‘Did you see the look on Brian Spencer’s face when I mentioned the council selling off the building?’ Mrs B said. ‘He looked like he was having a seizure.’
‘What do you think the council’s Plan B is?’ Stanley said.
‘I imagine they’ll try to get a court order to have us evicted.’
‘What do we do until then?’
‘We could make ourselves useful?’ Mrs B said. ‘I can’t remember the last time this place had a lick of paint.’
‘I can go to the shop now and buy some supplies,’ June said, keen to get out of the library for some fresh air.
‘No, you need to have something to eat first,’ Stanley said. ‘It looks like it might be a long old slog. You’ll need your energy.’
*
By the middle of the afternoon, the library was busier than June had ever seen it. Word had got out about the protest and more people had turned up, filling every corner of the room. All the chairs were taken, and people stood around chatting, children running between their legs. Mrs Bransworth was debating the merits of socialism with a group of students by the Periodicals rack and Stanley was sitting in the Children’s Room reading The Twits to some of the little ones. Chantal was there with several of her friends and Jackson was reciting his haiku to anyone who’d listen. Even Vera was there, acting as unofficial security on the front door. June looked round the room and felt a rush of affection for them all.
‘June, there’s someone here to see you,’ Vera shouted. When June got to the door, she saw the journalist Tessa and her camerawoman scanning the room.
‘Any strippers?’ Tessa said.
‘Rocky preferred the term exotic dancer,’ Vera said. ‘I told June we should have invited him.’
‘Did people really sleep here last night?’ Tessa said.
‘Yep.’ June pointed out Stanley and Mrs Bransworth.
‘Those two? Cleo, get some shots over there.’ Tessa signalled towards Stanley reading with the kids. ‘I think we can make a nice little story out of this.’
June spotted Leila approaching the library with her son, Mahmoud, who was carrying a cardboard box.
‘Sorry, it’s a bit chaotic in here today,’ June said, when they walked in. ‘We’re having a protest against the council wanting to shut the library.’
‘We heard,’ Mahmoud said.
Leila nudged him and he handed the box over to June. She lifted off the lid and saw it contained several cakes, each beautifully decorated.
‘Victoria sponge . . . chocolate . . . coffee,’ Leila said. ‘Delia Smith.’
‘Oh, Leila, you didn’t have to.’
‘Is that cake?’ Vera was peering over June’s shoulder into the box.
June unloaded the cakes onto the table and soon there was a crowd of older ladies cooing over the delicate icing flowers and helping themselves to generous slices. Tessa nodded and Cleo turned her camera to film them.
‘Oh, this sponge is delicious,’ said one of the women.
Vera picked up a bit of chocolate cake and sniffed it.
‘Go on,’ the women said.
Vera put a small piece in her mouth and chewed it, her face scrunched up.
‘Thank you, Leila,’ June said. ‘It’s so kind of you to bring the cake.’
‘I . . . I think . . .’ Leila frowned and looked at Mahmoud, then began speaking in Arabic. Her son translated.
‘Mum says she’d be sad if the library closes. She likes coming here for the cookery books, but also because she likes to see all the different people here. The children singing. It reminds her of home.’
June felt a lump in her throat for the second time in twenty-four hours. ‘Please tell your mum we’re fighting to save the library. I promise, we’re doing everything we can.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
BY SIX O’CLOCK MOST people had begun to drift off, making their excuses for why they couldn’t stay overnight. June thought of her own home, with its comfortable bed and a microwave lasagne-for-one waiting in the freezer. Then she spotted Stanley sitting in his chair, looking exhausted.
‘Why don’t you go home tonight and get some rest?’ June said to him.
‘Thank you, but I’m not leaving this place until the council assure us it’s safe.’
‘Mum, can I stay?’ Chantal asked Michelle, who was trying to coax her three-year-old twins into the buggy.
‘If the others don’t mind. But don’t you dare cause any bother.’
When the last visitor had gone, June locked the front door.
‘Well, this is the motliest crew of protesters I’ve ever seen,’ Mrs B said, looking from Stanley to June and Chantal.
They began tidying up the mess from the day. Once the library was looking a little clearer, June pulled out her phone and typed a message to Linda, asking her to feed Alan Bennett. A minute later, a reply popped up.
SPENDING THE NIGHT WITH ALEX?!! MAKE SURE U TAKE CLEAN KNICKERS WITH U – MAYBE THE SLUTTY ONES U GOT FROM THAT SHOP??
June thrust her phone away. She spotted Chantal over in the corner, searching through the food leftovers.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ June said, when she joined her. ‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.’
Chantal continued rummaging through the bags without looking at June.
‘Your mum mentioned you might not go back to school in September.’
Chantal found a packet of crisps at the bottom and pulled it out, sending everything flying.
‘I just wanted to say, please don’t let what’s going on with the library get in the way of your school work. You’re such a bright girl and you shouldn’t give up on university.’
Chantal finally turned to June. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
‘Get what?’
‘This is just some job for you. And if the library closes, all you’ll have to do is find a new job somewhere else, right?’
‘That’s not true. My mum—’
‘Don’t you live on your own, down on Willowmead?’
June nodded.
‘Well, imagine if you lived in a house with six other people. A house so small that you don’t even have your own bed, let alone a bedroom. Then imagine trying to revise for your exams like that. That’s why I need this place, June, because without it, I’ll never get my A-Levels and I’ll be stuck in this shitty village forever.’
June started to reply but stopped herself. What could she possibly say to make Chantal feel better? The teenager was right; if the library closed there would be lots of people like her whose lives would suffer, and June had been so absorbed with her own problems that she’d barely stopped to think about any of them. She looked away from Chantal towards Stanley, who was sitting in front of one of the computers. He was always the first to arrive at the library and the last to leave. Where would he go all day if it closed?
As if sensing she was thinking about him, Stanley looked up and signalled to June. ‘Come on, the local news is on.’
The four of them huddled round the computer to watch the first two items, but there was no mention of the library occupation.
‘Maybe we won’t be featured this time,’ Stanley said.
‘Vera was right,’ Mrs B said. ‘We should have got Rocky along.’
Just then Tessa appeared on screen, standing outside the library. ‘First, there was a stripper. Now, the sleepy village of Chalcot has gone one step further in its attempt to save its library.’
‘Look, Mrs Bransworth, it’s you,’ Stanley said, as they watched images of Mrs B in the crowded library.
‘Pensioners from the village have occupied the library in protest at the council’s threat to close it down,’ Tessa said over the shots.
‘Pensioners!’ Mrs B shrieked. ‘Who’s she calling a bloody pensioner?’
‘I turned up this morning and all this was going on,’ an elderly lady was saying to Tessa. ‘Usually on a Wednesday I come for the Knit and Natter group, but today it’s a bit mor
e exciting.’
Now Stanley appeared in front of them. ‘Older people like me need the library. I don’t have a personal computer at home – I didn’t even know how to turn one on until June here taught me. If the library closes, how will I go surfing?’
‘Go surfing?’ Chantal said. ‘Don’t you mean surfing the internet?’
‘That’s not everything I said,’ Stanley said.
‘We started occupying the library last night.’ Mrs B was being interviewed. ‘I’ve been protesting for more than forty years. I was at Greenham Common in the eighties and I went to Wales for the miners.’
Tessa was on the screen again. ‘OAPs like these hope that their protest will convince Dunningshire Council to protect the village library. And in the meantime, there’s plenty of tea and cake for everyone.’
It cut to shots of Vera and the older ladies eating Leila’s cake. ‘This sponge is delicious,’ one of them said, licking her lips. Then the news cut back to the studio.
June turned the monitor off and everyone stood in silence, staring at the blank screen.
‘I can’t believe she called me a fucking OAP,’ Mrs B said.
‘I said so many eloquent things,’ Stanley said. ‘Why did they only use that surfing line?’
Chantal was frowning. ‘It looked really lame.’
‘Look, let’s all calm down, please,’ June said. ‘I know that piece seemed a bit skewed but at least we got our protest on the news.’
There was a knock on the door.
‘If it’s that Tessa woman, tell her to piss off,’ Mrs B growled.
Stanley went to see who it was. A moment later he reappeared, followed by Alex, who was carrying two large carrier bags. June’s heart momentarily lifted at the sight of him, and then fell when she remembered their embarrassing phone call and Ellie.
‘Hi all. I’ve brought your food,’ Alex said, putting the bags down on a table.
‘Did anyone order Chinese?’ Mrs B asked, and they all shook their heads.
‘Well, it’s yours,’ Alex said.
‘Is it free?’
‘Someone paid for it earlier.’
‘Well, hurry up then, I’m starving.’
They gathered round the table as Alex began unloading the cartons, the food a welcome distraction from the news.
‘Here, I brought you this,’ he said, handing June a large dish of chicken in black bean sauce.
‘Thank you.’ She took the box without looking him in the eye.
June opened the lid but felt too self-conscious to start eating. For eight years, she’d eaten this dish alone at home with a book – had eaten almost every meal alone at home with a book. It felt strange to be having it here, in the library, with four other people chatting around her. June looked across the table. Mrs B and Stanley were having an animated conversation about the news piece, and Alex was telling Chantal a story about his time at university that was making her laugh. They all looked so at ease together, reaching across each other to grab spring rolls and prawn crackers as they talked. June took a mouthful of her food. When was the last time she’d had a meal with a group of people, other than at that hideous hen do? She scanned her mind back but realised with a start that she couldn’t remember. Had it really been before her mum died? How was that possible?
‘You guys, Facebook has gone crazy.’ Chantal was looking at her phone. ‘And we’ve had another six hundred signatures on the online petition.’
‘That’s marvellous.’ Stanley grabbed his glass of water and lifted it in the air. ‘To the Friends of Chalcot Library!’
‘To the Friends of Chalcot Library,’ they all replied, and June laughed as she raised her glass and joined in the toast.
*
Half an hour later, June was so full of food she could barely move. Mrs B and Chantal were clearing up the table, and Stanley and Alex were deep in conversation, their heads close together. June stretched out in her chair, enjoying the satisfied warmth of a good meal.
After a while, Alex stood up. ‘I’d better get back to the takeaway – my aunt will kill me for being gone so long.’
‘June, why don’t you walk out with him?’ Stanley said.
‘Thanks, but I’m fine here.’ June didn’t want to spoil this pleasant feeling by having an awkward conversation with Alex.
‘You should get some fresh air,’ Stanley said. ‘You’ve not left the library all day.’
‘Quite right. You need to keep healthy during an occupation,’ Mrs B added, appearing at her shoulder.
June opened her mouth to resist, but realised they were all staring at her.
‘Fine,’ she said, pulling herself up and following Alex outside. She was conscious of the fact she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and her hair was escaping from its bun, loose curls falling round her face.
‘So, I’ve got a bone to pick with you,’ Alex said, as they set off down The Parade.
‘What have I done?’ June said, alarmed at the tone of his voice. Was this about her calling him while he was with his girlfriend?
‘Why didn’t you warn me about Charlotte’s Web? I almost burst into tears in front of a customer when I finished it.’
June smiled, relieved. ‘Oh. Well, just because a book is meant for children doesn’t mean it can’t pack an emotional punch.’
‘But still, why did the writer have to kill Charlotte? I’ll never hurt a spider again.’
June laughed and felt some of the tension release from her shoulders.
‘Also, I’ve not known what to read for the past few weeks without your recommendations,’ Alex said. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Sorry, I’ve just been busy.’
They chatted about books as they made their way down The Parade. After more than twenty-four hours inside the library walls, it felt wonderful to be outside, breathing in the cool evening air and discussing something other than the protest. As they turned down the hill towards the Golden Dragon, June was aware of their steps getting shorter and slower.
‘I think The Handmaid’s Tale might be a good choice for you next,’ she said, as they edged towards the takeaway. ‘In a way it’s like science fiction because—’
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t help you at the hen do,’ Alex interrupted. ‘I know you’ve been angry with me for not being there, and I feel terrible about it.’
‘I haven’t been angry with you.’
‘Well, you’ve definitely been avoiding me.’
June thought of Ellie’s voice and swallowed. ‘I just felt bad for disturbing you when you were with your . . . someone.’
‘Don’t be crazy, I wanted to help you. You sounded so upset.’
She picked up her pace. ‘It was nothing.’
‘What happened?’
June was about to dismiss him again, but she stopped herself. Alex had already heard her at her lowest; why shouldn’t she give him the full, miserable picture?
‘OK, fine. The girls played this stupid game at the hen do and I was totally humiliated.’
‘What game?’
‘It’s called “Never Have I Ever”.’
‘Oh god, I remember that from uni. A guaranteed way to get everyone wasted.’
‘Not for me, because I hadn’t done any of the things they said. Not one of them.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up about that,’ Alex said. ‘Those girls were always super privileged, so you shouldn’t feel bad because you’ve never driven a Ferrari while wearing Jimmy Choos and drinking Dom Pérignon.’ He laughed but June didn’t join in.
‘It wasn’t just stuff like that. There were some really ordinary things that I’d never done, like going out dancing all night or camping.’
‘Well, I hate camping too.’
They’d reached the takeaway, and June stopped. ‘I haven’t done anything with my life, Alex. Ever since Mum died, I’ve just shut myself away at home, hiding in the same old books so I didn’t have to go out and face the real world.’
‘You’ve be
en grieving, June.’
‘But I let myself become so isolated, even before she died.’ June turned to look at Alex. ‘You know I told you I was friends with Gayle? Well, that was a lie – I was only at the hen do because Marjorie made her invite me. I don’t have any real friends.’
‘Come on, I’m your friend. And what about Stanley?’
‘Stanley’s kind to me but only because he feels sorry for me.’
‘I know that isn’t true.’
‘One of the women at the hen do said my life was tragic, and she was right.’ June swallowed. ‘My mum would be so disappointed in me.’
They were silent for a moment, and June watched people moving around inside the takeaway. Why was she telling Alex all of this?
‘You know that’s not true, don’t you?’ he said. ‘You may not have hundreds of friends or been camping, but you’ve done lots that your mum would be proud of.’
June gave a small, bitter laugh. ‘That’s rubbish. She wanted me to follow my dreams and be a writer.’
‘But what about everything you’ve done for the library?’
‘What about it? The place I love more than anywhere has been threatened, and until yesterday I’d done nothing except hide in the background, too scared to put my head above the parapet. If my mum was here, she’d have been—’
‘June, you need to stop comparing yourself to your mum,’ Alex said, cutting her short. ‘You’re your own person with your own qualities. Yeah, maybe you’re shy and prefer to keep to the back rather than shout from the front. But you’re also smart and kind and loyal, and I for one think you’re pretty amazing.’
Alex stopped talking and looked a little stunned at what he’d just said. The takeaway door opened, and a couple walked out. As they did, a small, grey-haired woman behind the counter caught sight of them. ‘Alex, where’ve you been? I need you in here!’
‘Coming, Auntie,’ he called back, as the door slammed shut. He looked at June. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go in.’
‘That’s OK.’ There was a pause and June stared at her feet. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you, Alex. I just felt humiliated after that phone call.’
The Last Library Page 14