the boy down either and tried a roundabout approach. "I don't see harm in it. How old is your Danny?"

"Turning nine in two months. This should be old enough to stop believing in talking cats and sparkly dragons, I reckon."

But still young enough to believe in alien visitors saving pigs from being slaughtered, it seemed. I couldn't help but find the boy adorable and wanted to support him.

"I'm aware this isn't my business, but I think you shouldn't let yourself get stressed about his imagination. At his age, many children can build fictional worlds and play in them for hours. He seems like a clever and nice kid to me, and most important of all, his heart is in the right spot."

Conny's shoulders sagged. "Thanks, I guess you might be right. I've tried to talk him out of it for months, in the hope he would find more real life friends, but in vain."

"Some kids are less sociable than others, and that's fine. When he comes into his teens, it might spare you a load of trouble if he picks his friends with care. Besides, your son has exceptional drawing skills and a good eye for details."

She sighed. "I know. He has that from his late father. I think he might become an artist one day. It's just that sometimes, I fear it's my fault that he is so withdrawn and a dreamer. With my full-time job, I don't spend enough time with him, and I'm afraid he withdrew into his own world to avoid the reality when his father died."

I glanced at Danny over my shoulder, wondering how he felt about the situation. Oblivious to our talk, the boy had his head bowed over his drawing again. Beside him on the table sat the blue tabby, tail wrapped around its legs. As if it felt my gaze, it turned its head in my direction, wearing its broadest Cheshire grin, and gave me a mischievous wink from emerald eyes.