The Paperweight Library

Mavis was now in her second year of retirement. Most days, she found things to do, but to be honest, she felt bored. Money was tight; it always had been.

For decades, she’d worked for a large cleaning company that serviced offices, shopping malls, and municipal buildings. The staffroom was always full of women, but they weren’t exceptionally social. They exchanged greetings, asked after each other’s families, then hurried home to husbands and children who needed feeding and fussing. After Clive’s early death, Mavis simply got on with it — took the extra shifts, did her job well, came home to a quiet house, made a small supper, watched the telly, and turned in early so she could rise again at 4:30 the next morning.

When her 65th birthday came around, the company announced a farewell “do.” Mavis didn’t have the confidence to tell them she didn’t want one, nor that she would’ve gladly worked another ten years if they’d let her. So she accepted the card, the chocolates, and the traditional clock, smiled politely, and went home battling back tears of loneliness and loss, not because of sentiment, but because of the strange emptiness of it all.

Now, with no job to go to, no family to call, and no close friends to meet, she often felt she was simply… existing. She’d never been much of a reader, and these days, the idea of picking up a book just made her feel even more alone.

Sitting in her spotless front room, hands resting in her lap, she sighed and looked around. Everything gleamed. Everything was in its place. Still, something wasn’t right.

Her eye fell on the neatly folded local newspaper. She reached for it out of habit, flicked past the headlines, skipped the letters page, and turned — as she always did — to Situations Vacant.

She tutted at herself.

“Don’t be daft. You’re sixty-six. Who’s going to hire you now?”

But then something caught her eye.

Berkingsdale University – Situations Vacant

Part-time cleaner needed for the Old Library building. Contents must be prepared for auction. Books and fixtures require thorough cleaning. Ideal for an experienced individual who can work independently with minimal supervision. Interviews will be held at the Academic Registry, Main Assembly Hall, at 10:00 a.m. on Tuesday, 10th June. References and letters of recommendation are essential.

She sat bolt upright in her chair.

“It doesn’t mention age”, she thought excitedly. “It says experienced - you have to be old if you’re experienced!”

She’d never been one for friendships. Even Clive, her late husband, hadn’t been much company. She took a deep breath and wondered if there were anyone she could contact to ask whether they thought she would be suitable. But as she flicked through her semi-dormant brain cells, she couldn’t come up with anyone.

“Go on Tuesday for the interview. They can only say no”.

As the days passed, she began to feel more and more excited about the prospect of securing the part-time cleaning job. A reason to rise in the morning; a reason to prepare an evening meal for herself; a reason to sort through clean clothes for the early hours of the morning and set off for a responsible day of work, returning home to know that, within a few hours, she would be required to start the day all over again. How wonderful this would be.

She arrived ten minutes early at the appointed place. She noticed a row of chairs arranged against the wall and, after standing for a few minutes in anticipation of others' arrivals, eventually shrugged her shoulders and selected a seat in the middle of the row, perching her brown faux leather handbag on her knee as she waited.

At precisely ten o’clock, the door to the north of the Main Assembly Hall swung open, and a gentleman with curly grey hair, likely in his late 70s, entered, dressed in a brown corduroy jacket with leather patches on each elbow. He glanced at Mavis and approached her. Mavis shifted her handbag and rose to her feet, bowing her head as he stood before her.

“Hello. Are you here for the 10.00 appointment? For the cleaner? The Library, don’t you know?”

“Yes, sir, I am,” said a nervous Mavis.

“Oh, please sit down. I am Jack Brown, the ex-librarian… and who might you be?”

“I’m Mrs Stevens. Mavis Stevens.”

“Ah, Mavis Stevens. Good to meet you. Would you mind sharing a bit about yourself—your previous jobs and your experience in cleaning, preparing, and classifying items for auction?”

“Oh, nothing like that, sir. I’m just a good cleaner. I’ve worked all my life cleaning and tidying—most of the offices here in town, private houses, and large shopping malls—that sort of thing. I have never worked in a university before and have never prepared items for an auction. But I can learn if you show me.”

Jack Brown smiled. “Yes, I can show you what is required. After you’ve been shown what to do, do you think you can work on your own, Mrs Stevens? We did not intend to employ more than one person, and as you can see, you appear to be the only candidate for the job.”

Mavis smiled excitedly. “Oh yes, Mr Brown, I enjoy working on my own, no problem at all.”

“Well done, Mrs Stevens. Shall I walk you to the library where you’ll be working? I’ll explain what is needed, and if you are still interested, we’ll discuss your terms of employment. Is that alright?”

Mavis found her first few weeks enjoyable yet tiring. She was working in what had once been the university's central library. Over the years, various specialised libraries had been established, and as Dr Brown informed her, the main library had ultimately outgrown its usefulness. Dr Brown continued his work in the library, but as his retirement approached, a decision was made to close the old library. All fixtures and fittings would be auctioned off, and ultimately, the library would be demolished, with new university buildings constructed and allocated to various disciplines.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Mavis let herself into the Old Library each working day, and apart from Dr Brown, saw no one at all. She never questioned where anyone was—after all, this building was being prepared for demolition; everyone must be working elsewhere.

Against one of the walls, large plastic cartons had been arranged, and Mavis had been instructed to pack the books she had meticulously dusted and polished as soon as Dr Brown had catalogued each one. The two got along splendidly. He rarely spoke, and Mavis worked as she always had - in complete silence.

One day, while working alone as usual, Mavis passed the large library table in the centre of the room and noticed a peculiar, heavy glass paperweight she didn’t recall having seen before. It rested on a jade-green base, which bore a tarnished brass nameplate. Although it was in dire need of a polish, she could just make out the words: Berkingsdale Library, 1952.

That puzzled her. It was 1952, yet the paperweight seemed old, as if it belonged to another era. Strange, she thought. The dome, however, gleamed as if she had just polished it to a shine. It was a handsome piece. She returned to her tasks.

But a faint dusting on the table caught her eye. Clutching her ever-reliable yellow duster, she leaned in, inhaling the familiar scent of polished teak, and began to wipe the surface.

In the hush of the old library, a flicker of movement startled her. She straightened sharply. Had she just seen… a mouse? She turned in a swift half-circle, scanning for any sign of rodent life. Nothing. Stillness. The silence returned.

Her gaze wandered back to the paperweight. For the first time, she realised the dome housed a miniature scene—a diorama of the very room in which she stood, captured in exquisite detail. Books, desks, shelves, and arches—all perfectly scaled.

But as she looked, disbelief washed over her.

Inside the paperweight, tiny figures were moving, browsing, turning pages, and consulting one another. The library, contained within the dome, was alive.

Mavis leaned closer. There were students, professors, and people chuckling quietly or engrossed in their studies. The same towering bookcases, now brimming with books, had spines that gleamed. The worn library she had been dusting for weeks was transformed.

In the far corner of the teak desk, she heard a tiny female student sigh loudly. She gasped. Another minute figure appeared, distinctly audible as it spoke:

“Are you struggling with that research paper? Shall I fetch you a cup of tea?”

Mavis blinked in disbelief. Had she really heard that? Surely not.

She cast a glance around her own library—no Dr Brown. No one. Just her and this impossible dome.

Mavis continued to gaze in wonder, transfixed by the unfolding scene inside the paperweight. She leaned in further. The double wooden doors of the miniature library swung open and closed as more figures arrived—some young, some older. There was a bustle of quiet industry. At the back of the scene, near a large table, stood a catering area with a tea urn, pots, cups, and biscuits. A woman in crisp white linen smiled kindly at each visitor.

Mavis leaned in so closely that her cheek nearly touched the glass. The scene seemed to swell, becoming more detailed. Then the catering lady looked up ... and waved.

Mavis recoiled, her heart racing. The woman was her. Not quite as she looked now, but as she had been: open-faced, content, radiant. It was like seeing a happier ghost of herself.

Before she could make sense of it, a voice beside her said, “Ah, you’ve found us, Mrs Stevens.”

It was Dr Brown who had appeared quietly alongside her.

“I don’t understand Dr Brown. What is this?”

He looked gently towards the dome. “Well, that’s you. The woman waving? You know her quite well, don’t you?”

She glanced again, then turned back to him. “But… I thought I was cleaning. Helping with an auction. I never saw this before.”

Dr Brown gave a soft chuckle. “May I call you Mavis? I’m Jack.”

She nodded warily.

"During your interview time here, you have proven yourself. We needed someone who could move quietly among us – someone gentle, someone who could bring comfort".

“My interview?” she said, her eyes widening. “I’ve been here for weeks. Did you think I wasn’t doing a good job?”

Jack shook his head. “You’ve been doing exactly what we hoped for. It wasn’t your cleaning we were assessing—it was your presence.”

Mavis turned away from him and looked back into the dome. The catering woman—herself - was now joined by a grey-haired man who was being offered a steaming hot cup of tea.

“Oh look,” Jack said, with a quiet laugh. “Seems to be me.”

Mavis blinked. She anticipated seeing the vast, dusty library behind her, but instead, when she turned, she found herself inside the dome.

“But… what is this place?” she whispered.

Jack smiled. “We’d like to offer you a permanent position. Inside the Paperweight.”

She stared, dumbfounded.

“We’ve all passed on, you see,” he explained. “Librarians. Readers. Quiet souls. The sort the world forgets. But the paperweight remembers. It holds what mattered to us. And when you died—just weeks after retirement—our Chief Librarian asked whether we’d like you to join us.”

“Me? Died?” she said faintly. She looked down at herself — in her white linen uniform, content, composed. “I don’t feel dead,” she murmured. “In fact… I look more alive than I have in years.”

“We thought you might prefer catering over shelving,” said Jack.

“You’re not a big reader, after all. But your presence brings comfort. And tea. And that’s something we value very highly.”

The edges of the dome began to shimmer and then vanished. She hadn’t moved, yet she was inside, entirely, at last.

Gentle hands guided her to the large chairs in the corner. Around her, voices rose in welcome. She sipped the tea they had brought her and looked around, proud of the shelves she had polished to such a shine.

“Jack?” she asked.

“Yes, Mavis?”

“What happens to the paperweight? When they knock the building down?”

Jack smiled. “Oh, Mavis. The old library was demolished years ago. The Chief Librarian is the custodian now. The paperweight is passed down from the Chief Librarian to the next Chief Librarian. It’s in excellent hands.”

And Mavis, who’d known so little joy in life with Clive, found it at last — inside the glass, with gentle purpose, quiet friendship, and a seat by the kettle.