The Library

by Bella Osborne

  ‘I should get going.’ In an odd way I’d liked Maggie hurting her ankle. It had given me a chance to do stuff for her. She’d done loads for me, and she had no obligation to do any of it. Dad, on the other hand, was meant to take care of me and he’d lost the plot.

  ‘You’ll soon be done with this place.’ He pointed at the school behind me.

  I turned to look; I don’t know why. I’d seen it a million times before. Every weekday morning for the last five years. It was grey and uninspiring but I wasn’t ready to leave. I looked back at Dad nodding away. He didn’t get it. He’d never get it. ‘Bye, Dad.’ I strolled past him.

  He gripped my shoulder and I stopped but didn’t look up. ‘I want you to come home, Tom.’ I shrugged my shoulder out of his grip. ‘When you’re ready,’ he added.

  I didn’t answer. I walked to the bus stop and put my earbuds in. I didn’t want to hear any more and I didn’t want to have to think about going back to live with Dad.

  *

  Maggie was manic when I got in. She’d been baking for the library sit-in. Goodness knows how many people she thought were coming but it looked good for my lunch for the rest of the week. I made her sit down while I made dinner. It was stir-fry and it was easy. Well, most things are if Maggie is giving me instructions and explaining it. I quite like cooking. Not as much as I like eating but that’s kind of like the prize for having cooked. I’ve eaten things here that I’d have turned my nose up to at home but it’s all been tasty.

  Maggie chewed a mouthful with her eyes closed. She does this quite regularly. It’s part of her meditation technique. It makes you focus on what you’re eating. I used to bolt my food down but now I do the slow-eating thing too although not as obviously. You really get to taste the flavours. Maggie says it’s the difference between taking on fuel and enjoying a meal.

  ‘Very good, Tom. You’ve cooked that a treat. If you like you could add more ginger next time.’

  ‘Dad was at the school gate.’ It kinda burst out.

  Maggie’s eyes snapped open. ‘How is he?’

  I shook my head and her expression intensified. ‘He’s all right. He’s tidied himself up a bit…’

  ‘That’s marvellous.’

  ‘He said he’s seen a doc and he’s going to quit the booze but I’m not sure he can do it.’

  ‘But that’s a start. It’s a huge thing for him to even admit he has a problem and then to realise that he needs help. It’s a big step for him.’ She nodded a lot and I stabbed at some noodles on my plate. ‘He’s making an effort, Tom. That’s a really positive thing.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘We need to make sure we support him,’ she said and carried on with her meal. She’d always said my staying here was temporary. Was she thinking good, I’ll get rid of him soon?

  I was keen to change the subject even though it had been me who had raised it. I totted up the cake boxes – six. ‘How many are you expecting tonight?’

  ‘Difficult to say but most of the local businesses have had posters up for a week. We’ve had flyers in the post office and the pub and we’re mini-bussing a few in from the nursing home.’

  I laughed. ‘Are you allowed to do that?’

  ‘It’s not against their will. Some of them don’t get out much. Poor old souls spend all their time sitting doing nothing but staring at four walls.’

  I didn’t like to point out that most wouldn’t be much older than her. ‘So their trip out is to sit in the library and stare at—’

  ‘Where they can read, chat and eat cake.’ She tapped the top of the nearest cake tin.

  ‘Is one of those lemon drizzle?’ I could feel my mouth watering at the thought of it.

  ‘It might be. Can you check on the lambs before we go?’

  ‘Sure.’ I took the things to the sink. Since Maggie had sprained her ankle I’d had a few more jobs come my way and the lambs was one of them. I didn’t say but spending time with the lambs and watching them grow was the best. I’d discovered I liked doing stuff outside – who knew?

  *

  May was a changeable month weather-wise but it was still warm as I walked down to the sheep. The grass was lush and pretty much everything around me was green. The view across the fields and down to Furrow’s Cross was something I could have looked at for hours. It made me understand why people liked looking at paintings, although I’d probably never totally get that. But with that view it made you want to stare at it. Each time I did I noticed something different. Maybe the way the fence was straight and then went all wobbly for a few sections and then back to straight again. How the trees at the bottom were in clumps of colours – dark greens, light greens and deep purply red. I should ask Maggie what sorts of trees they all are. She’d know for sure.

  I reached the lambs. They’re allowed in the field with their mothers and the other ewes now and they’re hilarious to watch. One minute they’re lying down; the next one of them will jump up and race across the field and they all follow. They run flat out until they reach the fence and then they stumble to a stop. I swear they’re having races. It’s hilarious to watch.

  I rattled the gate and they charged towards it and stared at me like I’m the one who’s behind a fence. They are so perfect and cute, like cuddly toys. I crouched and reached out to the smallest one, which I’d called Daenerys, and she nuzzled at my hand even though there was nothing there. One of the others bleated and they all leaped in the air like they’d been electrocuted and stormed off to the other side of the field. It was magic to watch.

  I don’t want to leave here – simple as.

  28

  MAGGIE

  Maggie had been fully occupied with plans for the library sit-in all day. But knowing Tom’s father was getting help had spun her off course. She was pleased for Tom and relieved for Paul. But she was so very sorry for herself. Tom had no idea but he had changed everything. He had breathed purpose into her mundane life and now she could see that slipping away. The thought of him not walking through the door at five o’clock was like a physical pain in her gut – not dissimilar to her cracked rib, which still twinged from time to time.

  They had sat in silence on the bus, both lost in their own thoughts. Today was potentially a big day for the library. Maggie had invited the local press and they’d sounded keen. She had also invited a representative from the council who seemed less so. Christine had rung four times in various stages of meltdown as she was terrified of being dismissed on the spot for aiding and abetting the anti-closure supporters. Maggie had explained countless times that if the library closed she was out of a job anyway but it didn’t seem to land with Christine. She simply wasn’t a risk taker.

  Maggie and Tom walked through the alleyway from the bus stop. Maggie saw the hooded figure up ahead and signalled to Tom, with a quick flick of her hand. It was far too warm to be wearing something like that. Tom was carrying two large bags stacked with cake boxes so there wasn’t much he could do. Maggie’s ankle was improving gradually. She could walk on it with only a slight limp but it wasn’t ready for any serious action.

  Maggie was on red alert by the time they drew level with the hooded individual. She did a comedy double take. ‘Blimey, Christine. I thought you were the bag snatcher.’ Maggie shook her head.

  Christine peeped from under her oversized hood. ‘I can’t risk being identified.’ She looked about her agitatedly. ‘Here are the keys.’ She slipped them into Maggie’s hand while scanning the alleyway. ‘I’ll be back later. But you haven’t seen me.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Maggie, pressing her lips together to stop her breaking into a grin.

  Christine slunk off. ‘Come on,’ said Maggie and she and Tom opened up and went inside. Farah and Betty soon joined them along with Betty’s husband who was one of those people who nodded a lot but never actually spoke. Together they set up the drink and cake station.

  Tom put out all the chairs and Farah had made more flyers which she scattered on the seats. ‘Have you read The Guernsey
Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society?’ he asked her.

  ‘Wow. That’s some title. And no. Any good?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s all written in letters. There’s stuff about the Second World War and… a bit of a romance.’ Tom concentrated on straightening the chairs. ‘I thought it might be your sort of read.’

  ‘Sounds it. I’ll check it out. Thanks.’

  ‘Do you, um, like lambs at all?’ he asked, scratching his head.

  ‘What? To eat?’

  ‘No. You know? To look at. In a field.’

  ‘Umm.’

  ‘I’ve got lambs,’ said Maggie, sweeping past. ‘You’re welcome anytime to come and see them. Next farm along might even have one you can feed if you fancy it.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Yeah. I’d like that,’ said Farah, pushing her hair behind her ear.

  ‘Cool,’ said Tom and he went back to adjusting the seating.

  The mini bus arrived earlier than planned but given some of the mobility issues it was a good thing as it allowed them to get all the nursing home residents inside and settled with drinks and cake. Alice was very excited to be there and kept telling everyone – repeatedly.

  Tom, Farah and Betty set to their allocated task of asking people what they liked to read and recommending something. Farah struggled a bit and kept looking to Tom for suggestions, which he was happy to give. Betty recommended sagas to everyone regardless of what they said they liked.

  Before long there was a steady stream of people through the door and the seats filled up quickly. More people arrived and it became difficult to move about, so Tom resorted to passing books around until someone kept hold of one they liked the look of.

  ‘It’s like pass the parcel,’ said one elderly lady.

  ‘Have you got any erotica,’ asked the old man next to her and got a swift elbow in the ribs. Maggie handed him Fifty Shades of Grey as she passed and he beamed at her.

  When everyone seemed settled, Maggie and the library supporters convened at the cakes. ‘No sign of the reporter,’ said Maggie running her bottom lip through her teeth. She’d been counting on some press coverage. ‘And I don’t know if the council representative is here or not.’ They all scanned the room.

  ‘What does a council representative look like?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Pompous, self-important, hates books,’ suggested Maggie, still viewing the crowd.

  Farah leaned in. ‘Him,’ she said, pointing at a balding gentleman at the back. He had a book open at the middle and was watching the people around him. ‘There’s no way he’s read that much already.’

  ‘Good spot,’ said Maggie and she zoomed in on the man like a paparazzi lens on a celebrity.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Tom, watching her go.

  ‘Good evening. Are you from the council?’ asked Maggie. The man blinked a few times and then checked his watch. ‘You are from the council aren’t you?’

  ‘Well. I’m not here officially.’

  Maggie narrowed her eyes. ‘Why not? Is this not worthy of an official council visit?’ She was calm but forceful.

  ‘I don’t have the authority to discuss this with you. Maybe I should go.’ He put the book down and looked about as if assessing his best escape route.

  ‘No, you need to stay. Would you like some cake?’ Maggie pointed to the refreshments.

  ‘No. I don’t—’

  ‘Farah. Could you bring this gentleman a coffee?’

  ‘I really should be—’

  ‘Or tea?’ Maggie fixed him with a steely stare.

  ‘Coffee,’ he said, looking like he’d been snared.

  ‘And what cake would you like? We have Victoria sponge, coffee and walnut or chocolate fudge left.’

  He looked under duress. ‘Victoria sponge.’

  Maggie looked over her shoulder at Farah and she signalled that she’d got the order with a thumbs up.

  ‘Now. Do you see the level of support we have here?’ Maggie splayed her hand out and waved it in a circular motion and the man’s eyes followed it. ‘This library is the very heart of Compton Mallow. It is essential for the elderly.’ She pointed at the nursing home residents and wished two of them hadn’t fallen asleep. She quickly moved on. ‘Some people don’t see anyone from one week to the next apart from at the library. This is a lifeline for those people. It is vital for the young. An early love of reading has been proven to affect an individual’s job prospects.’ She had no idea if this was accurate but she knew the essence of it was true. ‘Those on lower incomes rely on the library for their reading material. To deny them that is to deny them a basic human right. Whatever hurdle you put in our way we’ll clear it. Whatever is on your agenda, we’ll oppose it. In short this community needs this space and we’re prepared to fight for it every step of the way.’

  Farah appeared with the coffee and cake. ‘Ooh, thank you,’ said the man, his eyes widening at the large slice of cake.

  Maggie stared at him, awaiting a response to her impassioned speech. He seemed to become suddenly aware of her gaze. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t know what?’ asked Maggie, mild irritation obvious in her tone.

  ‘I don’t know that anything you do changes the plans.’ He munched his cake. ‘The closure date is set.’

  Maggie was flummoxed. The library door opened and in walked a scruffy-looking man with hair that was once a comb-over but was now more like a cockerel’s comb. He flattened it down. ‘Press,’ he said, checking three pockets before pulling out a credit-card-sized badge.

  ‘Excellent!’ said Maggie. ‘Come and meet Mr…’ She turned back to the man from the council who was looking more than uncomfortable.

  ‘Tilley but I’m not here in an official capacity.’

  ‘Mr Tilley is a council representative and I think it’s fair to say he’s surprised by the level of community support shown here this evening…’ began Maggie. The reporter whipped out a notebook and started to scribble as the colour drained from Mr Tilley’s face.

  *

  Maggie was thrilled with the success of the sit-in. She and Tom celebrated back at Providence Farm with cocoa and some leftover cake. The reporter had sensed a scoop and talked of tentative interest from the nationals. She suspected he’d hoped for interest from the nationals his whole career. He’d taken photographs of the library, one of the protesters, and one of a startled-looking Mr Tilley, who kept repeating that they needed to refer to the council press office and website. She hadn’t liked his insistence that the date was set for the library to close. She would challenge the council on that by phone tomorrow. But it wasn’t enough; she needed to do more – a lot more.

  ‘Do you think tonight did any good?’ asked Tom.

  Maggie pondered the question, scrunching up her eyes as she thought. ‘I truly hope so. It was a good turnout, which was a relief. I just wish those people had used the library in the first place, then we wouldn’t have to do all this.’

  ‘That council bloke didn’t seem hopeful though.’

  ‘No, but people like that think their process is king and can’t bear the thought of someone scuppering their plans. I think they’ve earmarked the building for something. Probably got a dodgy deal already in the offing. Bent buggers the lot of them.’ She seemed to be talking more to herself than Tom.

  ‘Your speech was good,’ said Tom. ‘That reporter seemed impressed with what you said. And I was too. I don’t know how you do it. I’d like to be able to say stuff in a way that makes people listen.’

  ‘It comes with age,’ she said, wisely.

  ‘I don’t want to wait that long.’ Maggie raised an eyebrow. ‘Sorry, I’m not saying you’re ancient or anything.’ He flushed crimson.

  ‘I know what you mean. You’re a good lad,’ she said briefly patting his forearm. ‘Thanks for all you’ve done over the last few days. I really do appreciate it.’

  ‘Do you still miss your son?’ Tom’s eyes were searching.

  ‘Every day,’ she said and he nodded his und
erstanding. ‘Losing someone special is like being given the perfect gift only to have it whisked away from you.’

  Tom gave her a weak smile and turned to look out of the window.

  Now that Paul seemed to be sorting himself out it wouldn’t be long before Tom returned home and got on with his life. Saying goodbye to Tom, as she knew she must, would be almost as hard as saying goodbye to River, all those years ago. She knew now exactly what she had missed out on and it had been far more than even she had imagined. Watching the small changes in Tom, seeing him grow in confidence and simply spending time with him was a privilege and one she wished she’d been able to experience with River. She made a pledge to herself that she would find something to fill the void that Tom would leave but what or whom that would be she wasn’t sure.

  29

  TOM

  I know I did crap in my French reading exam. My mind went completely blank. I think I panicked a bit because my palms went sweaty and my heart went all thumpy. I had to do a bit of meditating to calm myself down. The invigilator came over to check on me and everybody looked, which did not help at all. But after a few minutes I was okay. Maggie had said all I can do is my best and she’s right, so I looked at the words and they were kind of familiar but not enough that I could translate it completely. Instead I picked out the words I did know and made a few guesses.

  I’ve never liked French. It’s not like I’m going to visit France anytime soon. I might one day, when I’ve got a good job. Then I’d like to travel. I like the idea of a villa with its own pool. I’ve seen them on the adverts and they look impressive. I’ve never been on a plane. That’s not strictly true. I did once go somewhere with Mum and Dad that had planes in a hangar and you could sit in them for a photo but that’s not like getting on one to go on holiday. I don’t remember where it was. That trip was when Mum’s bump was huge, which couldn’t have been long before she died. I wish I could remember more about it. I wish I wasn’t forgetting her.