The Telephone Box Library

by Rachael Lucas

  He had decided to head over to Mel’s, and she was now giving him a talking to.

  ‘You need to tell her how you feel.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous.’

  ‘It’s not the right time. I’ve got all this stuff going on with Freya and Stella. Lucy’s about to leave –’

  ‘What makes you think that?’ Mel looked up sharply.

  ‘Car full of boxes is a bit of a giveaway, don’t you think?’

  Mel’s gaze drifted out of the window towards Lucy’s cottage. He followed it, not speaking. They watched as Lucy’s battered little Corsa pulled up outside, and Lucy – dressed smartly in a green patterned dress and knee-length boots – climbed out.

  ‘Looks like she’s been somewhere nice,’ commented Mel, looking at him pointedly.

  ‘And?’

  ‘I suspect she thinks you’re avoiding her.’

  ‘I thought she was avoiding me.’

  ‘You’re a pair of adults behaving more like Freya and Camille. You need your heads banging together. Why don’t you nip over and see her, clear the air?’

  ‘Maybe she thinks what happened was a mistake.’

  Mel shook her head. ‘I think she thinks you think that. Which means that unless you want to throw away one of the best things that’s ever happened to you, you might need to get a grip and start acting like an adult.’

  ‘Thanks, oh wise one.’

  ‘Welcome.’ She gave him a shove. ‘No time like the present.’

  He shook his head. He’d need an hour to shower, find something decent to wear, work out what he was going to say. He couldn’t screw this up.

  Later that evening, he gathered the courage to cross the road and knock on Lucy’s door. Hamish leapt up at the window, barking in greeting, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘If you’re looking for Lucy,’ Bunty said, looking over at him from the rosebush in her garden with two milk bottles in hand, ‘she’s up at Helen’s place, sorting books with Freya. Didn’t she tell you?’

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I forgot about that.’

  He couldn’t face going up to Helen’s. He’d been finishing off the shelving for the telephone box library in recent days, and she’d been hassling him incessantly about the tiniest details.

  ‘Haruumph,’ said Bunty disapprovingly. ‘You’re going to miss the boat, Sam, if you’re not careful. And you’ve only got one life to live. Why not make it a happy one?’

  He nodded, and left. On his way back to his house he took a detour to check on the phone box. Opening the door, he was assailed by the smell of the hanging air freshener Helen had insisted on putting inside. It mingled with the scent of freshly cut wood. He ran a hand along the shelves, feeling for any missed rough patches. It looked very smart now.

  Meanwhile, up at Helen’s house, Lucy and Freya were surveying a pile of books that they’d chosen.

  ‘I can’t understand why we’ve been given six copies of this Riders one.’ Freya lifted up a copy and raised her eyebrows at the image on the front.

  ‘It was very popular at the time, I understand,’ said Helen, disapprovingly. ‘I don’t think it’s the sort of thing we want in the library.’

  ‘I think it’s exactly the sort of thing.’ Lucy giggled. ‘That’s for the yes pile. I bet Susan would appreciate it.’

  Freya flicked open a page and gave a snort of surprise. ‘Oh my God.’ She put it back down again, eyes wide in astonishment.

  ‘Jilly Cooper is an absolute genius,’ said Lucy. ‘It’s a complete classic. I like the next one, Rivals, best, I think – you should read it.’

  By the end of the day, they’d boxed up a selection of books for Helen’s husband David to drop off at the weekend. The library would be operational for the whole month of November, but the official celebratory opening was taking place on the first of December.

  ‘Why do we have to wait so long?’ grumbled Freya as they walked down through the village later that evening.

  ‘Because Helen’s going on holiday to the Maldives for a fortnight, and as chair of the parish council it was agreed –’

  ‘You mean she overruled everyone?’

  ‘Well, yes – that’s what an agreement means, in Helen’s world – that the first weekend in December was a lovely time to do it.’

  ‘She’s unbelievable.’ Freya shook her head.

  ‘She is, but she also gets stuff done. Every village needs someone like her.’ Lucy echoed Sam’s comment, unthinkingly.

  ‘That’s a terrifying prospect.’

  They walked along the lane in darkness. Left over Hallowe’en decorations still hung from the porch of one cottage. The streetlights gave off a pale orange glow, and residents could be seen pottering about inside houses where the curtains were still to be drawn. A little girl peered out of the window of her bedroom, thumb in her mouth. Freya looked up at her and waved.

  A firework squeal made them jump. They both looked up, but couldn’t see a thing – the sky was dark and heavy with clouds.

  ‘I hope it doesn’t rain for the bonfire night tomorrow.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Lucy said goodbye and crossed the road, not looking back as Freya headed inside.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  They hadn’t been joking when they said bonfire night was a big event in Little Maudley. Lucy crunched across the gravel car park of the cricket club, past a pavilion strung with fairy lights and warm with the scent of spiced mulled wine. The bonfire was stacked up and ready to go on the rough ground beyond the cricket pitch. Crowds of people jostled around, holding sticky toffee apples, long scarves wrapped around their necks against the sharp early winter cold.

  ‘You wait here.’

  Mel rushed off to get them both a drink, leaving Lucy taking it all in.

  She couldn’t see anyone she recognized in the darkness. Everyone was wrapped up and disguised with hats and warm coats. She stood by the wooden railings and waited.

  Bunty had been happy to stay at home with Hamish, grumbling that Guy Fawkes had been far nicer when they were young and there weren’t all these loud crashes and bangs which disturbed the animals. Hamish, who agreed, had curled up on the mat beside the fire in Bunty’s sitting room. Mr Darcy, her cat, gave him a beady look through one half-opened eye, but carried on snoozing on the armchair.

  ‘Lovely to see you, Lucy,’ said one of the WI committee members, tapping her on the shoulder. She spun round and smiled hello, but they disappeared into the throng. A little girl looked up at her, smiling a gap-toothed smile.

  ‘I like fireworks. Do you?’

  ‘I do, very much.’

  ‘What’s your favourite?’

  ‘I like the ones that go wheee, then BOOM and make a big explosion of colours in the sky.’

  The little girl nodded solemnly. ‘Me too. And the circle ones that go round and round.’

  ‘Mattie, Daddy says we all have to stick together.’ An older girl, clearly her big sister – they looked almost identical – took her by the hand and pulled her towards a group of children who were standing together with their parents. It was only a second later that Lucy realized Sam – dark curls escaping from underneath a woolly hat – was chatting to the father. The little girl was tugging at his leg. She watched him for a moment, unnoticed. That must be Harvey that he talked about – his friend from school with the hordes of children.

  ‘Harv! If I’d known you two were here I’d have got you a drink as well.’

  Mel appeared behind the two men, shouting hello. Sam bent over to kiss her on the cheek.

  ‘Is that one for me?’ Sam said, reaching out for the mulled wine she was holding.

  ‘It is not.’ Mel pulled her hand away. ‘It’s for Lucy. Who is . . .’ she screwed her eyes against the darkness. The light was shining in her face, so Lucy was silhouetted in the darkness.

  ‘Who is here.’ Lucy stepped out of the shadows.

  ‘Lucy, hi.’ Sam stepped
forward instinctively. For a second she thought he was going to kiss her, too. But he seemed to stop himself and stood awkwardly for a moment. ‘Harvey, this is Lucy, who I mentioned? She’s been staying in Bunty’s little cottage.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you.’ Harvey put out a hand and shook hers. It was harder than you’d think with gloves on.

  ‘Are you friends with my uncle Sam?’ The little girl – Mattie – looked up at her again.

  ‘Yes,’ said Lucy, shooting him a brief look. ‘I am.’

  ‘She is.’ Sam reached down, picking her up. ‘Do you want a carry, little pickle, so you can see the fireworks?’

  ‘Yes please!’

  Sam hoisted her onto his shoulders. She beamed down from her vantage point.

  ‘You can see all the fireworks first,’ Lucy said.

  ‘All of them,’ Mattie nodded. ‘Suspecially our favourite ones.’

  Sam looked at Lucy and mouthed, ‘She is adorable.’

  Lucy nodded.

  People surged forward in a last-minute rush as the first fireworks began. Lucy found herself pressed up against the bars of the wooden fence, with Sam close beside her. Her heart was banging hard against her ribcage and she felt acutely conscious of every movement she made.

  ‘You used to carry me like that.’

  Sam turned, hearing Freya’s voice. She was with Cammie and another couple of girls from the village, and somehow she’d squeezed her way through the crowds to find them. She smiled up at Mattie, who was thoroughly overexcited and who’d pulled off Sam’s hat and was waving it around in the air. His hair was probably sticking up all over the place and making him look ridiculous in front of Lucy, but he couldn’t exactly let go of Mattie’s legs to check it. He’d just have to hope the darkness disguised whatever was going on.

  The fireworks were almost over, and he didn’t want them to end. He stood in the crowd, aware of Lucy’s body pressed up against his side; in a moment everyone would step back, take a breath, get another mulled wine and prepare for the lighting of the bonfire and the burning of the guy. He stole a look at her. Underneath her red woollen hat, dark strands of hair had come loose and curled against her high, freckled cheekbones. Her mouth was parted slightly – he exhaled – the mouth he’d kissed before and desperately wanted to kiss again. She sensed him looking at her and turned to him, lips curling into a smile.

  ‘It’s like a school reunion.’

  The last firework shot into the air with a squeal and then fizzled out. Sam and Lucy turned at the same time, just as the family behind them moved away to reveal Stella standing there. His heart sank through the floor.

  ‘Mum!’ Freya sounded as delighted as he was dismayed.

  ‘Hi, Stella.’ He tried to keep his true feelings out of his voice. It was all very well Stella coming back into Freya’s life, but she was bloody everywhere all of a sudden.

  ‘Well, this is nice,’ said Mel, somehow managing to simultaneously give Stella a smile of welcome and him a look that spoke volumes. ‘Harvey, did you know Stella was back?’

  He turned. ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘Daddy! Language,’ Mattie said crossly from somewhere over Sam’s head. He’d almost forgotten she was there.

  ‘Can I let you down, sweetie?’

  ‘Here, I’ll take you,’ said Mel, reaching up and helping her down. Sam rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck back until it gave a slightly alarming crack.

  ‘Mum said she might come and say hello.’ Freya looked delighted.

  ‘For old times’ sake,’ said Stella, giving Lucy a slightly thin smile. Mel had already handed Mattie back to Harvey, who was holding his daughter by the hand. His wife was tucking a sleepy toddler into a pushchair. Sam bent down to give her a padded mitten which had fallen onto the damp grass.

  There was a lull in the proceedings and Mel and Lucy headed off to get another drink, leaving Sam there with Stella. Freya and her friends disappeared off to look at the boys from the next village who’d arrived in a gang and who were lurking in the shadows. He hoped they wouldn’t get up to anything.

  Stella looked out of place in a long, expensive-looking coat and a shawl, with high-heeled boots that were sinking into the grass. She looked around, taking in the world that had once been hers. It made him feel uncomfortable. He needed to get over that – just because she was back in Freya’s life, it didn’t mean she had to be there all the time whenever he went anywhere.

  ‘So what’s going on in your world, Stell?’ Harvey gave her a brief one-armed hug of welcome. Sam took the opportunity to step back and out of the conversation.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ she said, airily. ‘The usual.’

  Harvey looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘You disappear for ten years, and that’s all you’ve got to say?’

  She shook her head and smiled. ‘It’s a long story.’

  Sam decided to take the bull by the horns. He tipped his head, indicating to Stella that he wanted to have a chat. They moved slightly apart from the others. Lucy, queuing with Mel at the wine stall, caught his eye briefly and gave him a fleeting half-smile of encouragement.

  ‘Look.’ He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘We need to talk. Without Freya.’

  ‘Of course.’ Stella lifted her chin slightly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’ll support Freya in whatever she wants – and she wants you to be a part of her life.’ It still made something in his stomach churn anxiously when he said that. Sharing parenting after all these years of doing it solo just wasn’t as easy as all that. He swallowed. ‘But you don’t get an all-access pass to every part of our lives. We need to have plans, and invitations, and there has to be compromise.’

  Stella looked at him for a moment, her mouth open. No words came out. And then she seemed to gather herself, and nodded firmly. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

  He was taken aback. This calm, measured response wasn’t what he had expected. He almost wanted to reach out and shake her firmly by the hand.

  ‘Hey.’ Lucy appeared with a cup of mulled wine for him. She handed it over and Stella gave a brief smile and moved away, checking her phone. Mel, following behind, was carrying a basket of chocolate brownies she’d won in the tombola. Harvey’s horde of children – with noses like bloodhounds – circled her almost instantly.

  ‘Oh yum,’ said Mattie. ‘Are they for us?’

  They watched the fire burning – Lucy still standing close to hand, Stella hovering. Sam’s face was hot from the fire and he unfastened his coat, unwinding the scarf he’d been wearing.

  Lucy and Mel left while Stella was talking to him about arrangements to collect Freya for a shopping trip to Oxford. He watched them heading back, giving a wave goodbye across the cricket field, and wanted to scream in frustration. He’d tried to speak to Lucy but Stella was wedged in between them and the moment was lost. Time was running out. The telephone box library was almost complete, Lucy’s book was finished, and her time living in Bunty’s cottage was coming to an end. Would he ever find a way to tell her how he felt?

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  It didn’t get any easier the following week. Bunty headed off somewhat reluctantly for a week in Wales with Gordon and Margaret, and Lucy took the opportunity to go to Paris for a week to visit an old university friend. Sam had caught her, bag in hand, coming out of the cottage. She’d looked glowing and excited, and explained that her friend had suggested the trip and as part of her new decision to live life in the moment, she’d decided to go for it.

  ‘I think I need some of Lucy’s all-new life is for living approach.’ Sam said ruefully, sitting in Mel’s kitchen with a beer.

  Mel, who was Hamish-sitting, shook her head in amusement. ‘You need to make a move, man. It’s going to be too late if you’re not careful.’

  ‘It’s not that easy. And she’s leaving, anyway.’

  ‘Or is she?’ Mel said, waggling her eyebrows in what she clearly thought was an enigma
tic manner. She finished doling out dog biscuits and set all five down on the kitchen floor, calling them one by one. He marvelled as her older two dogs waited obediently, then went straight to their own bowls.

  Hamish beetled in from the sitting room and helped himself to a mouthful from the three remaining bowls before settling down at his own. He looked quite at home in Mel’s untidy but comfortable kitchen. The spaniels shifted over, making space for him. Like they had for Lucy, he thought.

  ‘What d’you mean, or is she?’ he said, a moment later.

  ‘I dunno.’ Mel shugged. ‘I think she’s become quite attached to the village, and –’ she gave a knowing look – ‘some of the people in it.’

  Sam didn’t say anything.

  Freya went to Oxford with Stella, where they apparently had their first disagreement, and she came home in a mood and flopped angrily onto the sofa, saying that she could see why he’d left her (Sam didn’t point out that she had in fact left him) and that she couldn’t see why her mum was such a bloody old cow. He’d found himself sticking up for Stella, who’d actually been quite reasonable and had put her foot down when Freya wanted to buy a pair of shoes in a vintage shop that were not only completely impractical but two sizes two small.

  When Lucy returned home she popped in to say hello, and found an overexcited Freya up to her eyes in slightly premature Christmas decorations. She hadn’t messaged Sam when she was away, so he hadn’t messaged her – although he’d composed several funny little texts about things that were going on in the village, and the excitement over the unofficial opening of the library. Lucy pulled a box of beautifully wrapped truffles from her bag and handed them to Freya.

  ‘How was Paris?’

  Freya ripped off the ribbon and opened the box, offering them round. Sam took one and watched Lucy shake her head no and smile at Freya, who gave a groan of pleasure as she popped one in her mouth.