The Last Chance Library

by Freya Sampson

  “Bloody Cuppa Coffee,” Mrs. B said, and June nudged her to keep quiet.

  “Thank you, Councillor Pyke. Does anyone else have anything they’d like to add before we take a vote?” an authoritative female voice said. “Yes, Councillor Donnelly.”

  June felt the color draining from her face. Richard Donnelly.

  “Thank you, Madam Chair. I’d like to address the recent events at this library, which as you all know have gained significant local and national publicity.”

  June felt something on her hand and looked down to see Mrs. B gripping it with her own.

  “Whilst all of us here appreciate how passionately local communities feel about this issue, we can’t ignore the fact that campaigners in Chalcot engaged in illegal activity with their occupation and criminal damage to the library premises.”

  “I was under the impression that no criminal charges were made,” the chairwoman interrupted. “Was I misinformed?”

  “Um, no, that’s correct. But there was considerable alteration to the interior of the library,” Richard said.

  “The lying shit,” Mrs. B said. “I’ll kill him.”

  “My concern is if that if we vote to keep this library open, it might look as if the council can be bullied, or blackmailed even, by actions such as the protest in Chalcot. And I worry what kind of message that would send out to other local interest groups.”

  “Are you saying that we should close Chalcot Library as what . . . a punishment because they protested?” the female voice from earlier said. June had no idea who it was, but she wanted to high-five her.

  “No, Alice, of course not,” Richard said. “But I do think we should be aware of the optics on this one.”

  “Thank you, Councillor Donnelly,” the chairwoman said. “Now, if everyone has had their say, I think we should take a vote on Chalcot Library.”

  June could hear the blood racing in her ears. This was really about to happen; the council were about to vote on the future of her mum’s library.

  Stanley’s library.

  Her library.

  “Wait!”

  June stood up and looked down onto the chamber floor. Dozens of faces turned to stare up at her, and June felt a wave of vertigo. “I need to say something.”

  “How did she get up there?” A red-faced man was pointing up at her. “Send security up there now.”

  “I’m sorry, no unscheduled questions,” the chairwoman said.

  “Please. My name is June Jones and I’m the assistant at Chalcot Library.”

  “If this is about your suspension, Miss Jones, then we’ve already decided to reinstate you,” the chairwoman said.

  “It’s not that.” June felt light-headed. What the hell was she doing? This was the kind of crazy thing her mum would have done, but there was no way June could speak in front of all these people. Her mind was blank, and she stared up at the ceiling above her head, domed and gilded, and closed her eyes. She remembered Mrs. Bransworth’s words during the occupation. I’m never scared when I’m fighting for something I know is right. She thought of her mum standing at the school gates, a one-woman picket line. An image of Stanley floated into June’s mind, smiling at her calmly from behind the library door as the police tried to evict him.

  She opened her eyes and looked down at the council chamber below.

  “Today, I went to the funeral of a friend of mine, Stanley Phelps. If any of you have ever been to Chalcot Library, you’d probably have seen him there. He used to wear a suit every day and he’d read the paper in his favorite chair. He was a quiet man, polite and unobtrusive.”

  June saw Richard Donnelly glaring up at her, his eyes bulging. She swallowed.

  “When you all threatened to close our library, Stanley became involved in the campaign to save it. He went to every meeting and volunteered to be the group treasurer. And then one day he decided to occupy the library.”

  “He was a fighter,” Mrs. B shouted from down by June’s feet.

  “I had the privilege of being Stanley’s friend, so I came to understand a bit about why the library was so important to him. You see, despite his smart appearance and friendly manner, Stanley had a difficult past.”

  In the distance June could hear raised voices. Sam must be on his way.

  “Stanley had done some things he deeply regretted and lost people he loved. But he told me that however bad things had been, whatever mistakes he made, there had always been somewhere that he could go. A place where no one would judge him, where he would be treated with respect and kindness. He described libraries as a safety net that always caught him.”

  “Where the hell are security?” Richard Donnelly said.

  “Stanley helped me to understand something invaluable. You see, libraries aren’t just about books. They’re places where an eight-year-old boy can have his eyes opened up to the wonders of the world, and where a lonely eighty-year-old woman can come for some vital human contact. Where a teenager can find precious quiet space to do her homework and a recently arrived immigrant can find a new community. Libraries are places where everyone, rich or poor, wherever they come from in the world, can feel safe. Where they can access information that will empower them.”

  Behind her, June heard a door swing open and the sound of feet walking in.

  “A mobile library might still provide books, but it can never be the heart of a community. So please, when you vote on these six libraries, think of all the people out there like Stanley. You may not realize it now, but without libraries, every single one of us will suffer.”

  There was a stunned silence. June felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Sam standing next to her. Behind him were two panting men.

  “I’m sorry. You have to leave now,” he said.

  June glanced back down at the floor below. Everyone was still staring up at her. Her eyes fell on one dark-haired woman, who discreetly raised her hand in a thumbs-up. Then June felt Sam pull on her arm, and she turned and let him lead her away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “Three cheers for Stanley!”

  They were in the Plough, eating the buffet the owner had thrown together when they arrived.

  “I’m impressed with you making that speech,” Vera said to June, a sherry in one hand and a pork pie in the other. “I wish I could have seen that Donnelly’s face—he must have been livid.”

  “I’m not sure it’ll make any difference, but I’m glad I said something,” June said. “I’ve spent too long being scared of speaking up.”

  “You were fantastic,” Mrs. B said, slapping June on the back.

  “Vera was amazing too,” said Alex.

  Vera beamed. “I told them, I’m eighty years old and eighteen stone—you’re not getting past me without a fight. And you know what? That security boy Sam gave me a wink and told those councillor men that he couldn’t manhandle a pensioner.”

  “Good for you, Vera,” June said.

  “Oh, Stanley would have loved to have been there today,” Chantal said, and everyone went quiet.

  “Well, he was certainly there in spirit, thanks to June’s speech,” Alex said.

  Vera was nodding. “Surely there’s no way they can vote to close the library now?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” June said. “For now, let’s focus on celebrating Stanley’s life. Do you remember how he used to do the newspaper crossword in pencil and then rub it out so Marjorie wouldn’t tell him off?”

  Everyone laughed.

  “He used to recommend me books to read,” Jackson said.

  “He helped me with my schoolwork,” Chantal said. “He spent hours explaining the Russian Revolution to me.”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t have a clue how to work a computer,” Mrs. B said with a chuckle. “Poor June, I must have heard him ask you a hundred times how to log on.”

  J
une smiled, but she thought of all those unsent e-mails.

  “Do you remember that news interview he did during the occupation, when he said he needed to use the library computers for surfing?” Alex pulled out his mobile phone and soon they were all laughing as they watched the clip.

  “Look, it’s been viewed more than two hundred thousand times,” Chantal said. “Turns out Stanley was an Internet star and we never even knew it.”

  More drinks were consumed as everyone carried on sharing their favorite stories about Stanley. After a while, June slipped away and went to sit at a table outside. The rain had stopped, and the sun was fighting through the late-September clouds. She felt drained after everything that had happened today. And why wasn’t there any news from the council? It was almost two hours since she’d been pulled out of the chamber by an apologetic Sam. Surely the meeting couldn’t still be going on.

  “Do you mind if I join you?”

  June looked up to see Alex standing a few feet away. “Sure.”

  She shuffled along and he sat down on the damp bench next to her.

  “Well done for making that speech,” he said.

  “I felt such an idiot standing up there with everyone staring at me.”

  “But you did it. You put yourself out there and did the one thing that terrified you most.”

  They were both quiet for a moment.

  “June, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  She looked over at Alex, his face serious. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Well, I guess my timing is . . . the timing’s terrible.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s something I’ve been trying to tell you for a while, and I need to say it now.”

  June’s heart sank. As if today couldn’t get any worse, now this. “Please, you don’t need to explain anything. I understand.”

  “I’m not sure you do, June.”

  “But I do, Alex. I know about Ellie.”

  His head swiveled to look at her. “Ellie? How?”

  “I’ve known for months.”

  “Who told you about her? Was it Stanley?”

  “No, I saw a message from her on your phone and I know you were together when I called you in London. Why didn’t you just tell me you had a girlfriend?”

  “Hang on, Ellie is my—”

  “Does she know I tried to kiss you?” June asked, cringing. “I’m so sorry I did that, Alex. It was totally out of order. I was drunk and it was a huge mistake.”

  There were a few seconds of silence. “A mistake?”

  “Of course. I don’t see you in that way. I mean, you’re a friend but I don’t fancy you or anything.” June forced a laugh and then wished she hadn’t. It didn’t sound remotely real.

  She looked over to Alex, expecting him to look relieved now it was all out in the open. But instead he was staring at his pint, looking utterly defeated. When he spoke again, he didn’t look at her.

  “June, the thing I need to tell you is that I’m moving back to London.”

  She felt as if someone had given her a karate kick to the chest, knocking all the wind out of her.

  “Dad’s better now and doesn’t need my help at the takeaway, and I need to get back to my job.”

  “Of course,” she said, trying to keep her voice level.

  “My sabbatical’s over and I start work again on Monday, so I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m sorry to just spring this on you, but when I tried to tell you before, you changed the subject.”

  “I’m happy for you, Alex. I bet you can’t wait to get back to your normal life.”

  June couldn’t bear to look at him, so she stared across the road toward the library. She’d always known Alex would leave at some point, but she’d never expected the news to hurt like this. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry in front of him.

  When she opened them again, she saw a figure running past the front of the library, a large handbag swinging from her side.

  “Wait, isn’t that Marjorie?” June stood up and waved at her. “Marjorie. Marjorie! She’s going into the pub.”

  June rushed inside, leaving Alex sitting at the table. She arrived at the group as Marjorie came bursting in. Everyone stopped talking.

  “What’s the news?” June said.

  Marjorie was bent over, panting from the running.

  “For Christ’s sake, spit it out,” Mrs. B said.

  Marjorie straightened up. “The meeting just finished. They’ve made their decision.”

  “And?”

  “They’re closing all six libraries, including Chalcot.”

  June stared. “What?”

  “They’re closing it in eight weeks’ time. We’re getting a mobile library instead, once a fortnight.”

  “We lost,” Chantal said.

  “After June got taken away, the place was in an uproar. They debated Chalcot for another half an hour, but in the end the vote went twenty-five to twenty-four in favor of closing it.”

  “My god,” said Vera.

  “That’s not all. At the end they said the council will be entering into discussions with private buyers about the Chalcot Library premises, with the aim to sell it off in order to make up some of the budget deficit. It looks like Cuppa Coffee will get the building.”

  June felt something inside her crumble. “It’s over.”

  They all stared at one another in stunned silence. Jackson was sitting with his head in his hands, and tears were running down Chantal’s cheeks.

  “I’m just glad Stanley wasn’t around to see this,” Mrs. B said quietly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  When June arrived at the library, there was a council van parked outside, two men in overalls leaning against it, their breath misty in the November cold. She walked into the building and found Marjorie shouting into the phone.

  “But this is ridiculous! I told you yesterday that we can’t manage without them . . . I don’t care if they need them in New Cowley; we still have a library to run here.” Marjorie slammed the phone down with force.

  “What is it today?” June said.

  “The carousels. Can you believe the cheek of it? I told those two clowns, if they touch anything from my library, then I’m liable to use violence against them, so help me god.”

  “They’re only doing their job, Marjorie.”

  “But we’re open until five o’clock tomorrow. How am I supposed to run a library with half my equipment missing?”

  June walked through to the back and hung her coat up. It had been like this all week. On Monday they’d taken the sofa from the Children’s Room, and June had hidden in the toilets so no one would see her cry, and on Tuesday they carried out several of the racks. On Wednesday they’d come back for the returns trolley, and June and Marjorie had watched from the window as the men tried to load it onto the back of the van. But the trolley had other ideas and kept veering off toward the pub, causing the men to curse in frustration. It had been the first time June had laughed in weeks.

  She made two cups of tea and took one out to Marjorie. “Do you remember I’m going at lunchtime today?”

  “Sure.” Marjorie was still glaring out the window at the van.

  June went to switch the computers on. She felt bad leaving Marjorie on her own when there was so much work still to be done, but she had no option. This afternoon, for the first time in her life, June had a job interview. It was for a library assistant role in Kent, and June had been preparing for it all week—a welcome distraction from the pain she felt every time she thought about the library closing tomorrow.

  “It’s ten o’clock,” Marjorie called across to her. “Open up, will you?”

  June walked to the front door and unlocked it. Jackson had now replaced Stanley as the first to arrive each morning, and
as she opened the door she found him standing on the front step, wrapped up in a duffel coat and scarf against the cold.

  “Morning,” he said as he strolled toward the desk.

  “Morning, Jackson. Chilly today, isn’t it?”

  The boy heaved the satchel off his shoulder, and it hit the ground with an audible thud. Opening it up, he counted out twelve books and placed them on the desk. “I want to return these, please.”

  “Of course. Did you enjoy Catcher in the Rye? What did you make of Holden Caulfield?”

  “It was good, thanks.” Jackson reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out, placing it on top of the books. “You should have this as well.”

  June looked down and saw it was Jackson’s library card, the edges creased and battered, so well used that most of the print had worn off.

  “You don’t have to give this back—you’ll need it for the mobile library.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not sure I will.”

  “What do you mean?” June tried to keep the panic from her voice. “You know you can still order books and the mobile library will bring them every fortnight.”

  “I’m just not sure I’ll really want to use the library bus,” he said with a shrug. “It won’t be the same, will it?”

  “No, not exactly the same. But you can still—”

  “I’d better go now. We’re going to visit my great-aunt Pauline; she has osteoporosis. Did you know it weakens bones and means they can break really easily?”

  “Is that right?”

  “I looked it up here in the encyclopedia,” he said, and then he turned and walked out the front door.

  June watched him go and bit her lip; she’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry again this week, whatever happened.

  The morning passed quickly. Now that the library was about to close it seemed everyone in the village wanted to use it, and June was rushed off her feet helping people with their inquiries. At midday, she was reshelving when she heard her name being hollered across the room. She looked up to see Mrs. Bransworth and Chantal bowling toward her.