The Library

by Bella Osborne

  ‘Yeah. Don’t know exactly when the interview will be but you’ve got time to swot up.’

  ‘I thought we were all right for money now.’

  Dad’s forehead filled with frown lines. ‘We’re managing but I’m not Steve Jobs.’

  ‘He’s dead.’ I might have been missing the point.

  ‘Is he?’ I nodded. ‘Anyway, some extra cash wouldn’t go amiss. What you pay me in board and lodging I could put some aside for a holiday.’ He looked chuffed with himself. ‘Actually, don’t get too excited about a holiday because I need to check how much it is to stay in a caravan these days.’

  ‘I need to go.’ I hastily packed my books into my bag.

  ‘Oh, yeah, ’course. We’ll talk tonight. All right?’

  I didn’t answer. I put my bag on my back and left.

  The cycle to school was usually a good opportunity to listen to music and empty my head but not today. It was as if he’d not listened at all the last time we’d had this discussion. It was like that old film Groundhog Day. Were we going to keep having the same conversation until I gave in and went to work at the dog food factory? My exams had been mixed. I reckon I’d done okay in some but others, like French, I knew I’d messed up. But like Maggie had said I needed to pass six overall and get good marks in the subjects I was considering for A levels and if I could do that I was staying on. Or at least that’s what I’d been working towards. I realised all my conversations about my plans for my future had been with Maggie.

  I pedalled faster and left the pavement without looking. My mind fully occupied. I saw a flash of white as the van turned into the road and then nothing.

  40

  MAGGIE

  The vegetable patch was keeping Maggie busy. It had been a little neglected while Tom had been living at the farm but now she was distraction-free she could devote the hours it needed. Once again she had plenty of time to fill. She’d lost a few strawberries and raspberries to rabbits and birds but she repaired her netting and got back on top of picking the fruit and harvesting the vegetables in a timely manner. She’d made one batch of strawberry jam already and had plans for more but it would have to wait until after she’d taken her fleeces to the sale.

  The shearing ring had visited, as they did every year, and had done the job in a blink of an eye. They were a group of Australian lads who stayed on a nearby farm and did the rounds of all the sheep farms in the area. They were quick and cheap and it provided a way for them to travel around Europe and amass some cash in the process. Maggie was always amazed by the speed they worked – a whole fleece clean off in under a minute. Sadly the downside of their speedy work meant they weren’t there long enough to chat.

  The fleece sale was an annual event and she cadged a lift with Savage every year. Savage was first and foremost a commercial sheep farmer but his family had always bred Jacobs, to keep their own pure bloodline for mixing with the commercials. She knew he had a soft spot for the breed but he’d never let on. His commercial fleeces didn’t fetch much but the rare breeds fared slightly better and her lavenders better still. Savage always offered to take Maggie’s for her, and she did trust him to get a fair price, but it was a day out and a change of scenery so despite the fact they barely spoke from the moment they left Furrow’s Cross until they returned she nevertheless enjoyed it.

  She was looking forward to it. The folk at the fleece sale were mainly crafters, as it was focused on rare breed fleeces, and there were often some commercial sellers but they were all sheep people and it was good to catch up with them. She only saw them once a year but the natter over a fleece and a cup of tea was always enjoyable.

  Savage didn’t like waiting around, therefore with ten minutes to spare, Maggie was already in the hallway with her keys in her hand. Her mind was somewhere else. The telephone startled her and she raced off to answer it, already cursing that if Savage turned up and she wasn’t ready he’d be even grumpier than usual.

  ‘Maggie?’ It was a voice she didn’t recognise.

  ‘Yes, who is this?’ She frantically checked her watch.

  ‘Ah, well I’m Lyle and I’ve got your grandson here.’

  The caller suddenly had all of her attention. ‘I’m sorry. What did you say?’

  ‘Tom. I’ve got your grandson, Tom, with me. He’s had an accident…’ Maggie couldn’t help the gasp that escaped. ‘He’s okay… well, I knocked him off his bike.’

  ‘Oh my goodness. Is he in hospital?’

  ‘No, I offered to take him but he says he’s all right.’

  ‘Could I speak to him please?’ Grandson, he’d said he was her grandson. Then she realised it was probably more about how embarrassed he would have been to say he was friends with a seventy-two-year-old woman. But still, grandson.

  ‘Yep. Here you go.’ There was a muffled exchange as the phone was passed on.

  ‘I didn’t know who to call,’ came Tom’s strained voice. ‘The bike’s knackered and Dad’s going to kill me. He needs it for work tonight. I’ve got an exam and I don’t know what to do.’

  Maggie swept her emotions aside and went into efficient mode. ‘Where does it hurt and how bad it is it?’

  ‘My right side. My thigh. Kind of like the worst dead leg ever and it’s throbbing but I can stand on it.’

  ‘Excellent. Nothing broken then. What happened?’

  ‘It was my fault. I wasn’t looking. The bike’s all buckled. Dad’s going to kill me.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that right now. Where are you?’

  ‘Not far from school.’

  ‘Right. Can you—’ She was interrupted by an impatient blast of a car horn. Savage would have to wait. ‘Can you get to school do you think?’

  There was another muffled conversation. ‘The van driver says he can drop me at school.’

  ‘And are you happy to get in a car with him?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s got logos for Taylor’s Builders all over his van and he’s given me his business card. I think he’s legit.’

  ‘Then you go with him. Leave the bike where it is. If it’s damaged I doubt it will be stolen…’

  ‘He says he can take the bike in the back of the van.’

  ‘Can he bring it here?’ Another longer blast of the car horn from Savage punctuated the conversation.

  ‘Hang on.’ She got part of the conversation at Tom’s end. ‘Furrow’s Cross. Yeah. He says he will.’

  ‘Excellent. Right, what time are you due to finish school today?’

  ‘About three I think.’

  ‘I’ll try and get the bike fixed and back for then. Okay?’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks, Maggie.’

  She could hear the relief in his voice and it warmed her heart that it was her he had turned to. ‘You’re welcome. Now forget about this and focus on that exam.’

  ‘Okay,’ came his weak reply and the call ended. She was sorry that Tom had had an accident but the joy she felt at hearing his voice was immense. A hammering on the front door pulled her attention.

  ‘Okay, I’m coming,’ yelled Maggie, heading for the door. She opened it to a thunderous-looking Savage. She held her palms up. ‘I’m sorry but Tom’s had an accident, been knocked off his bike, poor lad.’

  Savage’s expression changed. ‘Sorry to hear that.’ He looked past Maggie and into the house. ‘You not coming then?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I can’t now. I’ve got to work out how to get a bike fixed.’

  Savage seemed to misinterpret her thoughtful expression as a plea for help. ‘I need to get off now. But you’re welcome to use my tool shed. And if you’re not coming I’ll likely be back within a couple of hours. I can give you a hand.’

  ‘You know about bikes?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m quite handy. When I was a nipper, I’d strip ’em down and build ’em back up again. Only transport we had as kids – that and Dad’s Lamborghini…’ Maggie’s eyes widened. ‘The tractor… that was made by Lamborghini.’

  She chuckled and Savage’s eyes crink
led at the edges. ‘The fleeces are in the barn, if you’re okay to take them?’

  ‘No problem. I’d best get off but you’ve got a house key. Mac’s in the yard and Rusty and the pups are in the back porch. Tool shed key is hung up in there.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s kind.’

  The usual hard Savage façade came back down. ‘Makes no odds to me.’

  He reversed the Land Rover and trailer back up to the barn. She waited to wave him off but he drove past without a backward glance. It struck Maggie that Savage led a lonely existence. No wife, no family, just the farm. He’d lived there with his parents all his life, until they’d died a few years back. Set in his ways and with a job that kept him fairly remote he was probably facing the rest of his life alone.

  When she thought about it, there were so many people who, for whatever reason, found themselves isolated. Maybe some were happy with that set-up, maybe even Savage was. They lived a stone’s throw from each other but rarely interacted and then only on a superficial level. But perhaps interaction for interaction’s sake was worse than being lonely. She and Savage were totally different people and would likely annoy each other beyond reason if they met on a regular basis. Yes, perhaps she was better keeping herself to herself. Especially now there was a glimmer of hope in Tom’s phone call. Although she wasn’t going to kid herself that his call had been forced by anything other than desperation.

  She was shutting the door when she heard tyres on the gravel drive so she waited. The small white Taylor’s Builders van trundled into view. She waved and he pulled in front of the house.

  ‘You must be Lyle. I’m Maggie.’

  ‘I’m really sorry about your grandson. He didn’t look. He rode straight in front of the van. I didn’t have a chance. Thank heavens I was slowing down for the corner.’ He was young and gabbled a lot – like Tom.

  ‘But he’s not seriously hurt?’

  ‘No. He was shaken up but I just sort of bumped the bike and it toppled over. I didn’t actually run him over.’ There was something mildly amusing about Lyle’s intense need to reassure her.

  ‘Well. Thank you for getting him to school. He’s doing his GCSEs.’

  ‘Yeah. He told me that. His bike’s a bit of a mess.’

  She followed him to the back of the van, where he lifted the old bike out. ‘And the van?’

  ‘A couple of scratches but some other guy had it before me and it already had a few bumps. It’s fine, the gaffer won’t even notice.’

  They both studied the buckled frame of Tom’s bike. Maybe her offer to fix it had been a bit premature.

  41

  TOM

  I don’t know exactly what I was expecting to see when I limped out of the school gate but Maggie on her tractor was definitely not on my list. I quickly looked over my shoulder to check nobody was watching. There were a few faces at the windows in the science wing but they looked like lower school so I might have got away with it. Most of those who were in my exam had business studies GCSE almost straight after and the few who didn’t had all been picked up by parents. There was just me left.

  I made my way to the tractor and looked in the trailer – no bike. Maggie twisted in her seat to look at me. It was odd to see her again. Seeing her stirred up stuff in my gut. I’d missed her but I’d had loads of imaginary arguments with her in my head and I still wasn’t finished.

  ‘Slight problem with the bike,’ she said.

  They were not the words I wanted to hear although I hadn’t been looking forward to cycling home because my leg was killing me. I was getting grumpier by the second. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Savage is working on it. He thinks he can fix it but it’s taking him a while.’

  ‘But I need the bike back.’ I threw my arms up in frustration. This nightmare was getting worse.

  ‘Sorry. It was beyond my bike-fixing ability.’

  ‘You said you could fix it!’ I was getting agitated. Dad was going to go mental.

  Maggie gave me a look. ‘I was trying to help.’ She turned her head away, making me hobble around to the front of the tractor.

  ‘Dad needs the bike to get to work. He doesn’t have a car anymore. If he can’t get to work he won’t get paid and…’ I could feel my pulse starting to race at the thought of the domino of events this could trigger. And worst of all that it might end up with Dad drinking again.

  ‘Could he get a bus?’

  ‘That costs money and the bus times are rubbish.’

  ‘But it’s an option.’

  ‘No, it’s not!’ I was getting cross. I didn’t want to have to tell Dad about any of this if I could get away with it. ‘When will Savage finish the bike?’

  Maggie tilted her head on one side. ‘He reckoned he needed a couple more hours and that was about half an hour ago.’

  I checked the time on my phone. ‘As long as it’s back before Dad wakes up we’re good.’ I took a deep steadying breath. This might actually work out okay.

  ‘You all right now?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

  ‘Lift home or back to mine for cake while we wait for the bike?’ She fired up the tractor.

  I let out a sigh. I was still cross with Maggie about lying but my leg was hurting so there was no way I could walk home. With a lot of effort I hauled myself into the trailer. My phone rang and Maggie waited while I checked it. ‘It’s the library,’ I said, before answering. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Tom, thank goodness. I can’t get hold of anyone. Can you get to the library this evening? We need to have an urgent meeting of the Save the Library committee.’

  ‘Uh, Christine. I don’t know. I’ve had an accident and hurt my leg. So, no, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can.’

  ‘But we’re losing momentum. I’ve had notice from the council that I’m losing my job.’ Her voice went all weird and sounded like she was crying. It made me cringe. I hated stuff like that.

  ‘You should speak to Maggie.’ I went to give Maggie the phone but she shook her head and wouldn’t take it from me. I mouthed “Speak to Christine” at her but she crossed her arms.

  ‘I’ve tried calling Maggie but there’s no answer,’ said Christine, making me put the phone back to my ear.

  ‘I think she’s out.’ I gave Maggie a look to say I wasn’t impressed with her not speaking to Christine. I had enough problems without having to sort Christine’s out as well. The library was now a long way down my list. ‘How about Farah?’

  ‘Her phone goes to voicemail and I’ve left two messages already.’ She was starting to sound desperate. ‘Don’t you care about the library anymore?’

  ‘Look, my lift’s here. I’ve got to go. Sorry.’ I ended the call. I felt bad but what else could I do?

  The tractor lurched forward and began bouncing down the road. ‘If you come back to mine you can take the bike home on the bus when it’s ready. Or I can drop you home now and bring it back to yours on the tractor trailer later.’ Maggie gave me a quick glance. ‘But it’s up to you.’

  She’d got me. I didn’t want her turning up outside mine on the tractor and she knew it. ‘Yours then.’

  I relaxed a little bit when we were away from school. ‘You not going to the library anymore?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve not been for a while, no. You?’

  ‘Nah.’ I realised I would have to go soon because I still had some books. I’d renewed them online using the computer at school but they’d have to go back eventually.

  I was glad of the racket of the engine. The atmosphere between us was horrible. She used to be easy to talk to but everything had changed. I was regretting saying I’d come back to hers. What were we going to do for an hour? Sit and glare at each other? This was a bad idea.

  *

  Maggie stopped outside the farmhouse front door and handed me the door keys.

  The log store was almost full up. ‘Who chopped all that?’ I asked.

  ‘I did,’ said Maggie. There was yet more uncomfortable silence while I pro
cessed what this meant – she could manage without me all along.

  I didn’t say anything. I got off the tractor and let myself in the house while she put it away. The smell inside enveloped me, like walking into a hug. It smelled of cooking and incense and it was like coming home. I shook the thought from my mind. What garbage was that? This wasn’t my home. I lived with Dad. Who was Maggie anyway? Just some old lady from the library. She wasn’t the person I thought I knew. I kicked my shoes off and went through to see the puppies.

  I was standing in the living room doorway when Maggie came back in. ‘Where are they?’ I snapped at her.

  She frowned for a second before realising who I meant. ‘Oh, the pups are back at Savage’s. Assuming he’s not sold them.’ My face must have looked startled because I was. I’d assumed they’d be here. I’d thought about them masses and every time I’d pictured them in Maggie’s living room.

  ‘But…’

  ‘They are his dogs.’ She seemed to have a hard edge to her now. Maybe it was always there and I just hadn’t noticed.

  ‘I know but…’ I was interrupted by the loud bleat of a lamb and it wasn’t in the field. I gave Maggie a questioning look.

  ‘The small male of Barbara’s. I can’t remember his name—’

  ‘Tyrion.’

  ‘He got mauled by a fox so I’m hand-feeding him. I tried taking him back to Barbara but she was having none of it.’

  ‘Not such a good mother after all.’ The words were out before I could vet them. I could tell they had stung Maggie.

  ‘I suppose not. But she’s done her best.’ I opened my mouth but managed to stop myself. We both knew we weren’t talking about Barbara anymore. ‘He’s in the kitchen,’ she said.

  I walked off and tried to stop the bubbles of anger in my gut. In the kitchen Tyrion was standing in a crate like he was pleased to see me. It was painful to kneel down with my bruised leg but I managed it. Maggie passed me a seat cushion off one of the kitchen chairs for me to kneel on but neither of us said anything.