The Last Chance Library

by Freya Sampson

  Alex was watching her with a pained expression. “Are you sure you want to go, after what happened at the hen do?”

  Was she sure? It would be so much easier to carry on hiding at home, never putting herself out there or taking any risks. “Yes, I’m sure. This feels like my last chance to try to do something to save the library.”

  “When is the wedding?”

  “A week from Saturday.”

  “Well, I’m happy to be your plus one, if you want some moral support?”

  June was so surprised by the offer that she stuffed a piece of beef into her mouth. Within seconds the heat exploded on her tongue like a fireball and she let out a gasp, making Alex jump.

  “I mean, only if you want me to,” he said. “As a friend, you know . . .” He was blushing now, but June was too busy necking her glass of water to notice.

  “Great, thanks,” she said, trying to stop her tongue from hanging out of her mouth in agony.

  “I’d better get going.” Alex stood up and headed toward the door. “Careful of that beef, some bits can be quite spicy. And water won’t help; eat some rice instead.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  June slammed the door shut, ran back into the kitchen, and started shoveling rice into her mouth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  June stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. She’d bought the dress, which the lady in the shop had described as “burnt umber,” in a panicked shopping trip yesterday. It had a red and gold pattern down the front, and in the changing room June had hoped it looked classy and sophisticated. Now, in the unforgiving light of her bedroom, she realized she looked a like a tube of Rolos. She twisted her hair into a French braid and went downstairs. Alan was sitting in the hallway smirking.

  “Do I look that bad? I know these shoes aren’t perfect . . .” She looked down at her black heels, which she’d last worn to her mum’s funeral.

  Alan licked his bottom in response.

  In the kitchen, June poured another glass of wine, surprised to see she’d drunk half a bottle already. Why had she said she’d go to this stupid wedding? The thought of seeing all those women from the hen do had kept her awake all night. Plus, they were bound to have worked out by now that it was June who’d diverted the stripper, and they’d be furious about that. This was a terrible idea.

  June heard the sound of a car pulling up, so she drained the last of her wine and stepped outside. Alex was standing beside the car, holding the front passenger door open. His usual T-shirt and jeans had been replaced by a smart gray suit and a bright blue tie, his messy hair brushed back. June had never seen him look so stylish, and she felt self-conscious under his gaze as she walked up the path.

  “You look lovely,” Alex said as she reached the car.

  June felt herself blush, and she mumbled a thank-you as she climbed into the passenger’s seat.

  They drove in silence, both staring out the windscreen. June felt light-headed; why was she putting herself through this? She still hadn’t worked out what she was going to say to Marjorie and Brian. She wanted to ask Alex his opinion, but every time she glanced over at him, she felt oddly tongue-tied.

  They arrived at Marjorie and Brian’s house and Alex pulled into a field signposted for parking. The guests who’d been invited for the whole day had parked their cars long ago, and the grass had been churned up into thick mud. As June got out of the car her heels sank into the ground.

  “Agh, help!”

  “Are you okay?” Alex rushed around to her side of the car.

  “I’m sinking,” June said, feeling her shoes slipping under the mud.

  “Let me help you.” Alex took her arm gently, but June was stuck fast.

  “You’re going to need to pull harder,” she said, mortified.

  He held her elbow and began to tug. For a moment June wobbled, and then her feet came free with a loud squelch and she tumbled against him. Alex steadied her and then took her hand, helping June through the mud to the road. She tried not to fall over, but she was acutely aware of the tingling heat of his palm against hers. When they reached the road, she expected Alex to let go immediately, but he didn’t. June felt a flush of pleasure at the contact; then she remembered Ellie and pulled her hand away.

  “Look at the state of me,” she said, looking down at her mud-stained shoes and ankles.

  “Never fear—I was a Boy Scout, so I’m always prepared.” Alex pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket with a flourish, and then to June’s horror he bent down and began to wipe the mud off her feet.

  “Don’t be silly. I can do that,” she yelped, but he carried on. It felt strangely intimate to have him cleaning her feet, and June’s skin was burning.

  “Well, it’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do,” Alex said, standing up. They both surveyed her brown feet and shoes.

  “Thank you,” June said, and her voice sounded strange. “Shall we go?”

  Distant music floated toward them as they approached the mock-Georgian house. Matching topiary hedges lined the gravel drive, and the front door was guarded by two pillars.

  “No guests inside the house.” A man in a high-viz jacket came rushing toward them. “I’m sorry, only VIP guests are allowed in there. Please go round the side instead.”

  They walked round to the back garden, where a giant blancmange-like marquee had been erected in the middle of the lawn. A waiter approached them with a tray of drinks; June took a lethal-looking cocktail and Alex a glass of water. Guests were milling around them on the grass, laughing with the noisy exuberance of people who’d been drinking all day.

  “God, look at this,” Alex said, surveying the scene. “It’s like something out of The Great Gatsby, and I don’t mean that in a good way.”

  June laughed at the reference and felt another flush of pleasure at being here with Alex, all dressed up and drinking cocktails. Then she remembered the reason why they’d come. “Shall we go into the marquee and see if Brian or Marjorie are there?”

  Inside the tent, there must have been at least twenty round tables, each groaning under the weight of huge vases of pink lilies. Some of the older guests were still sitting at the tables, shouting their conversations over the roar of the music. At the far side there was a dance floor under a giant disco ball, packed with drunken bodies flailing to “Come on Eileen.”

  June surveyed the room. “I can’t see either of them.”

  “Can you recognize anyone from the council?” Alex said.

  June was about to say no when she caught sight of a man over on the other side of the marquee, deep in conversation with an older woman. “Oh my god, it’s him.”

  “Who?”

  June looked again in case she’d made a mistake, but it was definitely him: tall, square-jawed, the white-blond hair.

  “It’s Draco Malfoy.”

  Alex didn’t respond, and when June turned to look, he was staring at her with a weird expression. “O-kay. I think you’ve maybe had enough to drink.”

  “What?”

  “Seriously, if you’re seeing villains from kids’ books, then you probably need to stick to water tonight.”

  “No! Draco is my name for one of the guys I saw with Brian that night you and I were in the Chequers. He was the one who was talking about the council and greasing the wheels.”

  “Oh, I see. But why would they invite him to the wedding?”

  “I guess they must be trying to impress him.”

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.” The woman who’d been dressed as Wonder Woman at Gayle’s hen do had stepped between June and Alex, extending her hand to him. “I’m Isabelle.”

  “Hi, I’m Alex.”

  “Enchanté, Alex. How do you know the happy couple?”

  “
I’m here with June.”

  Isabelle noticed June for the first time. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Actually, we’ve met before,” June said, surprising herself.

  “Really? I don’t remember you.”

  “We sat next to each other at Gayle’s hen do.”

  Isabelle paused, obviously trying to place June, and her face split into a grin. “Oh my god, you’re the virgin!”

  She let out a burst of laugher and June cringed. She glanced at Alex and saw a look of surprise cross his face, although he quickly hid it.

  “God, I’m amazed you came after that,” Isabelle said, still laughing.

  June forced herself to smile. “We were wondering, who’s that?” She pointed across the room to where Draco was now standing in the middle of a group of guys, all braying.

  “Which one?” Isabelle said.

  “The one in the middle, over there. With the white-blond hair.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t know who he is?” She looked at them both in astonishment. “That’s Rupe.”

  “Who?”

  “Rupert. You know, the groom? Gayle’s new husband?”

  It took June a moment to register what Isabelle had said. “That’s Gayle’s husband?”

  Isabelle ignored her and fluttered her eyelashes at Alex. “Do you fancy a dance?”

  “Wait. Do you know what Gayle’s husband does for a living?” June said.

  Isabelle looked at June in annoyance. “What a strange question. I think Gayle said he has something to do with property acquisitions.” She turned to Alex again. “Your glass is empty. Joan, could you be a darling and fetch us a drink? We’ll have champers.”

  June saw Alex open his mouth to protest, but in her shock she turned and walked toward the drinks table, her brain whirring. If Draco Malfoy was Gayle’s husband, did that mean his pub conversation with Brian was simply an innocent chat between father and son-in-law? Then why the talk of councillors and greasing wheels? June picked up another cocktail and took a long swig as she tried to fit the puzzle pieces together.

  “What’s that on your shoes?” June jumped as Marjorie stepped in next to her.

  “Mud, sorry,” June said, trying to discreetly wipe them on the long tablecloth.

  “I can’t believe you had the nerve to turn up here after all the fuss you’ve caused at the library,” Marjorie said, wrinkling her nose. “Do you have any idea of the headaches you’ve given me? And on top of all of this . . .” She signaled around her at the marquee.

  “It’s a beautiful wedding, Marjorie.”

  “The decorators completely messed up. We were meant to have blush pink ribbons on the seat covers and they put on flamingo pink ones instead. Gayle was so upset she nearly canceled the whole thing.”

  June looked at the tiny bows that Marjorie was pointing at. “I think it looks lovely.”

  Marjorie’s eyes were scanning the tent and June noticed she was wringing her hands.

  She took another slug of her drink. This was it, her chance. “Marjorie, there’s something I need to ask you.”

  “Oh no, what are the caterers doing now?” Marjorie said, as two waiters in white uniforms placed a huge tiered cheese board down on the table next to them. “That isn’t meant to come out until nine. It’s only eight thirty.”

  “Who does your son-in-law work for?” June said.

  “I don’t know, some American food-and-beverage company. Why are they putting the cheese here? It goes on the back table. Why must everyone—”

  “Does he have anything to do with Cuppa Coffee?”

  “And the grapes are meant to be green, not red. Christ, this is a disaster. I need to speak to the catering manager.” Marjorie started to walk off, but June grabbed her arm. Her boss looked at her in surprise. “What are you doing?”

  “Marjorie . . .” June’s voice faltered. “Are you and Brian involved in a plot to close the library?”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I saw Brian in the pub with Rupert. I think they were talking about bribing councillors to let someone buy the building. They mentioned you.”

  “That’s absolute nonsense. You and your imagination, June.”

  “And I saw you showing a woman round the library and she had a clipboard with a Cuppa Coffee logo on it.” June saw Marjorie go pale. “How could you do it, Marjorie? I thought you loved the library.”

  “Of course I love the library,” Marjorie hissed. “You’ve always lived in a fantasyland, but this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. That woman I showed round was a management consultant.”

  “Then why did she have the Cuppa Coffee logo on her clipboard?”

  “I don’t know—maybe it was a free gift?”

  “And why did she come back to secretly visit you early one morning before the library opened? What are you trying to hide, Marjorie?”

  “Look, Brian asked me to keep the management consultant’s visit quiet for this very reason, to stop people getting carried away with mad conspiracy theories. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s my daughter’s wedding.” She turned to walk away again.

  June took a deep breath. “Are you and Brian receiving money from Rupert’s company to help them buy the library building and turn it into a Cuppa Coffee?”

  Marjorie spun round, a look of disbelief on her face. “Now, this is outrageous!” Her voice had risen, and several people turned to look.

  “What’s going on here?” Brian walked over to them. “People are staring at you, Marjorie.”

  “June here is making the most scandalous accusations. She says that you and Rupert are involved in some dodgy scam around selling off the library building. I’ve a good mind to throw her out but I don’t want to make a . . .” Marjorie stopped talking as she saw Brian had turned a dark shade of purple.

  “What have you been saying?” he said to June.

  “I saw you and Rupert in the pub back in July,” June said. “I heard your conversation.”

  Brian gave a small forced laugh. “So what? A man having a pint with his future son-in-law is hardly illegal.”

  “There was another man there too, and you told them you had the power to convince people on the council. They discussed giving you money.”

  “What’s she talking about, Brian?” Marjorie said.

  “It was about the library, wasn’t it?” June said.

  “This is all absolute nonsense,” Brian said.

  June was aware that people around them had stopped talking and were listening in, but for once she didn’t care.

  “And what about that woman you got Marjorie to show around the library? She works for Cuppa Coffee, doesn’t she?”

  “You told me she was a management consultant,” Marjorie said, taking hold of Brian’s arm. From the look on her face, June could tell she wasn’t pretending. “Brian, what on earth is going on?”

  “Oh, be quiet, dear,” he said, brushing her off. “I’m not standing here listening to these lies anymore. June has no proof of anything.”

  “Oh my god, the money for the wedding!” Marjorie said, her eyes wide.

  “Now, dear—” Brian started, reaching for her, but Marjorie stepped away from him.

  “I asked you where that extra money came from to pay for all of this and you wouldn’t tell me. Brian, what have you done?”

  “For god’s sake, woman,” he said. “You’re retiring at Christmas—what difference does it make?”

  “All this time you’ve been telling me to relax, that you were working behind the scenes to save the library. And you’ve been the one trying to get it closed!”

  A large group had now gathered to watch, and Brian lowered his voice to a hiss.

  “Look, I can’t affect the decision the council makes about the library. But if it does close, and Rupert
’s company does buy the building, there’s no harm in you and me benefiting from that, is there?” He went to put his arm around Marjorie’s shoulder, but she lurched backward.

  “Get away from me!” She made no effort to keep her voice down.

  “How did you expect me to pay for all of this?” Brian said. “You told me you wanted this wedding to be the biggest Chalcot has ever seen. Do you have any idea how much all of this costs?”

  Marjorie looked like she was fighting back tears. “I’ve turned a blind eye over the years. But this . . . my library . . .”

  “Mum, Dad, what’s going on?” They all turned to see Gayle approaching, wearing a long crystal-encrusted wedding dress. Rupert was following her, his eyes narrowed. “We can hear you all the way from the gazebo.”

  “It’s nothing, pumpkin, just a little disagreement,” Brian said.

  “Mum?”

  “Did you know?” Marjorie said to her.

  “Know what?”

  “About this deal between Daddy and Rupert. About the library.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gayle’s confused expression made it clear that she had no idea either.

  “We should talk about this later,” said Rupert, taking Gayle’s arm and trying to steer her away. “Right now, I’d like a dance with my new wife.”

  “They’ve been plotting to get the library closed so Rupert’s company can open a coffee shop there. All of this”—Marjorie indicated around them—“has been paid for by dirty money your father got from Cuppa Coffee.”

  “What? Dad, is this true?” Gayle said.

  “Look, let’s all talk about this tomorrow, shall we?” Brian said. “I think your mother is getting a little worked up; it’s been a very exciting day for her.”

  Gayle nodded, but she was still frowning.

  “Honestly, Marjorie, stop making such a fuss,” Brian said, shaking his head as he started to walk away. “It’s only a little library. You don’t need to—”

  “A little library!” Marjorie roared, with such force that everyone stopped. “I’ve worked for that library for thirty years, dedicated my life to it. And you dismiss it like that means nothing. You lying, cheating . . .”