The Library

by Bella Osborne

  ‘Okay,’ said Maggie, a knowing look in her eye. ‘I’ll give you a shout when I’m serving up. Listen out.’ She picked up her gardener’s pad, got on the quad bike and headed back to the house.

  I moved to stand between the two pens so I could watch both lambs. The first one was already on his feet and feeding from his mother. His tail was shaking like mad. Barbara had returned to chugging down grass and seemed oblivious. I glanced back at Nancy. She was having a lie-down. I didn’t blame her after what she’d been through. The other lamb was almost all grey. It was a different sort of grey. I could see now why Maggie called them lavender lambs. I watched it feed for a bit and then noticed Nancy was tensing up, something was going on. I moved around the pen. Oh crap. No! There was another lamb coming out.

  ‘Maggie!’ I yelled in the general direction of the house. There was no way she was going to hear me if she was in the shower.

  I dashed inside the pen to join Nancy. With any luck she’d pop this one out like she had the first. I took a deep breath and lifted up the tail. There was a head and there were legs. I looked again. There were three front legs. Three? Bloody hell.

  20

  MAGGIE

  Maggie checked the tomatoes weren’t overdone under the grill and gave the scrambled eggs another stir. She let out a huge yawn. If Tom hadn’t been there she would have happily returned to her bed for a well-earned nap – she was knackered and her bones ached in protest at being out in the damp field for hours. But despite that she didn’t want to miss a moment with Tom. He was like a blood transfusion. He gave her the pep she needed to go another week on her own. She wandered to the back door and stuck her head out.

  ‘Tom! Breakfast!’ she called. She was about to retreat when a distant but panicked reply reached her.

  ‘Maggie! Help! Maggie!’

  ‘Bugger,’ said Maggie, under her breath. She dashed inside, switched off the cooker and marched out, swapping her slippers for wellies on the way.

  When she reached the field she could see Nancy was obviously in trouble and Tom looked like a stressed expectant father pacing and rubbing his hands together.

  ‘It’s got three front legs!’ he said. He dropped to his knees as if he needed to have another look to be sure. His eyes darted from Maggie’s face to Nancy’s back end.

  ‘Three front legs?’ She couldn’t stifle the laugh.

  He glared at her. ‘It has. Come round and look.’ He was genuinely distressed.

  ‘Or she’s got two more lambs in there and they’re trying to exit together.’

  Tom frowned hard. ‘Huh. Yeah… that makes more sense.’ Nancy’s breathing was off. ‘She’s not right,’ said Tom, looking anxious.

  ‘She’s not,’ agreed Maggie. She’d almost lost Nancy in a similar situation the year before and she doubted she could go through it again.

  ‘Is she going to die?’ Tom’s face broke Maggie’s heart. He looked up at her with pleading puppy dog eyes. The trouble was Maggie wasn’t one for soft-soaping a situation.

  ‘I don’t know. We can only do our best for her. The rest is up to her.’

  ‘You have to save her!’ His voice was choked but at the same time vehement.

  Maggie wondered what was driving that intensity. ‘You can save her, Tom,’ she said, her voice calm and assured.

  ‘No. No I can’t.’ She noticed a shake in his hands. ‘All yours,’ he said, getting to his feet.

  Maggie held the pen firmly shut, stopping him leaving. He gave it a shake in frustration. ‘I’m all clean,’ she said. ‘Anyway this is a good learning experience for you.’ Tom opened his mouth but Maggie didn’t give him time to protest. ‘We need to get the lambs out quickly. They’ve been stuck there too long as it is. Take hold of one leg.’ She pulled a ball of binder twine from her pocket. ‘Tie this on it.’

  Tom looked at her for a moment before accepting his fate. He took the offered twine and knelt back down next to Nancy’s tail. ‘Follow that leg all the way up to the lamb’s shoulder…’

  Tom started to do as she instructed and then halted. ‘The shoulder is inside the… the… inside Nancy.’ He looked pleadingly at Maggie.

  ‘Yep and that’s exactly where your hand is going.’ He shook his head but she noted he didn’t let go of the lamb’s front foot. ‘Up to the shoulder,’ she repeated.

  Tom swallowed hard, fixed his focus on Maggie and slid his hand up the lamb’s front leg and inside the sheep. His face crumpled in disgust. ‘Got to the head yet?’ she asked.

  There was a pause and Tom’s face was one of total concentration. ‘Yeah. There’s its head.’

  ‘Great. Over the head to the other shoulder and then slide back down the other leg. And then keep a hold of it.’

  Tom’s hand reappeared and he gave a cursory glance at it. ‘Eurgh.’

  ‘Now you know that those two legs belong to the same lamb. Tie the other end of twine onto that leg and then push that third leg back inside out of the way. He’ll have to wait his turn.’

  This time Tom didn’t protest and returned his hand to the sheep.

  ‘You’re a pro now,’ said Maggie, watching progress closely. ‘That’s it – pull the lamb out the same as you did with Barbara.’

  Tom did as Maggie instructed and within minutes two more lambs had joined Nancy and baby number one in the pen. While Nancy washed the two new ones, the first one started to feed.

  ‘Right, Tom. Here’s the thing. One ewe, two teats to feed from and three lambs. You do the maths.’

  ‘She can’t feed three.’

  ‘No. But Barbara here only has one lamb.’

  Tom grinned. ‘Great. We get Barbara to adopt one.’

  ‘Not that easy. She needs to think it’s hers.’

  ‘How do we do that?’

  Maggie pulled a face. ‘You’re not going to like it but it’s for a good cause.’

  Maggie explained to Tom that if he shoved his hand inside Barbara, made a fist and pulled it out there was a small chance she would believe she had given birth again and that the extra lamb was hers. After a small amount of protest Tom conceded defeat and got in the pen with Barbara. Maggie moved the hurdle up against Barbara to hem her in and kept her busy at her front end with a handful of sheep nuts while Tom braced himself for the job at the business end.

  He closed his eyes, made some noises like a wrestler and thrust his hand where no hand should go. Maggie dashed around to the other pen, swiped Nancy’s spare lamb and brushed him over with straw Barbara’s lamb had been lying on before setting him down. Barbara was surprisingly unfazed by Tom’s assault until he made a fist and pulled his hand back out when she bleated her displeasure. Maggie shifted the hurdle back to its original position, to give the sheep room to move. When Barbara turned around Nancy’s lamb was lying in the straw behind her. Barbara dutifully went to it. She paused for a second to sniff it and Maggie and Tom held their breath until she began to wash it.

  ‘Yes!’ said Tom, punching the air.

  ‘Well done, Tom,’ said Maggie, letting him out of the pen. She was proud of how he’d galvanised himself and got on with the task. ‘That isn’t the nicest of jobs and to be honest it rarely works.’ They watched the two ewes with their “twin” lambs.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Tom. ‘Once you get over how gross it is, it’s actually quite warm in there.’ He looked surprised at his own words and they both laughed.

  Back in the house Maggie directed Tom to the shower and left out clean towels and some clothes for him while she salvaged what she could of breakfast. He appeared in the kitchen adjusting a long-sleeved top with a fashion logo emblazoned across the chest.

  ‘That fits you okay,’ she said, putting the plates on the table.

  ‘It’s well nice,’ said Tom. ‘Were these your son’s?’ He put the rest of the clothes selection she’d left out for him on the spare kitchen chair.

  Maggie seemed to baulk at the question. ‘Ah. No, I got those for you.’

  Tom looked puzzl
ed as he sat down and reached for the ketchup. ‘What, to keep?’

  ‘I was in Leamington and they have the best-stocked charity shops there. Don’t worry, I’ve washed it all. I wanted to replace the top you tore when you were mending the henhouse but I got a bit carried away. It was nice to have someone to buy for and at those prices…’ Maggie was aware she was doing a justification dance so she stopped. ‘Anyway, it’s all yours if it fits.’

  Tom eyed the stack of things he’d brought down. ‘Even the Adidas sweats?’

  ‘Yes, whatever they are,’ said Maggie, with a chuckle. ‘The lady behind the counter picked out things she said her grandson would wear. He’s into labels.’

  Tom’s grin was fixed. ‘Brilliant. Thanks, Maggie.’ He paused between mouthfuls and a look passed between them.

  ‘Come on, eat up before it gets cold,’ said Maggie, breaking eye contact and marvelling at the warm glow inside her fuelled by Tom’s gratitude.

  *

  While Tom’s original clothes were in the washing machine Maggie set about making the cake she’d planned to bake before Tom arrived. ‘What shall I do?’ asked Tom, looking about as if seeking inspiration.

  ‘I can show you how to make a lemon drizzle cake if you like?’

  He snorted a laugh but on seeing Maggie’s serious expression he pouted as he appeared to consider her offer. ‘Sure, why not?’

  She opened a drawer and handed him a clean apron, which she had to tie for him.

  He looked down at the dancing sheep on the front. ‘You must never ever tell anyone about this.’

  She tried to keep a straight face. ‘My lips are sealed.’

  He was a good student and he listened while she walked him through the process. ‘Why don’t you have a recipe?’

  ‘Don’t need one,’ said Maggie, tapping the side of her head and smearing flour on her temple.

  Tom smiled at her. ‘Can you write it out for me?’

  Maggie gave him a sideways look. ‘You’re going to bake on your own at home?’

  He shrugged. ‘You never know. I might.’ He gave the contents of the bowl a good beating as instructed.

  Before long they were sat back with their respective drinks waiting for the kitchen timer to ping.

  ‘You should be proud of what you did birthing those lambs this morning,’ she said, taking a sip of the tea he’d made her.

  ‘Nah. I panicked. I was useless until you came and told me what to do.’

  ‘You’d have worked it out.’

  ‘I doubt it. I was scared.’ His head dropped to his chest and Maggie waited a moment. He was lost in the no man’s land between the child he was and the man he so longed to be. There was something more than stuck lambs going on. If he wanted to tell her, he would. She’d not go forcing it out of him.

  Tom sighed and poured himself another glass of Coke. ‘You’ll think it’s daft,’ he said with a self-deprecating smile.

  ‘I’m sure I won’t.’

  Tom held his glass in two hands and turned it slowly, his eyes focused upon the liquid swirling gently inside. ‘My mum died having a baby…’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tom,’ she said. It was all she could do not to scoop him into her arms and hold him. The poor mite, what must he have been through? The thought of it brought a lump to her throat.

  He tipped his head back as if willing tears not to fall. ‘The baby got stuck and she had some sort of fit.’

  ‘Eclampsia?’ offered Maggie.

  ‘I dunno,’ said Tom. He glanced at Maggie, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. ‘I was at my grandparents’ and Dad was at work.’ Tom took his time. ‘Dad should have been at home but he had taken some overtime. There was lots of whispering when Dad came to collect me. I remember being really excited because they’d promised me this Lego set when the baby arrived.’ He turned to look at Maggie. ‘Dad’s face when he came in.’ He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the memory. ‘He looked broken.’

  ‘How awful.’ Maggie’s heart ached for both of them and what they had lost.

  ‘When Dad told me about Mum and the baby I remember worrying that I might not get my Lego set. How twisted is that?’ Tom’s young face changed to resemble someone much older and more weather-beaten by life.

  ‘We often think of the oddest, most irrelevant things, at difficult times. We seek out the little things we can cope with while we process the things we can’t.’

  ‘I guess,’ he said.

  They sat in silence for a while both lost in their own thoughts until the kitchen timer rang and brought them both back to the present.

  21

  TOM

  The last two weeks have gone uber quick. I’ve been trying to revise but I don’t think it’s going into my thick head. GCSEs are only a couple of weeks away now and it all feels a bit real. Mr Thackery was telling us we needed to have a healthy meal and a good night’s sleep before exams. Dad and I are still on the beans and fish fingers diet. Dad’s quite happy. He’s counting down to my last GCSE. He’s more excited about me finishing my exams than I am. That’s because he thinks I’m going to get an apprenticeship at the factory. I’m not but I’ve not managed to tell him yet. It’s too hard.

  ‘All right?’ I said as I stuck my head around the living room door. The place remained a mess but the smell had improved.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. He’d got a bottle of whisky on the table. I left him to it. I got changed into one of the tops Maggie had got me. They all fitted, although a couple were a bit big. I don’t usually change after school but then I don’t usually have something worth changing into. It’s a pale blue Superdry top and I can’t stop looking at myself in the mirror. Glad nobody can see me. I might wear it for the next Save The Library meeting.

  After some revision and a mild panic, because I realised I didn’t know as much about World War One as I thought I did, I went downstairs to get a drink. I looked in on Dad. He hadn’t moved from the sofa and was staring at the TV. For once the TV wasn’t on.

  ‘You sure you’re okay?’ I asked.

  He turned slowly to look at me. ‘The car’s failed its MOT.’

  ‘Right.’ I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  ‘That’s it. I can’t afford to get it fixed. We have no car.’

  I couldn’t see how it was going to affect me so decided not to say anything about it. ‘You want a coffee?’

  Dad frowned. ‘Is that another new top?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I stood up straight to show it off.

  ‘Where from?’

  ‘My mate’s mum.’ I’d not yet owned up about Maggie.

  ‘She just gave them to you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Dad’s expression changed from one of scrutiny to alarm. ‘You know two people have been mugged?’

  ‘Err. No.’ I knew about Maggie, obviously, but I didn’t know if she was one of the two he was talking about.

  ‘Old ladies in the village just after it gets dark. Police are looking for a tall skinny youth.’

  We looked at each other. I could feel my neck heating up. ‘Did you want a coffee?’

  ‘Hang on, Tom. What’s going on? What are you not telling me?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I might have been too quick to respond but I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. He knew I was hiding something.

  ‘Bloody hell. It’s you isn’t it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The muggings. Oh, Tom. Why?’

  ‘No, Dad!’ What the hell? How had he jumped to that conclusion?

  ‘Don’t deny it. All the extra cash and now the new trendy clothes. Why you little…’

  I dodged out of the way as he made a lunge. He’d clearly caught up on his drinking today. ‘Dad. You’ve got this all wrong.’ I backed away as he staggered to his feet. Anger and injustice bubbled in my gut.

  ‘Don’t LIE!’ he shouted and spit flew in my direction. I was angry at being accused but he was in a proper rage.

  ‘It wasn’t me!’ I yelled back at
him. I grabbed my jacket and keys, stormed out of the house and slammed the door.

  I was furious with him. When had I ever done anything out of line? Never. Okay, maybe a few things but nothing criminal. He didn’t know me at all. I must have been walking fast because I was in the village in no time. I walked round to the library but I was too fuming to go in. I didn’t want a dull natter with Christine. I wanted to rant and for someone to listen.

  I spun around on the spot – I had nowhere to go. I strode off out of the village towards town. I figured eventually the temper would ease and I’d be able to slow down. I was quite a way before my legs started to return to a normal pace. As the anger ebbed away it was replaced with hurt. How could Dad think such a thing? Even after all that alcohol, surely he should know I’m not capable of mugging someone. And little old ladies too. Jeez.

  As the fight went out of me, I wondered how long I could stay out. If Dad carried on drinking he’d pass out in a couple of hours. It was a long time to kill. I’d left my phone behind and I had no money. I was meant to be revising. Missing out on studying annoyed me more than I thought it would. I was turning into a proper geek. I needed to do well in my exams, I needed to show Dad I was better than the factory job. But I wouldn’t be revising tonight because all my stuff was in my room. And now I’d walked in circles I was hungry too. This was a mess. I could feel tears behind my eyes so I clamped my jaw shut to try to keep them in check.

  It started to rain. Bloody typical. Good job I’d got my jacket. Maybe I would go to the library after all. At least I’d be dry there even if I’d have to pretend to be interested in Christine. I could even google some stuff. I turned around sharply and almost knocked into someone coming out of their gate.

  ‘Tom. Hi. I thought it was you,’ said Farah, with her trademark smile. All feminine and alluring, with a hint of mischief – bloody hell, maybe I had been reading too much romance lately.

  ‘Hey. You all right?’ It was hard to make eye contact today. I was exhausted.

  ‘Yeah. You?’

  I nodded and then changed my mind. ‘No. A bit crap actually.’