“My god, that was awkward,” said a voice that she recognized as Becky.
“Well, it’s hardly a surprise. She always was a weirdo at school,” said Tara. “Remember how she followed Gayle round in our first year like a lovesick puppy?”
One of them turned on a tap and there was the sound of gushing water.
“I wonder why Gayle invited her,” Becky said.
“She didn’t. Apparently June begged Gayle’s mum to get her an invitation.”
“No way, that’s so tragic. Can I borrow your lippie?”
“Sure.”
There was silence, and June held her breath.
“I wonder why she didn’t just lie and pretend she’d done some of those things,” Becky said after a moment. “Do you think she’s really a virgin?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“God, imagine being twenty-eight and never having done anything. I wonder if she’s got many friends.”
“Well, she didn’t have any at school, so I doubt it. Do you want a spray of perfume?”
“Yes, please.”
A strong floral smell filled the air, and June held her nose so she wouldn’t sneeze.
“Do you remember her mum got sick when we were doing our A levels?” Tara said. “I heard she died while we were at uni.”
“Did she?”
“I’m sure I heard that. And I don’t think June has any other family.”
“Man, that’s grim. Shall we get back out there?”
“Yep. Did you see what Alicia’s wearing? She looks so . . .”
June heard the door close and the voices fade away. She counted to twenty before she unlocked the cubicle and stepped out. The perfume still hung in the air, sickly sweet and cloying at the back of her throat, and for a moment June thought she might be sick. She stared at her reflection in the mirror: mascara streaked down her cheeks and her hair wild around her head, like some demented clown from a horror movie. There was no way she could go back out there and face those awful women with their pitying smiles and laughter. She had to get out of here, now.
June picked up her phone to call Linda for a lift, before remembering that she’d gone to visit her daughter for the weekend. Sighing, she started to put the phone back in her bag when she saw a text message on the screen.
Alex Chen
Hope the hen do is fun—say congrats to Gayle from me! x
As she read the message, June felt a flood of relief so strong that without thinking she pressed dial and held the phone to her ear.
“Alex, can you talk?” she said when he answered. Her voice came out as a raspy whisper.
“Of course. Are you all right?”
“No. I’m . . .” June felt a sob building and tried to stifle it.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Alex’s voice was full of concern.
“The hen . . . it’s terrible . . .” was all she managed to get out.
“Where are you now?”
“Hiding in the toilets.”
“You should get out of there. Can someone pick you up?”
June took a deep breath. “Alex, I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t have a single person I can call. Please can you—”
“Al, have you seen my black dress anywhere?”
The voice was young, husky, and female, and June remembered with a jolt that Alex was in London.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize . . .” she mumbled.
“No, that’s okay. Hang on one sec . . . Ellie, I’m just . . .” There was a rustling sound as Alex moved the phone away, and June pictured him covering the microphone with his hand. She could make out the odd muffled word.
“Girl from school . . .”
“Lives alone . . .”
“Doesn’t have anyone . . .”
June felt each word like a slap across the face.
“Sorry about that,” Alex said when he came back on the line. “What were you saying?”
June was so mortified that it took a moment for her to find any words. “Nothing. I’d better go.”
“No, it’s fine. Do you want me to—”
“Sorry to bother you. Bye.”
June hung up and looked in the mirror, feeling a wave of revulsion at the pathetic face staring back at her. She wanted to scream in humiliation. Why the hell had she called Alex when he was with his girlfriend? She imagined the two of them laughing about this weird girl from school who was so tragic she didn’t have any friends to ask for help. Or worse still, not laughing but pitying her.
Fighting back hot tears, June threw her phone into her bag and hurried out of the toilets.
* * *
• • •
June caught a taxi home and spent the rest of the afternoon hiding with the curtains drawn against the bright August sunshine. She tried to read Great Expectations, but every time there was a scene with Miss Havisham, she felt a creeping sense of recognition and eventually cast the book aside. She started cleaning, but each picture and ornament seemed to be mocking her. How can you still be a virgin at twenty-eight? the china girl with the book teased as June dusted her. What are you so afraid of, Junebug? her mum asked out of every framed photo. Even Alan Bennett got in on the act. You’re such a loser, he seemed to say as June fed him. You’ve hidden away in this house rather than get out there and live your life.
That evening, as June lay slumped on the sofa listlessly watching an old episode of Four in a Bed, she heard her phone buzz. She glanced down and saw a message from Alex. At the sight of his name, June felt a stab of pain at the memory of their phone conversation and his words to Ellie. Girl from school . . . lives alone . . . doesn’t have anyone . . . Alex had been the one person whom June could call anything near to a friend, but now he knew how sad her life really was.
She picked up the phone and clicked on his message.
Alex Chen
Hey, hope ur ok? Dad told me he just saw the library protest event on the local news—I can’t believe those old FOCL fuddy duddies booked a stripper! Great news for the campaign though x
June sat up abruptly. In all her self-pity, she hadn’t once thought about the library event this morning. She quickly searched on her phone to find the local news and pressed play. There was a report on some local building development, but June couldn’t concentrate on it, willing the story to hurry up.
And then suddenly Tessa was on the screen, standing outside the church hall.
“Six libraries in Dunningshire are threatened with closure by the council. But only one has come up with such a novel way of drawing attention to their cause.”
The news piece cut inside and there was Rocky, wearing some kind of S and M cowboy outfit, grinding away in the center of the church hall. There was a small, shocked-looking crowd watching him, and in the middle stood Jackson, his mouth hanging open.
“With just seven weeks to go until the council’s consultation ends, organizers in Chalcot have laid on an eye-catching protest,” Tessa was saying.
The piece went to Mrs. Bransworth, looking dazed. “Er, we thought this might help draw attention to our campaign,” she stammered, as Rocky thrust and gyrated behind her.
Now Stanley was on-screen, standing in front of the library. “We may only be a small library, but it’s vital to this community. People rely on it for so much more than just books. It will be a travesty if the council shut it down.”
And then the picture was back on Rocky, this time wearing nothing but a tiny thong. As the camera panned around, it showed Vera sitting in front of him, rubbing what looked like whipped cream into Rocky’s chest, a look of absolute concentration on her face.
The news piece ended, and June sat staring at her phone in stunned silence. It had worked. Rocky’s performance had got the library protest on the news. A smile slowly spread across her face, and she laughed out loud, startl
ing Alan Bennett, who’d been sleeping next to her.
“I did it, Alan,” she said, as the cat looked at her in confusion. “I actually did it.”
June picked up a picture frame from the table next to the sofa. It held a photo of her mum, taken years ago outside Chalcot Library. Beverley was grinning, the clock tower rising above her head as she squinted at the camera. June brushed some dust from the glass.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so hopeless, Mum,” she whispered. “I know I’ve been wasting my life and I’ve let you down. But I’m going to try to change that now, I promise.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When June arrived for her shift on Monday afternoon, she found Vera camped out at a table inside the library, telling everyone who’d listen about her exploits with Rocky.
“You know I thought it might be shaving foam, but it was real whipped cream. I had a taste,” she was telling an excited crowd of ladies from the Knit and Natter group.
“It was the most remarkable sight,” Stanley said, joining June as she started tidying up the noticeboard. “He had three different outfits: policeman, cowboy, and fireman. And he had Velcro on his trousers so he could rip them off easily. Such a prudent idea—I might try it with my suit.”
“Stanley, look at this,” said Chantal, coming over to him with her phone. “Before the news went out yesterday, we had one hundred and eleven likes on our Facebook page. Now we have almost a thousand.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“People keep messaging, asking what we’re doing next.”
“We need to ask Mrs. Bransworth. She’ll have a plan.”
“She’s here now,” Chantal said, pointing toward the door.
“Here’s the hero of the hour,” said Stanley. “Three cheers for Mrs. Bransworth.”
“Stop it,” Mrs. B snapped. “That stripper had nothing to do with me; I disapprove of sexual exploitation in any form.”
“Well, who organized it, then?” Stanley said.
Mrs. B lowered her voice, and June had to strain to hear her.
“The stripper told me he’d been redirected to the protest by someone called Matilda.”
As Mrs. B said the name, June almost dropped the pile of leaflets she was holding. She quickly turned her back on the group.
“Who the hell is Matilda?” Vera said.
“Matilda is our secret informant,” Stanley said. “She sends us information via Tweeter.”
“You mean Twitter,” Chantal said.
“Yes. She’s our spy and sends us twits. She’s the one who told us about Brian Spencer at the pub and Marjorie’s secret meetings with the management consultants. And now she’s done this for us.”
“Well, I may not approve of her methods, but Matilda has saved our arses once again,” Mrs. B said. “Now, we need to strike whilst the iron’s hot.”
“What about staging something outside county hall?” Stanley said. “We could make placards and sing songs.”
“Yes, like in the American civil rights movement,” Mrs. B said.
“Don’t tell us you were there as well,” Vera muttered under her breath.
The group carried on chatting, but June moved away. A county hall protest was a good idea, but what the library really needed was more books being taken out. The council had said they’d be basing their decision on issue numbers, and June knew that right now Chalcot’s numbers were perilously low. She glanced back at Mrs. B, Stanley, and Chantal, and then she pulled her phone out and quickly typed a Twitter message from Matilda.
“Get over here, now!”
Marjorie was watching June across the library floor, her eyes narrow. “What was that stunt you pulled with the stripper?” she whispered when June joined her.
“I did that for you, Marjorie. It was the only way I could stop him performing at the hen do.”
“But in the process, you put the good name of Chalcot Library in disrepute. I’ll be a laughingstock at the next library managers’ monthly meet-up.” Marjorie fanned herself with a paperback. “Does anyone know it was you who sent him?”
“No one. I did it anonymously.”
“That’s something, at least. If the council found out, then we’d both be out on our ears.”
“You have to admit, it was good publicity for the library campaign, though,” June said.
“Hmm . . . So how was Gayle’s hen do?”
“It was fine,” June said, praying that Gayle hadn’t told her mum what happened.
“Well, I appreciate you helping me out. As a thank-you, I’ll make sure you’re invited to the wedding. Evening only, of course.”
“Oh, there’s no need.”
“Don’t be silly. I know you want to come.”
“But really—”
“This conversation is over. I have lots to do.” Marjorie turned to walk away, then looked back at June. “Just remember what I said. The council must never find out you had anything to do with that stripper or FOCL. If they do, I won’t be able to protect you.”
* * *
• • •
For the rest of the week, June did whatever she could to help FOCL secretly. She researched other successful library campaigns around the country and forwarded their details via Matilda. When Marjorie went to do outreach on Wednesday morning, June plucked up the courage to have a search around her office in case she could discover any information about Mrs. Coulter, the management consultant. She didn’t find anything, but the adrenaline from her undercover spying made her jumpy for the rest of the day.
On Thursday, June was helping a patron with his online passport application when she heard a familiar voice behind her. She’d been avoiding Alex since their awful phone call and had skipped her Chinese takeaway on Monday night, so the sudden sound of him nearby made June’s skin flush hot. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was deep in conversation with Stanley.
“Did she say anything else?” Stanley was saying in a low voice.
“No, just what I told you already.”
“But what do you think it means? Should I—”
“Excuse me, miss?” The man June was assisting was staring at her. “What do I need to do now?”
“Sorry,” June said, her whole body burning with shame. Were they talking about her call to Alex on Saturday? It was bad enough that he’d found out how pathetic she was, but now Stanley knew as well. June kept her back turned to them as she helped fill out the man’s application, praying that Stanley and Alex wouldn’t notice she was there.
A few minutes later, she felt someone walk behind her.
“Hey, stranger.”
June couldn’t bear to turn around and see Alex’s pitying face, so she kept her eyes fixed on the computer screen in front of her. “Hi.”
“How are you?”
“Okay.” June typed something on the keyboard, hoping he couldn’t see that her hands were shaking.
“You didn’t come into the takeaway on Monday. I was worrying about—”
“I’m sorry, I’m just helping a customer here,” June said before he could finish. She heard a faint sigh behind her, and then a moment later she could sense that Alex was gone.
June finished and headed toward the desk. Stanley was sitting in his chair and June saw him glance at her as she walked past, but he said nothing. As she got back to the desk, Mrs. Bransworth came storming in through the front door.
“Those arseholes!” she shouted. “The cheating, conniving bastards!”
Everyone in the library turned to look at her.
“What’s wrong?” Stanley said.
“I just went into the shop to see how many signatures we have on our petition, and Naresh told me that someone has stolen it.”
“No! What about the one in the pub?”
“That’s gone too. They said it disappeared from the bar y
esterday.”
“My god. We had nearly five hundred signatures supporting the library, all lost.”
“We’ll have to start again,” Mrs. B said.
“But what if it gets taken again?”
Neither of them spoke for a moment, and June could see them both desperately searching for ideas.
“Maybe we should try one of those online petitions like Chantal suggested?” Stanley said.
“I suppose,” Mrs. B said, although she sounded unsure.
“I can’t believe someone would stoop so low as to steal a petition.” Stanley was shaking his head. “Who would do that?”
“Probably the council,” Mrs. B said. “Unless it was someone closer to home . . .”
As she said this, she looked straight at June. For a second their eyes met, and June quickly looked away.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you creeping around eavesdropping on us,” Mrs. B shouted across at her, so loudly that everyone in the library went quiet. “What would your mother say if she knew you were working to get this library closed? You’re a disgrace, June, and your mum would be ashamed of you.”
June felt Mrs. B’s words like a knife in her heart. For a second she wanted to shout back that she was Matilda, that she was helping them fight, but instead she turned and rushed toward the back of the library, tears blurring her vision.
Was that really what everybody thought about her, Stanley included? June closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. It took her a few minutes to compose herself, and by the time she returned to the desk, Mrs. B and Stanley had moved over to the computers and out of earshot. June watched them hunched over the keyboard together. By the look of things, they were setting up an online petition, which was all very well, but how would anyone in the village find out about it? At least with the paper petition it had been left in prominent places so people could see it, but June knew that lots of the villagers wouldn’t know the first thing about an online one. If only there was a way she could spread the word without anyone knowing it was her.
The Last Chance Library Page 11