Maggie couldn’t have been prouder. A cough from Savage reminded them he was there.
‘Sorry, Fraser,’ said Maggie. ‘I can’t recommend Tom here enough. He’s a cracking little worker. He won’t let you down. Not like last year’s wastrels.’ Savage made a series of noises that seemed to imply he agreed. ‘But he’ll want paying at the going rate,’ added Maggie with a hard stare, which Savage returned. A frosty silence ensued. ‘Well?’
Savage’s badger-like eyebrows lumbered about his forehead. ‘I’m not made of money.’ Maggie tilted her head in a way that was oddly menacing for a woman of her years. ‘Fine. I’ll pay him what I paid them others.’
‘Awesome. Thanks,’ said Tom, shaking Savage’s hand.
Maggie gave him a nod of approval. ‘You’ll not regret it,’ she said.
*
Back at Maggie’s they celebrated Tom’s new job with a biscuit and a cup of tea for Maggie and a Coke for Tom – she’d got a couple of bottles in, just in case.
‘Are you going to read it?’ asked Tom.
‘Sorry?’ asked Maggie.
‘The letter you got out of the box. It’s another one about your son. Isn’t it?’ He leaned against the chair back and munched his biscuit.
Maggie pulled the crumpled brown envelope from her pocket and put it on the table. It looked so dull and uninteresting. But the sight of it filled her with trepidation. ‘Why would they be writing to me again?’ She spoke to the envelope. ‘Surely everything has been said.’ She looked up at Tom, tears welling in her eyes.
‘Might be admin stuff.’ He bent forward. ‘You want me to read it?’
She thought for a moment. She was already afraid of what it might say. Although she couldn’t think how things could get any worse. ‘Please,’ said Maggie, grateful she was sitting down, as her legs were feeling weak and her heart heavy.
Tom ripped the envelope open, and pulled out a typed page, which was wrapped around another envelope. The latter was made from thick cream paper and had already been opened, it had “Maggie” handwritten on the front in slanting writing. Tom laid out the typed sheet. ‘Dear Mrs Mann, Enclosed is correspondence sent to us from Lisa,’ read Tom. He looked at Maggie. ‘Who’s she?’
Maggie’s head snapped up. ‘I don’t know.’ She searched her mind but the name meant nothing to her.
Tom took out and unfolded the second letter. ‘Dear Maggie, Thank you for sending the package of cherished baby items. It was very thoughtful of you and I felt they deserved a reply. You know my husband as River but his name was changed to Richard when he was adopted.’ Tom paused. ‘You can’t blame them for that,’ he said with a wonky smile.
Maggie wiped away a tear. ‘Is there any more?’
‘Yes. Sorry.’ He returned to the letter. ‘I feel I need to be honest so I’m afraid to say I don’t know if Richard will reach a point where he will want to communicate with you. He knows I am writing to you and has reviewed this letter. Richard had a happy upbringing with adoptive parents who love and support him in everything he does. His father was a dentist, now retired, and his mother was a…’ Tom stopped and studied Maggie. ‘Are you okay with this?’
Maggie nodded and waved for him to continue while she blew her nose.
He scanned the letter to find his place. ‘His mother was a part-time music teacher. Richard is also a dentist and joined his father’s dental practice from university and took over from his father eleven years ago. Richard and I met at university in Sheffield. We married in 1994 and have two children…’ Maggie drew a sharp intake of breath but Tom continued. ‘Rosie who is twenty-three and Oliver who is nineteen. We live in Kent with our two dogs and Rosie’s horses.’ Tom turned the page. ‘I hope this letter has helped to fill in some blanks for you as your last letter did for Richard. With kindest regards, Lisa Haseley.’
Tom handed the letter to Maggie. She took it but the tears blurred her vision too much for her to read it. Tom’s voice was swimming in her mind. Scores of questions she’d held for so long had been answered in a few sentences. The letter had given her much-longed-for information – he had a wife and children. She was a grandmother. And yet… What the letter hadn’t told her, could never tell her, was what her son looked like. Other questions that had built up over the years seemed to breach the dam: Did his hair change from the baby blonde she remembered? What did his voice sound like? His laugh? Was he like her in any way?
‘You okay?’ asked Tom looking full of concern.
She didn’t like being the one who made him look that way. ‘I’m fine, really.’ Maggie tried to pull herself together and blew her nose but the smile she pasted on was obviously fake. She stood up and hastily returned the letter to its envelope.
‘You look like you need a hug,’ said Tom. He didn’t give her a chance to think about it or protest. He wrapped her in a tight embrace and held her. It was like something unravelled within her and she cried.
47
TOM
Maggie called a meeting the day before the library was due to close. It was a last chance to see if we could do anything. She invited the council to attend but she got no reply so we weren’t expecting anyone. The newspaper article had stirred up tons of interest and support. They’d been careful about how they worded it but information from an unnamed source about possible development plans had certainly stirred things up. The builders had unintentionally helped as instead of denying any involvement they had responded saying they were unable to comment on individual projects, which was enough smoke for the newspaper to assume there was a flame somewhere. But the council had refused to comment about the building work and everything had gone quiet. I’d submitted our petition and heard nothing either.
Maggie had made cakes, including a lemon drizzle, and I was putting it onto plates when some more people arrived. Farah shut the door behind her. It was hard not to stare. I’d not seen her for ages – or at least it felt like it. Each time I saw her my stomach spun like the reels on a fruit machine. I concentrated on the lemon drizzle cake.
‘Hi,’ said Farah, coming to stand in front of me. ‘This is it. D-Day.’
‘I guess.’ I didn’t know what to say to her anymore. Things were still a bit awkward between us. And I had a gift for saying the wrong thing.
‘I’m doing National Citizen Service. What are your plans for the summer?’ she asked.
‘I’ve got a job on a farm.’
‘Maggie’s?’ she asked.
‘No.’ I was a bit hacked off with her assuming that. ‘A farm in Furrow’s Cross. Dipping the sheep. That sort of thing. It’ll look good on my CV when I apply to universities.’ Me and Maggie had been doing some investigation into agricultural courses and I was more fired up than ever.
‘Cool,’ she said. We looked anywhere but at each other. ‘It’s good to have a break from studying. I was fed up with it,’ she added.
‘Me too.’ I nodded.
Farah tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Especially as I was baby-sitting Joshua Kemp,’ she said.
Okay now she’d got my attention. ‘How d’ya mean?’ I asked.
‘His mum knows my mum and they were worried he was falling behind so my mum volunteered me to help him revise. Total waste of time. The loser kept talking about how ace he was rather than studying. In the end I told my parents it was affecting my revision and that got me out of it.’
‘So you and he…’ I hardly dare ask the question.
‘We weren’t going out. We never were. You just jumped to the wrong conclusion.’
I tried not to grin but I was chuffed to hear this. ‘Right. Sorry about that. Lemon drizzle cake?’ In my excitement I almost shoved it up her nose.
We gathered around the table and Maggie called the meeting to order. The door opened and in walked the bloke from the council Maggie called the Bigwig. The guy was bald so I’ve no idea why she calls him that. Sarcasm maybe? Christine almost fell over in her haste to distance herself from the meeting and began reordering books on the shelf at high sp
eed and most annoyingly in the wrong order.
‘Christine, I need a word,’ said the council Bigwig, taking Christine out the back. Which was a bit odd because it’s basically a tiny kitchen and cupboard. Not the best place to have a meeting especially if he was about to confirm that she’d lost her job.
We all waited and watched the door until the moment the handle turned and then we all pretended to be doing something else. Christine came out first, her face covered by a giant tissue. Not a good sign but not exactly a surprise. Christine retook her seat next to Maggie but kept fidgeting like a kid does when they need a wee.
‘I’ll keep this brief,’ said Mr Bigwig. ‘Formal emails will be issued at three o’clock tomorrow but suffice to say Christine is being retained but will be splitting her time across three local libraries and overseeing the new mobile library.’
Christine started to cry as everyone congratulated her. I waved because I was on the other side of the table. Then I wished I hadn’t because everyone looked my way. ‘Congratulations,’ I said in a squeaky voice that didn’t sound like mine.
‘What does that mean for Compton Mallow library exactly?’ asked Maggie in her usual forceful way.
He seemed irritated. ‘It means this library, along with Dunchurch and Harbury, will need additional volunteers to maintain the current opening hours. If they can’t be found the library hours will be reduced, which may eventually lead to its closure.’
‘It’s a stay of execution,’ said Maggie. ‘Without volunteers it will inevitably be closed.’
‘I’ll volunteer,’ I said. Farah smiled at me and I nearly lost my shit. It was like the sun finally coming out after a dystopian winter.
‘Me too,’ said Farah and there was an echo of the same from almost everyone there.
‘Well,’ he blustered. ‘There’s a formal process and you’ll need to sign up with Christine.’ He said some other stuff but I was more interested in Farah’s excitement at us being library volunteers. Christine saw the council bloke out and as soon as the door clicked shut we all cheered. It was awesome. Lots of hugging and handshaking followed until I was face to face with Farah and we weren’t sure what to do. We both flushed red and turned away.
It’d be beyond awkward if I asked Farah out and she said no. That would change things massively. I’d always feel like a loser and she’d think I was a bit of a creep for hitting on her. If we did go out, which is, like, a huge if – because Farah is way out of my league – but say we did. At some point we’d break up, which is always going to cause serious issues and then that’d be it. We’d never speak again and I can’t afford to lose her. So friends it is. Unless of course she snogs my face off in which case I’d defo be up for it. Well, I’m only human.
*
Waiting for my GCSE results was torture but working on Savage’s farm took my mind off things. I was outdoors all the time and mostly had one of the dogs with me. Rusty’s puppies were both sold but at least I got to see Rusty most days. I loved the work. It was full-on and knackering but I was doing something useful and I was getting a tan. The money was all right and I’d been giving some to Dad and saving the rest. I tried paying Maggie some rent and she threatened to knock my block off so instead I thought I’d do something nice for her or get her something decent for Christmas.
Dad was okay about me living with Maggie in the week and coming home after I’d done my volunteer’s shift at the library on a Saturday. Weekends with Dad were about watching telly and making up Avon orders but the atmosphere was more relaxed now that the drinking and finances were under control. At least we had something to talk about although he still wasn’t great at conversation. I’d started cooking on a Saturday night. Maggie had been teaching me some simple stuff and a few trips on the bus to the charity shops in Leamington Spa have got both me and Dad looking half decent.
Living in two places probably sounds weird to other people but it suits me fine. I wasn’t looking forward to going back to Dad’s all the time when school restarted but I didn’t have much choice. I’d talked to Maggie about it and she said I needed to tell Dad how I felt but I couldn’t seem to work out how to say it without it sounding like I didn’t want to live with him. He was okay now he was off the alcohol and I definitely didn’t want to do anything that might set him back.
Results day was a Thursday and I decided to get the early bus down to be there when the results were handed out. Maggie asked if I wanted her to come with me. I kind of did but I knew some of the other kids wouldn’t have their olds with them so I said no thanks.
There was already a crowd waiting when I got off the bus. Farah was with her mates. I lurked alone at the back. When they opened the school doors it was all quite organised but I bet everyone just wanted to charge in, grab their envelope and run out like Usain Bolt. I was queuing when I heard squeals and saw Farah jumping up and down with another girl. They both seemed happy. My stomach lurched. What if I’d messed it all up?
‘Name?’ asked the bored-looking lady who usually worked in the office. She didn’t appear happy about having to come in to work today.
‘Thomas Harris.’
‘Like the author?’ she asked.
A few months ago I wouldn’t have a had a clue what she was talking about but now I was quite proud to share my name with one of the authors I enjoyed reading.
‘Yeah. The same.’
She handed me an envelope. A brown envelope. I thought about the brown envelopes that came for Maggie from social services and I suddenly wished Maggie had come with me. I didn’t want to open this alone. I wandered outside staring at my name on the envelope.
‘Harris.’ I looked up. It was Kemp.
‘Kemp.’
He did the smallest possible movement of his head, so small you couldn’t really call it a nod, and then he walked past me and joined the queue. It was the most civil conversation we’d ever shared.
‘So?’ Farah appeared at my shoulder. ‘Haven’t you opened it? Come on!’ She was a bit hyper.
I couldn’t not open it now. I ripped the envelope and I thought I was going to be sick. My gut churned like a turbo-charged cement mixer. I pulled out the white sheet of paper and looked at it. I stared at it but I couldn’t take it in. It was like I’d lost the ability to read. I went over my name on the page about four times before I dare look at the grades. The numbers all swapped about.
‘You got an eight in history. I’m claiming that!’ said Farah. ‘Gotta go – my parents are waiting in the car. See you at the library.’
I spun around but I was too late; she’d already run off. I watched her go out of the gate. I blinked a few times to check what I was seeing. Dad was standing just outside the railings watching me. He slowly raised his hand and I did the same like a slow motion mirror mime.
Dad came over and we stared at the sheet together. ‘It was letters in my day. What do the numbers mean?’ he asked.
‘Grade four is a pass. But I need three at grade five and three at grade six – which is like an old B grade – or above to get into sixth form.’
He leaned forward. We both sort of realised at the same time. ‘Apart from French they’re all five or higher. Blimey. Well done, son.’ He slapped me on the shoulder but this time his hand stayed there. ‘I’m proud of you, Tom.’
‘Thanks.’ We stayed staring at the results. I couldn’t quite believe it. I’d got my best marks in the subjects I wanted to do at A level. That meant I’d definitely got a place in sixth form. I’d even scraped a five in biology. I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding in. I’d only actually gone and done it.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘I’m surprised I guess.’ I’d done way better than I thought I would.
‘I’m not,’ said Dad.
I looked at him. ‘Why?’
‘Because you’re smart like your mum. And you’ve been swotting hard.’ He held his palms up. ‘That’s not a criticism. I hadn’t realised how serious you were about going to univer
sity until I saw you studying. And for what it’s worth I think you were right to want more than the apprenticeship.’
‘It’s not that—’
‘It’s okay,’ he said interrupting me. ‘I’m proud of you for standing up to me. I mean I was pissed off at the time but you were right, you’re worth more than the factory. This proves it.’ He tapped the results. ‘You should let Maggie know.’
I called Maggie to tell her and she nearly burst my eardrum with her shouting but I loved that she was so chuffed for me and not afraid to show it. She invited me and Dad over for a celebratory meal. I hovered for a second. I had her on loudspeaker and I wasn’t sure if Dad would be up for it.
‘You don’t have to come,’ I said quickly to him.
He smiled and nodded. ‘If her cooking’s anything like her cake then count me in,’ he said.
*
When I opened the front door at Maggie’s she must have been waiting in the hallway because she almost knocked me over with the force of her hug. ‘You absolute bloomin’ star!’ she said, when she finally let me go. I didn’t mind. I liked it really. I mean I made a big fuss of wiping her kiss off my cheek but that’s expected. ‘I knew you could do it. I never doubted you for a second,’ she said. I knew every word was true and it was the best feeling.
‘Thanks, Maggie. You know, for everything.’ She batted my thanks away and turned to Dad.
‘Hello, Paul,’ she said. ‘What about the boy then?’
‘I’m very proud,’ said Dad, following my lead and taking off his shoes.
‘Right. Dinner is on. Fizzy elderflower is in the fridge to celebrate with but first I’ve got a little something for Tom. Well, more joint ownership really.’ I had no idea what she was on about. Dad shrugged. ‘I’ll cover any costs,’ she continued. ‘But I’ll be needing Tom here to do most of the work.’ Maggie marched off to the living room.
‘This is what she’s like. You just need to go with it,’ I whispered.
‘Okay,’ said Dad and he smiled.
‘Are you two coming?’ called Maggie.
The Library Page 28