The Library

by Bella Osborne

  I know kids in my year who go on two foreign holidays a year. Two! And they talk about it like it’s completely normal. This kid, Malachy, his parents have a holiday home in Spain and sometimes he goes just for the weekend – how mad is that? I even heard him moaning about it once because he was missing go-carting. I’d have liked to have had that call to make – go-carting or Spain? Actually it was a tough decision but I would definitely choose Spain.

  Dad wasn’t waiting for me after school. I’m more cautious now. I have a good check out of the window before I leave. I’m not sure how we’ve left things, me and Dad. It’s all awkward like we’re strangers but we’re the only family we each have. Maggie said I should go and see him and give him some encouragement with the quitting the booze thing. I know she’s right but I’m in the middle of my exams and I don’t see him encouraging me. I said I might go after school on Friday. Maybe.

  Maggie was back to the yoga. She reckoned it was helping her heal, and she was in a lotus headstand when I walked in. I sat down opposite her and crossed my legs. I can do that easily now – I’m getting more flexible. I think my arms are a bit more muscly because I chop the wood and carry the water buckets down to the animals. Not the same as if I’d been to the gym or anything but not as weedy as they were before.

  ‘How was French?’ she asked, her eyes popping open for a second but she held the pose.

  ‘Cr… Rubbish.’ I don’t like swearing in front of her. It seems disrespectful. She’s never said I can’t or anything and she swears but somehow it feels wrong.

  ‘Well, you don’t need French for your A levels. So forget about it now. You can’t do any more on that one.’ Maggie had helped me work out what to focus on. She’d basically asked me what I was best at and what subjects I wanted to do at A level. Turns out they’re the same thing. For my GCSEs I’m concentrating on English and maths because I have to have those plus my A level subjects: English literature, history and chemistry. Maggie thinks it’s a good mix. ‘What’s next?’ she asked.

  ‘English lit.’

  ‘Ah. Is that what Farah’s coming round on Sunday to study?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I’m really looking forward to Farah coming over. I can’t wait to show her the lambs.

  ‘She’s a lovely girl.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Maggie’s lips are curling at the edges like she’s trying hard not to smile but can’t stop herself. It looks weird when someone smiles and they’re upside down. ‘You like her don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I smiled at my own limited vocabulary and at the thought of Farah. ‘She’s awesome.’

  ‘You’ve got a good friend there,’ said Maggie, and I felt the smile melt from my face. Friend. She was right. Farah was my friend but I didn’t want it to stop there.

  *

  When I came down for breakfast on Friday morning the kitchen smelled like heaven. Or at least what my heaven would smell like – cake with a hint of bacon. Not bacon cake – that would be gross. Maggie was grilling bacon and she had not long taken a cake out of the oven. I went over to investigate and have a better sniff.

  ‘Hands off,’ said Maggie, shooing me away from the cake and moving the bacon onto plates already laden with fluffy scrambled eggs. ‘That cake’s for your dad.’

  ‘Why?’ I took my plate from Maggie and joined her at the table.

  ‘You said you were calling in on him after school and I thought he might like a lemon drizzle cake. And there’s extra money for the bus to save you walking like last time.’ She pushed a five-pound note across the table.

  ‘I said I might call in.’ I ran a finger over the money but didn’t pick it up.

  ‘Oh, well. It’s up to you. The cake’s there if you want to take it.’ There was never any pressure from Maggie although she did know how to make me think about stuff. She’d gone to the trouble of making a cake, and getting the bus would be way easier than walking. I guess I could drop it round. I’d think about it. I took the money and shoved it in my trouser pocket and I could see her twitching a smile.

  ‘Thanks for making the cake. I don’t know if it’ll survive a whole day in my bag.’ I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist picking bits off it. It would likely be a mass of crumbs by the time I got to Dad’s, assuming I went at all.

  ‘I made two. There’s a good-sized slice with your packed lunch.’ She knew me so well. ‘I’m thinking of cooking lamb on Sunday.’ She said it all casual and I dropped my knife in shock. It clattered against my plate.

  ‘Which one?’ I could barely squeak the words out.

  Maggie started to laugh and I had to wait for her to catch her breath. It was horrible. I loved all the lambs. I could picture one of them being turned on a big spit over a fire like they used to do in Tudor times. I felt a bit sick.

  ‘Not one of our lambs you daft ha’p’orth.’ She was still chuckling. ‘They’re far too small. I’ve got some in the freezer. I’ll roast a nice leg. All right?’

  All right? I wasn’t sure that I was. For the first time in my life I sort of wanted to be a vegetarian. I took a breath, looked back at the crispy bacon on my plate. I breathed in the smell. I picked my knife and fork back up and the thought of becoming a vegetarian vanished.

  *

  The curtains were open when I walked up the path at Dad’s. I got my key out but the images of him unconscious rushed into my mind. I put the key away and knocked instead. We did have a doorbell but the batteries had run out ages ago and we hadn’t replaced them.

  Dad was frowning when he opened the door but it evaporated when he saw me. ‘Tom. Great to see you. Come in,’ he said, reversing out of the way. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘I’m not stopping.’

  ‘Oh, right. Well, come in anyway.’ He went through to the kitchen. I followed but had a shufti into the living room as I passed. There were no empty bottles that I could see.

  He leaned back against the worktop and looked at me. I put my bag down and stared at the floor. This was well weird. I was starting to heat up. The silence filled the room, sucking the air from it.

  At last he spoke and I was so relieved. ‘I’ve been to my first AA meeting,’ he said. He sounded unsure.

  ‘How was it?’

  ‘Yeah. Okay. I don’t know what I was expecting but they were all ordinary people. Nice people. We just chatted and listened. It was a bit strange at first but I’ll go again.’

  ‘That’s good.’ I wanted to ask if he’d stopped drinking but looking at him he seemed different. His skin was a normal colour and the dark rings under his eyes weren’t as bad as before. His hair was washed and he was keeping up with the shaving.

  ‘My counsellor suggested you and I have a chat about how you felt… you know. About my drinking.’

  I didn’t know what to say. I feared if I started to tell him, I’d end up shouting at him. I shrugged instead.

  ‘How did it make you feel, Tom?’

  One word shot into my mind. ‘Shit.’ I think that summed it up quite well.

  ‘Right.’ Dad nodded. He was no more equipped for this conversation than I was.

  I remembered the cake and it felt like a lifeline. I hurriedly got it out of my bag. It was still intact. Maggie would be proud of me. ‘Here. Maggie made it.’ I handed it over.

  Dad looked at the brown paper package like I’d handed him a hand grenade with no pin. ‘Thanks, I guess.’

  ‘You guess?’ How rude was that? ‘It’s lemon drizzle cake.’ The words sounded like an accusation. ‘It’s exactly like Mum used to make.’ This was no good. I was getting cross. I was always going to be angry with him. I snatched up my bag. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Why?’

  I stopped and looked at him. He was clutching the cake and his face was a mix of sadness and confusion.

  ‘Because there’s stuff I have to do. There’s lambs, sheep, chickens – they all need taking care of. And Maggie needs me.’

  ‘Sounds like free labour to me.’

  I stea
died my breathing. ‘I want to do it. And I’m staying there for free. So it’s all fair.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, thank her for the cake.’ He held it up. I nodded and turned to go. ‘When will I see you next, Tom?’

  I froze in the doorway. ‘I dunno.’ And I honestly didn’t.

  30

  MAGGIE

  Maggie held the letter in her hand. She’d written and rewritten it many times and still wasn’t sure it was right but this felt like a now or never moment. She looked at the gaping mouth of the post box. Once she put it inside that was it. She was triggering something that couldn’t be undone. Her hand hovered close to the slot. Could she post it? Should she? Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the local gossip striding her way and Maggie quickly posted the letter, feeling a flutter in her heart as she did so. That was it; there was no going back now.

  Maggie walked back up the hill away from Furrow’s Cross. She had an instant sense of remorse. Would she regret what she had just done? Or could it be a key turning point in her life? All she could do now was wait and see. It felt like she’d been waiting most of her life. Biding her time for when she had a chance to put things right. But whether she would ever get that opportunity did not rest in her hands.

  Maggie was further up the hill when she spotted Tom’s bus and it lifted her mood. She watched Tom get off the bus, his posture giving away his mood as it frequently did. Slouched shoulders was not a good sign.

  ‘Tom!’ she called and he twisted in her direction, his features brightening momentarily.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked when she reached him.

  ‘I’m fine. How about you?’

  He puffed out a breath. ‘I went to see Dad. He says thanks for the cake.’

  ‘He’s very welcome. And how is he?’ she asked as they began the stroll up the track to Providence Farm.

  ‘He’s tidied himself up a bit and the house.’

  ‘That’s an excellent sign.’

  Tom nodded but his pouting lips implied he wasn’t that convinced. ‘He asked me how I felt about it. His drinking.’

  ‘Did you tell him how you felt?’

  ‘Not really.’ He gave a brief glance in her direction.

  ‘And how do you feel, Tom?’ she asked.

  He lifted his head. ‘I hate him when he drinks. I couldn’t tell him that.’

  ‘Maybe you should. If it’s honestly how it made you feel.’

  Tom’s eyes widened. ‘It’s a bit brutal though.’

  ‘Maybe. But if you’re both honest with each other I think that’s a very good place to start.’ Maggie was preparing herself for a similar conversation in the future.

  As they neared the house an estate car was coming down the track. The driver waved at Maggie and turned down the side of her house. ‘Now what does he want?’ said Maggie, under her breath.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Local vet. Nice guy but usually costs me money when I see him…’ She turned her attention to the car’s driver. ‘Gregory. To what do I owe the pleasure?’

  ‘Fraser Savage has been trying to get hold of you.’

  Maggie spotted Savage’s dog, Rusty, in the back of the car. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Difficult labour,’ he said getting out of the car and walking around to the other side. ‘She’s lost a lot of blood. I’m taking her in to the surgery to put her on a drip and keep an eye on her for twenty-four hours.’ He opened the passenger door and leaned in.

  ‘Did she have the puppies yet?’ asked Tom, peering into the back of the car.

  ‘Only these two survived I’m afraid,’ said Gregory, reversing out of the passenger side with a small crate. ‘Savage is too busy with the lambs to take care of them so I was taking the pups in too but he was calling you to see if you’d be able to look after—’

  ‘Ye-ah!’ said Tom, racing around to join the vet. ‘Of course we will. Won’t we, Maggie?’ His eyes were bigger than a pleading puppy’s.

  Maggie shook her head. ‘They need feeding round the clock. Every four—’

  ‘Two to three hours,’ interrupted the vet.

  ‘But that’s not a problem.’ Tom was already peeling back the jumper that was covering them. ‘Oh wow. Maggie, you’ve got to see these. They’re the cutest.’ Tom’s face was a picture. ‘We’ll help. Won’t we?’ There were the puppy dog eyes again.

  ‘We’d need formula and puppy pads,’ said Maggie.

  ‘I’ve got enough formula for one feed in my bag but I can get one of the nurses to pop some more over on her way home tonight. As well as some puppy pads,’ said the vet. Maggie pressed her lips together.

  ‘Pleeeease,’ said Tom, sounding a lot younger than his years.

  It felt like a conspiracy to Maggie. ‘Twenty-four hours only.’ She pointed at Tom and then the vet, shook her head and went inside, leaving Tom to bring in the puppies and a bundle of things from the vet. She had spent her life trying to avoid getting attached to things and she wasn’t about to start now, although looking at Tom she realised perhaps she was making that oath a fraction too late.

  It wasn’t cold but the puppies needed to be kept warm so Maggie made them a hot water bottle and dug out some old newspapers to put down.

  ‘They need the fire on and something cosy like a blanket to lie on – not that,’ said Tom, hugging the crate protectively.

  ‘They’re hours old, Tom. I thought a warm hot water bottle might be a bit more like being near their mother.’

  ‘Okay. But newspaper.’ He wrinkled his nose.

  ‘All they’re going to do is wee and poo and they’re not doing it all over any blanket of mine. That old jumper of Savage’s will do fine. Let’s have a look at them.’

  Tom gingerly handed over the crate. The puppies were like miniature versions of Rusty and Mac – one red merle and one black and white, both with pink noses. ‘I bet Savage is sorry to have lost the others. They fetch a pretty penny these do.’

  ‘How much?’ asked Tom, going almost nose to nose with them.

  ‘About a thousand pounds a pop I think.’

  ‘Wow.’ Tom whistled through his teeth and his shoulders dropped. Maggie had feared he’d been harbouring thoughts of having one. What boy doesn’t want a dog of his own?

  ‘Dogs are a huge responsibility and a tie. Food and vet’s bills are expensive. And you can’t leave them for hours on end. They’re a pack animal and they need other dogs or people. They need training and a border collie has to be kept busy and active. They’re super intelligent and want a lot of exercise.’ Maggie feared Tom’s shoulders were drooping further. ‘Still, they’re your responsibility for the next twenty-four hours.’ She handed back the crate.

  ‘What? You’re helping though? Right?’

  ‘It’s Saturday tomorrow; you’ve no school. I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ said Maggie. ‘I’ll get the dinner on.’

  *

  Tom ate his meal on a tray in the sitting room watching the puppies. He was nothing if not dedicated. Maggie saw it as a good opportunity for Tom. She was on hand if there were any issues but having responsibility for something so dependent would likely do him good. He followed the formula instructions meticulously, drew up the required amount into the syringe and promptly squirted half of it over the first pup.

  ‘Crap!’ said Tom. Maggie stifled a chuckle.

  ‘You need to hold the puppy still.’

  ‘He’s too wriggly,’ said Tom, trying to balance the puppy on his knee.

  ‘Here,’ said Maggie taking the syringe and refilling it. ‘You hold the puppy and I’ll show you how to gently squeeze the syringe.’

  Tom cupped the black and white wriggling creature carefully in his hands, his face full of awe as it fed. Tom swapped him for the other one after settling the first back in the jumper. ‘I’ll hold her. You do the feeding, this time,’ instructed Maggie.

  This one was a little more lively and whimpered the whole time she was feeding. Maggie suspected she was hungry. The puppy foug
ht for the syringe and kicked her legs about. ‘She’s a little fighter, this one.’ Smaller than the black and white but with beautiful markings, she warmed even Maggie’s heart.

  ‘Which would you have?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Neither,’ said Maggie. ‘Too much of a tie.’ Although her main concern was that they would outlive her and end up in a rescue somewhere.

  Tom screwed his face up. ‘Not being funny or anything, but you don’t go out much. Wouldn’t a dog be good company?’ Maggie opened her mouth to respond but Tom kept going. ‘And a great burglar deterrent, living out here on your own.’

  ‘I’m the only burglar deterrent I need. Well, me and my air rifle.’

  Tom looked despondent. He kept the puppy on his lap and she fell asleep as he stroked her. ‘I’d have this one. I’ve never seen a dog this colour before. Apart from her mum.’

  ‘It is lovely, I agree.’ Maggie would at least concede that.

  *

  Tom did a great job of feeding the puppies through the night and although Maggie was awake and listening out he didn’t call for her help. She was proud of him for coping on his own. He cleared up their mess the next morning and put Savage’s jumper in the washing machine without having to be told. They had a difficult discussion about him going to the library as he didn’t want to be away from the puppies but as he’d promised Farah he’d be there for her first reading session, he couldn’t let her down.

  Maggie had reluctantly agreed to be temporary puppy nursemaid on the understanding he was only missing for one feed. It had been months since Maggie had missed a book club. It had been an important part of her week for such a long time and while she didn’t like missing it she wasn’t bereft. Tom was going to book club and would put her thoughts across as well as his own – or at least he had pledged to. She’d enjoyed the book and suspected most of the others would have too, which made for the least engaging kind of session.

  Tom came rushing in a few hours after he’d left, bypassed Maggie and went straight to the puppies.

  ‘Hi, Tom,’ she said but got no reply so she continued the conversation on her own. ‘Hi, Maggie. How did the puppy-sitting go? Okay, thanks…’