The Telephone Box Library

by Lucas, Rachael

  ‘I thought you wanted it knocked down,’ said Henry, loudly.

  Helen shot him a disapproving look.

  ‘D’you want a drink?’ Mel handed Lucy a silver hip flask. ‘Knowing Helen, this could go on for some time.’ Lucy took a sip and passed it on to Sam. He was standing close by her side again, just like the bonfire night, clad in a thick flannel shirt. He had a black woollen hat pulled down over his dark hair, and his collar turned up. Lucy, who had dressed more for the event than the weather in a navy wrap dress and a pair of tights and boots, shivered in her thin coat.

  ‘Do you want my jacket?’ Sam turned to her, his voice low.

  ‘Better not,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t think I’d be very popular if I helped Bunty cut the ribbon wearing a lumberjack shirt. Can’t let the side down,’ she added, imitating Helen’s plummy tones.

  He gave a snort of laughter, earning them a glare from one of Helen’s minions.

  Lucy realized that she’d better be standing by Bunty just in case she needed a hand, so squeezed through the little crowd of villagers. Bunty turned to her and gave her a brief smile of welcome.

  ‘. . . and so, as the oldest resident of the village . . .’

  Bunty gave a look of such horrified disgust that Lucy had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop herself from snorting with laughter.

  ‘ . . . we thought it only appropriate that Bunty, who has seen the telephone box every day from her cottage window, and who – like all of us – has her own memories of meeting friends and making calls from it . . .’

  Bunty slid a glance at Lucy that made her smile. Only they knew the secret of what the phone box meant to her, and the memories it held.

  ‘Oh get on with it, I’m blooming freezing,’ shouted a voice from the crowd, and everyone started to laugh.

  The snow was getting heavier now, swirling through the air, covering the top of the wooden bench Sam had made to sit outside the phone box.

  Bunty took the scissors, and Lucy held the ribbon firmly. With one swish, she cut it in half.

  ‘I now declare our telephone box library open,’ she said loudly. ‘And rather than droning on, I’d like to say just a few words of thanks. First of all, to Lucy. She’s been an absolute gem, and I’m sure that everyone will agree she’s been a wonderful addition to the village. So I’m delighted to say that she’s decided to stay with us permanently.’

  Lucy looked at her feet, almost afraid to see what the reactions from the people she cared about would be. It took a split second for Bunty’s words to sink in, and then both Mel and Freya gave a whoop of delight. Lucy looked over at them. Mel was doing a vigorous fist-pump and Freya was beaming from ear to ear. She couldn’t see Sam – she craned her neck discreetly, trying to spot him.

  ‘Watching everyone pull together to turn the telephone box from an eyesore into a place where the community can gather and share something that means so much – the love of books – means a great deal to me, especially at a time when we’re losing libraries all over the country,’ Bunty continued.

  Helen shot Lucy a look of alarm. The local reporter’s ears pricked up as he scented an angle for his story.

  ‘While free libraries like this are a wonderful boon to little villages like ours,’ she carried on, ‘it is a terrible shame that we are losing them in towns like Bletchingham. They are not just a place to borrow books, but a hub of the community, and somewhere people can get together and meet.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said a man in a flat cap and a long overcoat.

  ‘I’d like to end this little speech by saying thank you to Freya here . . .’

  Mel gave Freya a shove forward so that she was visible to everyone in the crowd, absolutely scarlet with teenage embarrassment. Bunty reached out her hand, and Freya took it and stood beside her, smiling shyly.

  ‘She was the person who had the idea in the first place, and I think we can all agree that it’s been a very good one.’

  There was a cheer, and the photographer insisted on including Lucy and Freya in the pictures, taking several snaps of them with Bunty, standing beside the local worthies.

  ‘What Bunty said earlier – are you staying staying?’ Freya asked Lucy.

  ‘Yes, she is.’ Bunty beamed. ‘Not only do we get to keep Lucy permanently, but I get to put Margaret’s nose out of joint. She was absolutely desperate to get the cottage let out for holidaymakers.’

  ‘Dad will be pleased.’ Freya gave Lucy an arch look. Lucy ignored it.

  ‘You might not be. I’m going to be teaching you history next term.’

  ‘You what?’ Her eyes widened in surprise.

  Lucy nodded, smiling.

  Over the lunch in town, when Bunty had invited her to stay in the cottage for as long as she wanted, she’d talked about what she was hoping to do. As if the universe was working in her favour, a quick internet search had shown that the local school was looking for a history supply teacher to cover maternity leave for the following two terms.

  ‘Does that mean I have to call you Miss instead of Lucy?’

  ‘At school, it does, yes.’

  ‘I can cope with that if you’ll help me with my history homework.’ Freya grinned.

  ‘What about you? We haven’t had a chance to talk about it much. Are you glad to have your mum back in your life?’ Lucy looked at Freya. Her long eyelashes were sparkling with tiny flakes of snow. She nodded.

  ‘Yes. Well, she’s never going to be a mum sort of mum, but at least she’s not just a mystery any more.’

  ‘Are you going to be seeing her regularly?’

  She nodded. ‘No stress. I don’t want to feel like I’m being forced into some sort of new family thing, but she seems to understand that. Right now, we’re just doing days out. Maybe I’ll stay over sometime, but not until I want to. She and Dad had a chat with me about it.’

  ‘I’m glad for you.’ Lucy put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. ‘And for your dad.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think he’s quite as happy as I am,’ said Freya, airily. ‘Look.’

  Sam was standing alone, looking thoughtful.

  ‘I’ll go and say hello.’

  ‘I’m going to see if I can nick some mulled wine from the cafe without anyone noticing,’ said Freya, disappearing before Lucy had a chance to reply.

  Taking a deep breath, she headed over to Sam. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Is it true? You’re staying?’ he said, in a low voice. Snow was dusting his shoulders and clinging to the black wool of his hat. His eyes met hers and she nodded.

  ‘It’s weird. I spent all those years focusing on the job, and I didn’t take the time to actually look around and work out what it was I wanted. And I love it here.’

  He took a step towards her. Their breath was clouding in the freezing air. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it? You wanted that, and I wanted –’ He looked over at Freya, stopping mid-sentence.

  ‘You wanted Stella back?’

  ‘No!’ He shook his head emphatically. ‘I don’t think I realized that I was holding my breath, hoping maybe she’d come back and I could make everything okay.’

  ‘It doesn’t work like that,’ she said, gently.

  ‘I’m glad it doesn’t. Otherwise . . .’ He picked up her hand, taking it in his. ‘Your hands are freezing.’

  ‘All of me is freezing.’

  There was a commotion behind her and they both peered over, seeing Freya gathering the first scrapings of snow into a snowball. She looked at them with a mischievous grin and pelted it directly at Sam, hitting him on the shoulder.

  Bunty, who had been cornered by Helen, appeared, laughing, her arm tucked inside Mel’s. She took one look at them and linked her other arm in Freya’s.

  ‘Would you two hurry up and get on with it, please. I’m absolutely ice cold, and there’s going to be none of that mulled wine left.’

  ‘Yeah, get on with it, you two.’ Mel grinned.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Sam looked at Lucy, laughing.
>
  ‘You love her,’ Freya said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. ‘Now will you bloody well kiss her and then we can go inside?’

  Sam looked down at her. ‘I don’t think we’d better cross those three.’

  ‘I think you’re right.’ Lucy curled her freezing hands inside his thick coat, feeling the warmth of his body and the solid muscles of his back. His hand cupped her face, and she didn’t mind one bit the feeling of his cold fingers tangling in her hair. He brought his mouth down on hers, and Lucy knew that right here in this village she’d found home.

  By the time they looked up, the village green was empty.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed The Telephone Box Library, you’ll love revisiting the village of Little Maudley in The Village Green Bookshop. And you’ll adore Coming Up Roses, a sweet contemporary romance set in a gorgeous English village.

  About the Author

  Keep up with Rachael and get a free short story by signing up for her newsletter here.

  Rachael lives on a beautiful stretch of coastline in the north west of England with her family and two very enthusiastic spaniels. When she's not writing at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee by her side, she's out walking the dogs on the beach or in the nearby pinewoods. She's a huge Kindle fan - her ten year old self would have been over the moon to be able to carry a whole library around in her pocket - and a lover of sweet, funny, romantic, small town stories, which is exactly what she likes to write. She's a big Hallmark movie fan, wanted to be Anne of Green Gables when she was growing up, and Jo March was her literary heroine. (She still is.)

  Also by Rachael Lucas

  Auchenmor Island Series

  Sealed with a Kiss (Book 1)

  Sealed with a Christmas Kiss (Book 2)

  Wildflower Bay (Book 3)

  Little Maudley Series

  The Telephone Box Library

  The Village Green Bookshop

  Standalone Novels

  Finding Hope at Hillside Farm

  Coming Up Roses

  Coming Soon - the Applemore Bay series, set in the gorgeously romantic Scottish Highlands.

  The Winter Cottage (Book 1)

  Copyright © 2021 by Rachael Lucas

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.