The Single Mums' Book Club

by Victoria Cooke

  ‘Of course.’ She smiles. ‘Is Monday a good day for you to start?’

  I nod. ‘Sounds perfect. See you on Monday.’

  ***

  Janey looks flustered when I get back. She has Henry in her arms and something orange slopped down her cream T-shirt.

  ‘He’s a handful this one.’ She giggles, handing him over.

  I kiss him on his sticky head. ‘Sorry. I know. Thank you so much.’

  ‘No problem, I enjoyed having him.’ She tickles him under his chin. ‘So how did it go?’

  ‘Fine, I guess.’

  ‘Oh? That doesn’t sound good.’ She rests her head on her hands expectantly, so I fill her in. She winces a little when I talk about Carly pointing out the stain and I pull the bottom of my sweater out so she can have a good look.

  She shakes her head slowly. ‘Yeah, that’s no fashion statement I’m afraid.’

  I bury my face in Henry’s hair and let out a low grumble. ‘Why me?’

  ‘Look, you have three kids. The fact you made it out of the house at all is a bloody feat and it will all be forgotten by Monday. You have nothing to worry about.’

  I know she’s right, but it doesn’t stop the awful crampy feeling in my stomach.

  ‘Fancy a brew?’

  ‘I might as well; if they don’t revoke the offer on the grounds of being completely inept at life, I won’t be a lady of leisure for much longer.’

  Whilst Janey makes the tea, I browse nurseries on my phone. ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she calls from the kitchen.

  ‘It’s going to cost me more than half my wage to send Henry to nursery part-time.’ I look at a few other websites including Mumsnet and MoneySavingExpert and it seems the prices around here are average. How do people afford jobs?

  ‘It’s not forever. Just a year and then Henry will be two and you can claim help with childcare costs,’ she says, handing me a cuppa.

  ‘I know that. It’s just so disheartening to get a job after so many years and still not have financial independence.’ Janey sits on the couch next to me and puts her hand on mine.

  ‘Just another year. Once Henry is in nursery you might even be able to pick up some hours elsewhere too – you’ll have experience then,’ she says.

  ‘You’re right. It’s a step in the right direction,’ I say. ‘Anyway, on to better and brighter things. Where are we having our next book club meet-up?’

  ‘There’s no way Aman-dah-dee-dah is coming to this dump.’ Janey casts her arms in the air. ‘I tidied up last night and the kids had wrecked the entire place by breakfast time. I gave up and just sprayed everything with Fabulosa. The toys are a tripping hazard so broken bones are likely but at least nobody will get E. coli on my watch.’

  I look at the plastic obstacle course on the floor and smile. ‘Oh God, my house is awful too. Even after I’ve cleaned I find ketchup in the most random of places. I’d hate to ruin her fancy clothes.’

  ‘Could do it at the pub,’ Janey says, getting down on her knees to pick up and aimlessly throw some toys at a big plastic tub. Some even go in.

  ‘I suppose but it gets a bit crowded in there. I’m thinking of signing up at the library. I wondered if we could do it there? It’s open late on a Thursday.’

  ‘Maybe.’ She taps the side of her cup twice. ‘But we can’t have a glass of wine in the library – at least not openly. We could ask Amanda if she wants to host.’

  ‘That seems unfair since it’s her first time. I’ll tell you what. I’ll host – I’ll just tell her to wear dark colours.’ I wink and reach for my bag.

  ‘What’s that?’ Janey asks.

  ‘Amanda’s business card. She gave it me so I could get in touch with the book club details.’

  ‘I thought she was a lady of leisure. She’s in the salon or down at the butcher’s most days. What does it say she does?’

  I study the card.

  Amanda Redgrave

  Old Manor Farm

  Stable Lane

  0772548925

  ‘Nothing. It’s just her personal details.’

  ‘Who has a business card for themselves if they don’t work in a business?’ Janey pulls the card off me and inspects it for herself.

  ‘I don’t know, maybe she’s just organised or she meets lots of new people.’ I shrug.

  She raises her eyebrows. ‘If she meets lots of new people, would she really be gate-crashing our book club?’

  ‘You have a point but it’s none of our concern. Let me send her a message to confirm the venue. I said I’d let her know.’

  I send the message and quickly after, she texts back. ‘Janey, she wants your number.’

  ‘Nope. No way. I don’t know how to talk to someone like her.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to figure it out. I can’t tell her you said no.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Oh, and she’s setting up a WhatsApp group,’ I say, reading her instant reply. A few moments later, both our phones buzz with news of a new message.

  ‘I don’t even want to look,’ Janey says. I pick up my phone. The new group is called ‘Book Clubbers’. And the message reads as follows:

  Hello ladies, it’s a pleasure to be joining your book club. I’ve almost finished Eleanor and can’t wait to chat about it. I’d also say that it was very kind of Stephanie to offer to hold the next meeting but I thought, since I’m new, it might be nice for you to come to my house. I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes though, so please let me know if you’d rather stick to the plan. Best wishes, Amanda.

  ‘Blimey, she’s a fast reader,’ Janey says.

  ‘See, she’s sweet,’ I say.

  ‘It’s a kind gesture,’ Janey concedes. ‘And it gets us out of tidying up again.’

  ‘That’s true. Have you started the book?’

  ‘Yes, but now I feel under pressure to really understand it. We’re going to need to revise or something.’

  ‘Okay, Janey, look: Amanda is posh, but she’s not a literature professor as far as I’m aware. I’m sure a chat about characters and themes will suffice.’ The drama queen in Janey does both amuse and exasperate me at times.

  ‘I suppose. I’ll reply to her – be polite.’ Janey picks up her phone and starts keying out a message. A part of me is quite glad that Amanda has joined our book club. It gives us a focus and makes it more of a thing. Janey and I will still get together for a cuppa a few times a week but the book club will now be something different. Something more meaningful.

  Chapter 10

  The distinct sweet, musty smell is something that hits me the moment I step inside. Tall shelves with infinite paper dreams. An imaginarium. Mum is with me. She squeezes my hand with giddy excitement as we browse the colourful picture books.

  The grey-haired librarian is sat reading a book and doesn’t notice me until I place my bag on the desk in front of her, prompting her to look up wearily. I’d seen online that you needed some identification to get a card, so I’ve come carrying that along with the two-tonne shame of having a ten-year-old son who has never set foot in the village library.

  It only takes a few minutes to become a fully-fledged member. The place seems well stocked for such a small building, as I stare in awe at the choice. I’m not sure what I’m looking for but so much is catching my eye that I pick up a few titles, judging solely on their covers, and go and sit on the comfy chair in the back corner. The first one, Big Little Lies, I’ve heard of because I saw the TV show advertised and always fancied reading it. I have an hour to kill before I pick the kids up so I might as well sit here and read a few chapters. It feels indulgent but I never do anything for just me.

  An elderly man comes in to browse the James Patterson books. We exchange smiles before he tucks a few books under his arm and disappears. There’s a murmuring hum of voices and the female librarian says something that seems loud and misplaced but I’m so engrossed in this book, I’m not listening. When my eyes start to strain, I check the time
and it’s just after three. I’ve been reading for an hour and a half. I close the book and notice the dingy light. When I look up, the bright fluorescent strip-lights are off. How odd. No wonder my eyes feel like they’ve been pressed with a potato masher.

  I make my way to the desk and an ear-piercing beeping stops me in my tracks. My pulse quickens. It sounds like a fire alarm. There must be a fire. I race to the doors and yank the handles. They’re locked. I glance around, eyes scanning the walls until I spot the fire escape. The beeping makes it so hard to think straight but as I’m running towards the escape door, I realise I haven’t seen the librarian. She could be trapped. I divert to the desk. She isn’t there. There’s an office behind, so I try the door but it’s stuck fast.

  ‘Hello?’ I yell, banging frantically on the glass widow. There’s no sign of anyone in there. I let my arm drop to my side. A moment passes and I realise I don’t smell any smoke. I walk back to the main doors. Through the paper poster that faces outwards, I can see the opening times. They’re backwards to me but I can still make out that the library closes at two p.m. on a Friday. I slump against the glass. I’m locked in. Trespassing even. My heart hammers against my ribs. Does this make me a criminal? I try to stay calm, taking slow and steady breaths. I should call someone for help but who? Janey? Mike? As I’m searching for my phone, I hear loud voices outside. Oh God. It’s the police.

  I stand up, hugging my books to my body. The librarian is with them. Her lips pressed together so firmly the colour has drained from them, like two white slugs. She unlocks the door with exaggerated movements and yanks the key out when she’s done it. The police officer at the front puts his arm out in front of her, warning her to stay back as if I’m some kind of armed robber holding all these books hostage.

  He takes hold of the door handles with both hands. ‘Step away from the door and put your hands out in front where I can see them.’

  I drop the books and do as he says, catching a look of disgust on the librarian’s face as I do so. My hands are shaking. Is he going to arrest me? My children need picking up in ten minutes, I haven’t got time to be arrested. My head starts to feel funny, like a soggy tea towel has taken over. He opens the door slowly, fixing his eyes on me the entire time. Two other police officers appear and flank him as the librarian stands behind them with her arms folded. If she doesn’t relax her lips soon, I fear they might turn blue and fall off.

  ‘No sign of forced entry,’ says the female officer.

  ‘Can you explain what you’re doing trespassing in the community library?’ the police officer in front asks when he’s opened the doors. My biceps are aching but I daren’t drop my arms; his Taser is strapped to his chest and he doesn’t look afraid to use it.

  ‘I was just reading a book. It’s a really good one,’ I say pathetically. He glances at the floor by my feet where the strewn pile of titles I wanted to check out now lie.

  ‘What are those there then?’

  I frown. ‘Books.’

  ‘Watch your tone. It looks like you were trying to take these books illegally. We’ll have to take you down to the station.’

  ‘No!’ I yell. ‘I was not! I was reading them and she’ – I jut my chin in the direction of the librarian – ‘locked me in.’

  The police officer looks back to the librarian and the other two step towards me.

  ‘She signed me up today! Why would I steal books when I can borrow them for free?’ My forehead is pulled into an Oliver Twist-esque ‘please, sir’ expression and I’ve never been more grateful of my fine lines.

  ‘Is this true?’ the police officer asks the librarian.

  ‘She did come in to sign up for a library card, but I could have sworn she’d gone. I always shout “We’re closing. Final check-outs” five minutes before I’m locking up and today was no different.’

  Ahh. That must have been what she was saying just after the old man left. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

  She sighs. ‘I had just walked through my front door when I got the call about the alarm going off. This is a massive inconvenience you know.’

  Perhaps she should pay more attention to who comes and goes. ‘I’m truly sorry.’

  ‘You can drop your arms,’ the police officer says. Blood rushes to my fingertips when I do. ‘I think we’ve established this was just a misunderstanding. I trust you’ll pay more attention to closing times in future?’

  I nod. ‘Definitely.’

  He sighs, ensuring I understand what a massive pain in the backside I am. ‘Then you’re free to go.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I bend to pick up the books.

  ‘Don’t think you’re taking those,’ the librarian says thrusting her hands onto her hipbones.

  ‘I was just going to check them out.’

  ‘We. Are. Closed.’ She enunciates each word.

  I sigh and glance at the police officer.

  ‘You’ll have to come back tomorrow.’ He shrugs.

  I gather my belongings and put the books on the nearby ‘returns’ shelf. It isn’t until I’m outside, I notice the crowd of people who’ve gathered. The scandal of a police car too intriguing to ignore for the residents of sleepy Crinkly. I lower my head as one of the officers escorts me off the premises. When we reach his car he turns to me.

  ‘I trust this won’t happen again?’

  ‘Never.’ In the unlikely even I ever set a foot back in there, I won’t be staying. As they drive off, I notice the librarian walk off in the other direction. A few people from the crowd coo over her. One lady hugs her, for goodness’ sake. I’m the one who is traumatised! As I turn to leave, I notice a figure in the doorway of the bakery across the road. The familiar eyes deepen the shame that’s already swamping me. Hoping he hasn’t realised who I am, I speed-walk to my car.

  Chapter 11

  The practice is the busiest I’ve ever seen it when I arrive on Monday morning at ten to ten. There’s a lady with a cat in a carrier, an old man with some sort of terrier, a younger man with something in a cage that could be a ferret and a young woman with a black and white puppy curled on her lap.

  ‘Morning, Carly,’ I say. She’s tapping away at the computer but glances up and gives me a warm smile.

  ‘Sorry, we’re running behind today. Edward was late back from delivering a calf at Crookney Farm so he’s catching up.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘The machine there is the one I started to log all the accounts on. It’s just an Excel spreadsheet and these are the client records.’ She hands me a hefty file.

  ‘Great. I’ll just spend some time getting to grips with it all and see where we can make some improvements.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ she says, still typing as she glances over at me.

  The door opens to the examination room and Edward emerges with a newly coned golden retriever on a lead. His eyes are dark, wide saucers. He does look sorry for himself, I have to say. The dog that is, although Edward doesn’t exactly look like he’s full of the joys of spring either. His face is red and his hair dishevelled. He must sense me looking his way as he glances over and gives me a quick nod of hello before handing the self-pitying pooch over to its owner and calling in the ferret. On second glance, it could be a rat.

  By the time Carly goes for lunch, I almost have my head around the messy accounts. There are quite a few unpaid bills that I could offer to chase and as much as I didn’t want to face him today, I could do with catching Edward for a chat to see if he’s willing to invest in some proper software. I’ve had a look online and found one that looks pretty good and the monthly fee seems reasonable. I wait for a quiet spell and catch him the next time he emerges.

  He still looks flustered and I’m hoping that means he’ll have forgotten about library-gate and indeed the pasta emblem. ‘Edward, sorry to be a nuisance – do you have a second?’

  His face melts a little into something quite affable. ‘Of course. How is our resident trespasser getting on?’

  I cringe so hard I think
my stomach turns inside out but I have to laugh it off and move on. After all, I did nothing wrong.

  ‘It’s not nearly as much fun entering a property when you’re actually allowed to.’

  To my relief, he laughs softly. ‘I heard it was all just a misunderstanding. Apparently, Maggie the librarian was a bit naffed off because she missed her poetry club meeting.’

  I wince. ‘I’ve never felt so terrible and embarrassed all at the same time.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry. It doesn’t take much to rattle her cage. I dared to crunch a Polo mint in there once – you should have seen the look she gave me. Anyway, enough about Miserable Maggie, are you finding everything okay here?’

  ‘I think I know where I’m up to now. There are quite a few invoices outstanding if you’d like me to start chasing them up?’

  He frowns. ‘Ahh, I suspected that might be the case. If you wouldn’t mind, it makes sense for you to do it as you’ll be able to explain what the amount relates to. I dread to think what Carly would say.’

  ‘It’s no problem. I think the hours will allow for that now that I’ve got my head around the systems here. There was another thing.’

  ‘Fire away,’ he says.

  ‘I’ve found an online accounts package that would really help us to keep on top of things but there’s a monthly fee and we’d probably need better internet.’

  He ponders this. ‘Okay, I’m about to anesthetise a Dentastix-dodging beagle so I can clean his teeth but if you leave me the details, I’ll weigh it all up tonight.’

  As he goes back behind the door, my mouth curls at the image of him brushing a dog’s teeth. I’m not sure if I should feel bad as I’ve never once brushed Otis’s.

  ***

  The childminder I got at short notice says Henry was a little unsettled. I get a pang of guilt because he was just chucked in at short notice instead of having the recommended taster sessions. I’m almost sure the emotional damage won’t scar him for life.

  ‘Mum, are you unwell?’ Ava asks me when we finish her reading homework.

  I shake my head. ‘I’m fine, honey, why would you ask?’