June looked at Stanley and Mrs. B again, and then an idea came to her and she felt a fizz of excitement. Yes, that was exactly what Matilda would do.
* * *
• • •
A little before midnight, June picked up her rucksack and left the house, making her way back up the hill toward the Parade. The streets were empty at this time of night, but she’d still taken the precaution of wearing dark clothes and an old baseball cap of her mum’s, the peak pulled down low over her face.
The library building was dark as she approached, the clock tower silhouetted against the moon. June checked that nobody was around as she unlocked the front door and slipped through. Inside, the library was pitch-black, but June knew this space better than anywhere and was able to maneuver between the tables and shelves without bumping into a thing. When she reached the computers, she switched one on, turning the monitor so its glow couldn’t be seen through the window, and began to type.
An hour later, June crept out of the library and relocked the front door. The rucksack on her back was heavier now, and she pulled it over both shoulders as she crept away from the library toward the village shop. Across the road, a dog walker was strolling in front of the pub, whistling to himself, and June huddled into the shadows until he passed. Then she reached into her rucksack and set to work.
* * *
• • •
The following morning, June arrived at the library at nine o’clock as usual. She’d only had two hours’ sleep, but despite that she hummed to herself as she went through her setting-up routine. At nine fifteen she heard the front door swing open, and Marjorie bustled in.
“Have you seen it out there?” she shrieked by way of a greeting.
“What’s wrong, Marjorie?”
“The Parade has been vandalized!”
“Has it?” June said, with all the fake surprise she could muster. “I can’t have been paying attention on my way in this morning.”
“Well, I don’t know how you could have missed it. Every single building has these plastered all over the front.” Marjorie waved a piece of paper at June and then started to read from it. “ ‘If you care about books and education, sign the Chalcot Library petition . . . If you believe that every child deserves the best start in life, sign the Chalcot Library petition . . . If you want to support those most at need in your local community,’ et cetera, et cetera. And then there’s a link to some online-petition thing.”
“Wow. FOCL must have done them,” June said, trying to keep her face neutral.
“There are hundreds of these posters out there—the village looks terrible. I have to call Brian. As chair of the parish council he’ll be furious about this mess.”
Marjorie stormed toward the office and June turned to look out the library front window. The Parade was busy this morning, small groups of people clustering in front of the pub and the bakery to read the posters that had been pasted up overnight. June pulled her phone out and opened up a browser with the new FOCL library petition. Seven hundred and eighty-nine signatures, it said.
She allowed herself a small smile, slipped the phone back in her pocket, and carried on with her work.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
June watched the man, in his mid-twenties and dressed unseasonably in warm clothes, as he slumped in the corner, playing on his phone. He had barely looked up from the screen in the past hour, absorbed in whatever game he was playing. His skin was pale, like he didn’t go outside much, and June had decided that he was a vampire hiding out in the library to avoid the blazing sun. Earlier he’d eaten some roast beef crisps, so clearly he was craving meat. Any minute now he was going to throw his phone aside and walk over toward Vera, who would look up at him in alarm. He would lean forward and open his mouth and then say—
“This is a public library, not a knocking shop!”
Marjorie was marching two red-faced teenagers out of the toilet. “I know it’s hot outside, but you’ll have to find somewhere else to go.” She led them to the front door and then watched as they scurried away hand in hand.
It was late August, and a heat wave had brought Chalcot to a standstill. The hanging baskets on the Parade had long since wilted, the shop sold out of ice cream within hours of each new delivery, and a hosepipe ban was driving all the gardeners crazy. The coolest building in the village was the library, where the thick stone walls and high ceilings made the temperature almost bearable.
As a result, it was also the busiest building in the village. When June unlocked the door every morning, she found Stanley joined by a queue of impatient pensioners who’d barge past her to claim the prime real estate of a window seat. They stayed there all day, fanning themselves with leaflets from the rack, complaining about their swollen ankles, and demanding cups of water. When she wasn’t running errands for them, June was in the Children’s Room acting as amateur entertainer to dozens of restless little ones while their parents and carers stared listlessly at their phones.
Marjorie came to join June at the desk. “Are you still going into Winton this afternoon?”
“I’m not sure I can face it in this heat. Do you need me to do an extra shift here?”
“No. I need three silver cake platters from the catering shop on Winton high street. Can you collect them for me and drop them back here?”
“Okay.”
“Gayle has announced that as well as the main wedding cake she also wants cupcakes, so now I have to bake one hundred of those on top of everything else.”
June busied herself with some stock so she wouldn’t have to engage in conversation about the wedding. The thought of that hen do still made her whole body ache with humiliation two weeks later.
“By the way, do you know what those so-called Friends of Chalcot Library are up to?” Marjorie said. “They’ve been suspiciously quiet since those bloody posters.”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, keep your ear to the ground. I don’t want any more nasty surprises.”
* * *
• • •
At midday, June left the library and caught the bus, disembarking on Winton high street into a sea of shoppers and pedestrians. She hated crowds at the best of times, let alone in this weather, but she put her head down and forced herself to join them. All she needed was to collect Marjorie’s cake trays and pop to M&S to buy her usual value pack of plain white high-legged briefs, and then she could catch the bus back.
As she made her way up the high street, June noticed a shop to her left that she’d not spotted before. It had a purple frontage and in the window was a mannequin wearing some black underwear. It was much fancier than the kind of thing June wore and probably twice the price. But, on the plus side, it would save her another ten minutes jostling in the crowds all the way to M&S. June swerved left and headed in.
“Hey, can I help you?” a young woman with facial piercings greeted June as she walked through the door.
“Thanks, but I’m just browsing,” June said. She moved into the shop, but the assistant followed her.
“We’ve got fifteen percent off all toys at the moment, so you’ve come at the perfect time.”
June hadn’t realized she was in a toy shop. She looked around her for the first time and her eyes fell on a display holding dozens of boxes containing what looked like lipsticks. She picked one up and almost dropped it on the floor. “Jesus, is that a—?”
“That’s the seven-speed purple python. It’s one of our bestsellers.”
June was so surprised that she didn’t know where to look.
“We’ve also got a two-for-one on the vibrating bullet.” The girl offered her a small spherical object.
“Sorry, I thought this was an underwear shop.”
“We’ve got lingerie too. Over here.” The assistant led her to a rail behind them where a selection of lacy underwear was hanging up. With relief June spo
tted a pair of plain-looking white knickers and picked them up, only to see that they didn’t have a crotch.
“I’m guessing you’re new to all of this. The beaded rabbit is a good entry-level toy,” the girl said, handing June a box containing a giant pink object.
June was desperate to get out of the shop, but she didn’t know how to politely escape from this overenthusiastic sales assistant, who was now approaching her with a terrifying-looking silver object. “I’ll just take these, please,” June said, thrusting the crotchless knickers toward her.
“Great choice. There’s a matching peephole bra and suspenders, if you’d like to get those too?”
“This will be fine, thanks.”
“Would you like a loyalty card? You get—”
“It’s okay, thanks. I’ve got to run. Thanks so much for your help.” June grabbed the purple bag and sprinted out of the shop. As she did her body collided with someone walking past.
“Well, I never . . .”
June looked up to see Linda grinning at her, her eyebrows raised. “Good for you, love.”
“I thought it was an underwear shop,” June blurted out.
“Buy anything nice?” Linda was eyeing the bag in her hand. “Tell me, is it something for you? Or a present for Alex?”
“Stop it!” June shrieked, and Linda threw back her head in laughter.
“Oh, I wish you could see your face now. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink while you cool down.” She led June across the road and into a coffee shop. “You find a table and I’ll grab us some teas.”
June found them a spot by the window. She’d never been in here before and it was cavernous, with wooden floors and exposed brickwork. Dozens of people were sitting at small tables, chatting or working on their laptops. It was smart, but June preferred the independent café up the road, with its mismatched sofas and eccentric proprietor.
“Here, I got us a piece of cake too,” Linda said, putting the tray down on the table.
“Thanks, Linda, you’re my savior once again.”
“I’m glad I bumped into you. I keep meaning to pop round.”
“What’s Alan Bennett done now?”
“It’s not him. I noticed this in the window of the village shop the other day and thought it might be of interest to you.” Linda rummaged around in her handbag and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, handing it to June.
Do you have any old books you no longer need?
Cherry Tree Retirement Home is in desperate need of secondhand books for our residents.
All genres welcome.
“I just thought this could be a great home for some of your mum’s old books,” Linda said.
“Thanks,” June said, stuffing the flyer into her bag before Linda could say anything else.
“So, how’s it going with Alex? Have you had another date?”
“It wasn’t a date. I told you, we’re just friends.”
“That’s a shame. He’s so handsome—don’t you fancy him?”
“No,” June said, not looking Linda in the eye. “Besides, he has a girlfriend.”
“Are you sure? George never mentioned one, and I’ve grilled him about Alex.”
“He definitely does.” June skewered a piece of carrot cake with vehemence.
“Has Alex told you about her?”
“No, but I heard her on the phone.”
Linda frowned. “Weird. I wonder why he’d keep her a secret from everyone. Maybe she’s really ugly or stupid or something.”
“Linda, you can’t say that! I’m sure she’s beautiful and smart.” June pictured a tall woman with long silky hair and a husky voice, wearing a sexy black dress. She imagined her and Alex together on a date, laughing about that stupid girl in Chalcot who had no friends or life. June stuffed a large forkful of cake in her mouth.
“Oh, well, that’s a shame. Still, there are plenty more fish in the sea. You know my Martin is single again?”
June could feel Linda’s eyes on her; she’d been trying to set June up with her youngest son ever since they were teenagers. June picked up her mug to take a drink so she wouldn’t have to reply. But as she went to take a sip, she caught sight of the logo on the side of the cup. At first glance it looked like a red swirl, but when she looked at it closer, she could see it was two intertwined C’s. June stared at it, trying to place where she’d seen this image before.
“No!” she said, slamming the mug down.
“What? Martin’s not that bad, is he?”
“This image—is it for this café?”
“Of course. It’s the Cuppa Coffee logo.”
“Cuppa Coffee. Oh my god.”
“What’s wrong, love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
June pictured the Mrs. Coulter look-alike she’d seen in the library all those months ago. “I’ve seen this logo before, on the clipboard of a woman at the library.”
“So what?” Linda said.
“She was meeting with Marjorie and I thought she was a management consultant, but what if she wasn’t? What if she works for Cuppa Coffee?”
“I’m sorry, love, I’m not following you.”
June looked at Linda, her eyes wide. “I hope I’m wrong, Linda, but I think Cuppa Coffee might be trying to buy Chalcot Library.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When June arrived at the library an hour later, she expected to find the place in an uproar, but it was as calm as ever. There was no sign of Mrs. B or Stanley, and when June checked her phone there was still no reply to the message she’d sent from Matilda. Perhaps they’d not seen it yet?
“About time,” Marjorie said, joining June by the door. “Did you get me those cake trays?”
“I’m so sorry. I forgot.”
“For god’s sake, I asked you to do one simple task . . .” Marjorie rolled her eyes. “I’ll go and get them now, so you’ll have to close up on your own.”
June watched her march out of the building. Was Marjorie really involved in a plot to close the library? June had spent the whole bus ride back from Winton wondering about this. On the one hand it seemed an absurd idea: Marjorie had worked at the library for thirty years, and however annoying the woman might be, she’d always seemed devoted to the place. But June had seen Marjorie and the Cuppa Coffee woman here together, heard them discussing the building. And she’d overheard Marjorie’s husband talking about bribing county councillors about something. What if Brian and Marjorie were working to get the library closed so a Cuppa Coffee could open here instead? June had said all this in her Twitter messages to FOCL, so why weren’t Mrs. Bransworth and Stanley here now kicking up a fuss?
The rest of the afternoon crept by. June tried to focus on her work, but she couldn’t concentrate and kept checking her phone. At five o’clock, the last of the visitors left, and June was shutting down the computers when she heard the sound of the front door opening.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” she called out, but when she turned around, Stanley was standing in the doorway. June was about to blurt out her news about Cuppa Coffee, before remembering that he still had no idea she was Matilda.
“Don’t mind me. You carry on as you are,” Stanley said, and he walked over to his chair and sat down, placing a bag at his feet.
“Um, it’s closing time,” June said. “You need to leave.” Something about the serene expression on Stanley’s face was making her nervous.
“I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere, my dear.”
“What do you mean?”
Stanley glanced around the library. “Is Marjorie here?”
“No, it’s just me.”
“Well, in that case, I suppose I’ll have to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Stanley sat up straight in his chair. “As of now, I am officially occupying Chalcot Library.”
<
br /> June did a double take. “What?”
“FOCL have a whistleblower who has informed us that Marjorie and Brian are working with a private corporation to get the library closed. So I’ve decided to occupy the library until the council finally listens to what we have to say.”
“But I can’t let you stay here out of operating hours. Marjorie would kill me.”
“I’ll tell her I hid in the toilet when you locked up. That way you can go home now, and you won’t have anything to do with it.”
June didn’t know how to respond. Surely she’d be sacked for gross misconduct if she left Stanley in the library. But how was she supposed to get him out? He might have been eighty-two, but Stanley was much bigger than her; she could hardly manhandle him out of the building.
“Please, you can’t sleep here. Can you find another way to protest?”
He gave her a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry, but I can’t walk away and let the library be sold out from under our feet.”
June looked at him helplessly. “But I can’t just leave you here.”
“Don’t worry, I shall look after this place as if it were my own home.”
“But Marjorie will—”
“Never mind Marjorie,” Stanley interrupted. “Sometimes we have to break the rules if we care about something, June. And I care a great deal about Chalcot Library.”
June paused, paralyzed with indecision. Should she call Marjorie and warn her? But then Marjorie would demand that June get Stanley out, or blame her for this happening. Perhaps the easiest thing was just to leave Stanley here overnight and let Marjorie deal with him in the morning.
Reluctantly, June went to the office to get her bag. When she came back out, he was still sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper.
“Do you really have to do this, Stanley?”
He looked up from the paper. “I’m afraid so, my dear. But I’ll make sure none of this reflects badly on you.”
The Last Chance Library Page 12