The Last Library

by Freya Sampson

  ‘God, I’m amazed you came after that,’ Isabelle said, still laughing.

  June forced herself to smile. ‘We were wondering, who’s that?’ She pointed across the room to where Draco was now standing in the middle of a group of guys, all braying.

  ‘Which one?’ Isabelle said.

  ‘The one in the middle, over there. With the white-blond hair.’

  ‘Are you telling me you don’t know who he is?’ She looked at them both in astonishment. ‘That’s Rupe.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Rupert. You know, the groom? Gayle’s new husband?’

  It took June a moment to register what Isabelle had said. ‘That’s Gayle’s husband?’

  Isabelle ignored her and fluttered her eyelashes at Alex. ‘Do you fancy a dance?’

  ‘Wait. Do you know what Gayle’s husband does for a living?’ June said.

  Isabelle looked at June in annoyance. ‘What a strange question. I think Gayle said he has something to do with property acquisitions.’ She turned to Alex again. ‘Your glass is empty. Joan, could you be a darling and fetch us a drink? We’ll have champers.’

  June saw Alex open his mouth to protest, but in her shock she turned and walked towards the drinks table, her brain whirring. If Draco Malfoy was Gayle’s husband, did that mean that his pub conversation with Brian was simply an innocent chat between father and son-in-law? Then why the talk of councillors and greasing wheels? June picked up another cocktail and took a long swig as she tried to fit the puzzle pieces together.

  ‘What’s that on your shoes?’ June jumped as Marjorie stepped in next to her.

  ‘Mud, sorry,’ June said, trying to discreetly wipe them on the long tablecloth.

  ‘I can’t believe you had the nerve to turn up here after all the fuss you’ve caused at the library,’ Marjorie said, wrinkling her nose. ‘Do you have any idea of the headaches you’ve given me? And on top of all of this . . .’ She signalled around her at the marquee.

  ‘It’s a beautiful wedding, Marjorie.’

  ‘The decorators completely messed up. We were meant to have blush-pink ribbons on the seat covers and they put on flamingo-pink ones instead. Gayle was so upset she nearly cancelled the whole thing.’

  June looked at the tiny bows that Marjorie was pointing at. ‘I think it looks lovely.’

  Marjorie’s eyes were scanning the tent and June noticed she was wringing her hands.

  She took another slug of her drink. This was it, her chance. ‘Marjorie, there’s something I need to ask you.’

  ‘Oh no, what are the caterers doing now?’ Marjorie said, as two waiters in white uniforms placed a huge, tiered cheeseboard down on the table next to them. ‘That isn’t meant to come out until nine. It’s only eight thirty.’

  ‘Who does your son-in-law work for?’ June said.

  ‘I don’t know, some American food and beverage company. Why are they putting the cheese here, it goes on the back table. Why must everyone—’

  ‘Does he have anything to do with Cuppa Coffee?’

  ‘And the grapes are meant to be green, not red. Christ, this is a disaster, I need to speak to the catering manager.’ Marjorie started to walk off, but June grabbed her arm. Her boss looked at her in surprise. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Marjorie . . .’ June’s voice faltered. ‘Are you and Brian involved in a plot to close the library?’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘I saw Brian in the pub with Rupert. I think they were talking about bribing councillors to let someone buy the building. They mentioned you.’

  ‘That’s absolute nonsense. You and your imagination, June.’

  ‘And I saw you showing a woman round the library and she had a clipboard with a Cuppa Coffee logo on it.’ June saw Marjorie go pale. ‘How could you do it, Marjorie? I thought you loved the library.’

  ‘Of course I love the library,’ Marjorie hissed. ‘You’ve always lived in a fantasy land, but this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. That woman I showed round was a management consultant.’

  ‘Then why did she have the Cuppa Coffee logo on her clipboard?’

  ‘I don’t know – maybe it was a free gift?’

  ‘And why did she come back to secretly visit you early one morning before the library opened? What are you trying to hide, Marjorie?’

  ‘Look, Brian asked me to keep the management consultant’s visit quiet for this very reason, to stop people getting carried away with mad conspiracy theories. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s my daughter’s wedding.’ She turned to walk away again.

  June took a deep breath. ‘Are you and Brian receiving money from Rupert’s company to help them buy the library building and turn it into a Cuppa Coffee?’

  Marjorie spun round, a look of disbelief on her face. ‘Now this is outrageous!’ Her voice had risen, and several people turned to look.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Brian walked over to them. ‘People are staring at you, Marjorie.’

  ‘June here is making the most scandalous accusations. She says that you and Rupert are involved in some dodgy scam around selling off the library building. I’ve a good mind to throw her out but I don’t want to make a . . .’ Marjorie stopped talking as she saw Brian had turned a dark shade of purple.

  ‘What have you been saying?’ he said to June.

  ‘I saw you and Rupert in the pub back in July,’ June said. ‘I heard your conversation.’

  Brian gave a small, forced laugh. ‘So what? A man having a pint with his future son-in-law is hardly illegal.’

  ‘There was another man there too, and you told them you had the power to convince people on the council. They discussed giving you money.’

  ‘What’s she talking about, Brian?’ Marjorie said.

  ‘It was about the library, wasn’t it?’ June said.

  ‘This is all absolute nonsense,’ Brian said.

  June was aware that people around them had stopped talking and were listening in, but for once she didn’t care.

  ‘And what about that woman you got Marjorie to show around the library? She works for Cuppa Coffee, doesn’t she?’

  ‘You told me she was a management consultant,’ Marjorie said, taking hold of Brian’s arm. From the look on her face, June could tell she wasn’t pretending. ‘Brian, what on earth is going on?’

  ‘Oh, be quiet, dear,’ he said, brushing her off. ‘I’m not standing here listening to these lies anymore. June has no proof of anything.’

  ‘Oh my god, the money for the wedding!’ Marjorie said, her eyes wide.

  ‘Now, dear—’ Brian started, reaching for her, but Marjorie stepped away from him.

  ‘I asked you where that extra money came from to pay for all of this and you wouldn’t tell me. Brian, what have you done?’

  ‘For god’s sake, woman,’ he said. ‘You’re retiring at Christmas – what difference does it make?’

  ‘All this time you’ve been telling me to relax, that you were working behind the scenes to save the library. And you’ve been the one trying to get it closed!’

  A large group had now gathered to watch, and Brian lowered his voice to a hiss.

  ‘Look, I can’t affect the decision the council makes about the library. But if it does close, and Rupert’s company does buy the building, there’s no harm in you and I benefiting from that, is there?’ He went to put his arm around Marjorie’s shoulder, but she lurched backwards.

  ‘Get away from me!’ She made no effort to keep her voice down.

  ‘How did you expect me to pay for all of this?’ Brian said. ‘You told me you wanted this wedding to be the biggest Chalcot has ever seen. Do you have any idea how much all of this costs?’

  Marjorie looked like she was fighting back tears. ‘I’ve turned a blind eye over the years. But this . . . my library . . .’

  ‘Mum, Dad, what’s going on?’ They all turned to see Gayle approaching, wearing a long crystal-encrusted wedding dress. R
upert was following her, his eyes narrowed. ‘We can hear you all the way from the gazebo.’

  ‘It’s nothing, pumpkin, just a little disagreement,’ Brian said.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Did you know?’ Marjorie said to her.

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘About this deal between Daddy and Rupert. About the library.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Gayle’s confused expression made it clear that she had no idea either.

  ‘We should talk about this later,’ said Rupert, taking Gayle’s arm and trying to steer her away. ‘Right now, I’d like a dance with my new wife.’

  ‘They’ve been plotting to get the library closed so Rupert’s company can open a coffee shop there. All of this’ – Marjorie indicated around them – ‘has been paid for by dirty money your father got from Cuppa Coffee.’

  ‘What? Dad, is this true?’ Gayle said.

  ‘Look, let’s all talk about this tomorrow, shall we?’ Brian said. ‘I think your mother is getting a little worked up, it’s been a very exciting day for her.’

  Gayle nodded, but she was still frowning.

  ‘Honestly, Marjorie, stop making such a fuss,’ Brian said, shaking his head as he started to walk away. ‘It’s only a little library, you don’t need to . . .’

  ‘A little library!’ Marjorie roared, with such force that everyone stopped. ‘I’ve worked at that library for thirty years, dedicated my life to it. And you dismiss it like that means nothing. You lying, cheating . . .’

  June wanted to turn and walk away but it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. Marjorie started to cast around her wildly. It wasn’t clear to June what she was looking for, until she saw Marjorie’s eyes fall on the giant cheeseboard on the table behind her. Marjorie reached out and for a moment June thought she was going to grab one of the cheese knives. But instead she lifted up a large wheel of Brie, the biggest June had ever seen, and spinning back round, she slung the cheese with all her might at Brian’s head.

  ‘Stop!’ June shouted, but it was too late as the white disc flew through the air, spinning two or three times before it hit Brian in the face. He staggered backwards and fell against Gayle, who in turn started to topple over. Rupert reached out to grab her and the three of them collapsed onto the marquee floor. There was a moment of agonising silence.

  ‘We should go,’ Alex whispered into June’s ear. She stared for a moment longer at the scene in front of her: at Gayle in a heap of ivory silk and lace, Brian’s Brie-smeared face, and Marjorie, her whole body shaking with rage.

  June opened her mouth to say something, but she felt Alex take her hand, pulling her backwards into the crowd, and she turned and followed him. As June walked away she heard Gayle shout, ‘How could you do this to me? On my wedding day!’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  THEY DROVE AWAY FROM the wedding as fast as they could, Alex’s car bumping along the country lanes, the headlights startling rabbits in the dark. June’s head was spinning from all the alcohol and she felt sick. She’d never meant to create a scene like that. Poor Marjorie – she’d been planning today for years and June had brought the whole thing tumbling down.

  ‘Was that woman your boss?’ Alex asked, as they reached the outskirts of Chalcot.

  June nodded.

  ‘God, I hadn’t realised that was her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window to try to stop the dizziness. She really shouldn’t have drunk so much.

  ‘You remember during the library occupation when I brought you guys a takeaway and no one knew who’d paid for it? Well, it was her.’

  ‘What?’ June opened her eyes and looked at Alex. ‘Marjorie ordered the food?’

  ‘She came into the takeaway in the afternoon and paid by cash. I didn’t recognise her, so I assumed she was a protester.’

  ‘Oh no!’ June put her hands up to her face. ‘All along I thought she was plotting to destroy the library, and actually she’s been secretly supporting us.’

  They pulled up outside June’s house, and Alex turned the engine off.

  ‘Are you OK? You look really pale,’ he said.

  ‘I ruined the whole wedding.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault – Brian is the one to blame.’

  ‘Also, I feel a bit sick.’

  A panicked look crossed Alex’s face. ‘Let me help you out the car.’

  He rushed around and opened June’s door. She tried to stand on her own, but dizziness washed over her and she allowed Alex to help her to the front door. She dug around in her handbag for the front door key, but she couldn’t find it.

  ‘Here, let me.’ He took the bag from her, pulled out the key and opened the door. ‘Do you want me to come in and get you some water?’

  ‘It’s fine, I’ll be fine.’ June leaned against the door frame so she wouldn’t fall over. ‘I’m sorry. Forgot to eat.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’

  He gave June a look of such kindness that she felt her breath catch. What would she have done without Alex tonight? In fact, what would she have done without Alex for the past two months? June remembered Stanley’s words during the occupation, something about opportunities and seizing them.

  ‘I should get home,’ Alex said. He leaned towards June to give her a goodbye hug and, as he did, she moved forwards as well. Their lips crashed against each other, knocking front teeth. June took hold of his shoulders to steady herself, closed her eyes and waited for the kiss.

  But nothing happened.

  When she opened her eyes again, Alex was staring at her with a look of complete and utter terror.

  ‘I . . . I’d better go,’ he said, backing away.

  ‘Alex—’

  ‘See you soon.’

  He was at the car door, yanking it open and jumping in. June heard the engine rev and the car pulled away. She stood on the doorstep and watched him go.

  When he reached the corner and disappeared out of sight, June bent over and was sick in the flowerbed.

  *

  June opened her eyes and closed them again. She lay in her self-imposed darkness and assessed the damage. Her head was pounding, and her mouth tasted acidic. She reached down and felt the fabric of her dress, which meant she must have passed out fully clothed. Fragments of last night replayed across her mind: Marjorie shouting, Gayle’s expression, the ripe Brie flying through the air like a discus. June let out a moan and buried her head in the pillow. She lay like that until nature’s call became too strong and she had to get up.

  In the bathroom she stared at herself in the mirror: mascara smeared round her eyes, her skin deathly white. She swallowed two paracetamol and made her way back to the bedroom, passing Alan Bennett on the landing.

  ‘What have I done?’ she said to him, but he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. June got back into bed and pulled the duvet over her head.

  When she woke up again her headache had receded. She reached for her phone to check the time and saw four missed calls from Alex. At the sight of his name, June had a sudden flashback – her drunken attempt at a kiss, his look of horror as he backed away – and felt shame burn through her body. How could she have been so stupid? Stanley had been wrong – of course Alex didn’t have a soft spot for her. And he had a girlfriend, for god’s sake! June threw her phone on the floor in disgust and closed her eyes, but the image of his shocked face was burnt onto her retina.

  June dozed on and off for the rest of the day, waking in blissful ignorance before she remembered and the pain came flooding back. What had happened at the wedding after she’d left? Had Gayle and Rupert spent the rest of their evening in newly wedded bliss? Or had they ended up having a huge argument, with screaming and tears and the guests leaving early, gossiping in hushed voices about it being the worst wedding they’d ever been to? And what about poor Marjorie? All this time June had spent convinced that woman was out to destroy the library, when all alon
g her boss had had no idea what her husband was doing. June put her head under the pillow and willed herself back to sleep.

  She was woken by the sound of the doorbell. It was dark, the only light coming from the street lamp outside her bedroom window. Who the hell could it be at this time of night? June rolled over and closed her eyes, but there it was again, the incessant ring. She reached for her phone where she’d discarded it under the bed this morning. There were six missed calls from Alex and one text message. PLEASE CALL ME ASAP. With a sinking feeling June got up, pulled on her dressing gown and hurried downstairs. She opened the front door to see Alex standing on the doorstep.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ June blurted out before he could speak. ‘I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.’

  ‘June—’

  ‘I’m so embarrassed. It was the alcohol, I didn’t know what I was doing. I know you don’t see me like that.’

  ‘June—’

  ‘Please can we forget it ever happened?’

  ‘June. It’s Stanley.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘I’m so sorry. Stanley . . . he’s dead.’

  Chapter Thirty

  THEY SAT AT THE KITCHEN table drinking mugs of sugary tea while June listened to what Alex told her. Found in his caravan by a dog walker. The police think a couple of days. An image came into her head of Stanley lying alone on that narrow single bed, waiting to be discovered, and she had to put a hand over her mouth to stop a sob escaping.

  ‘Inspector Parks came into the takeaway to tell me,’ Alex said. ‘They’re going to do a post-mortem, but they don’t think it was anything suspicious.’

  June shivered and pulled her dressing gown around her shoulders. ‘I should have seen that he was unwell. I should have been a better friend.’

  ‘There’s nothing you could have done.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ She looked at Alex. ‘I knew he was living alone in that caravan, Alex. I found out after the library occupation, but I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I did nothing about it. Perhaps if I’d contacted social services or—’

  ‘June, stop,’ Alex interrupted. ‘You can’t beat yourself up about that. I knew about his living arrangements too.’