“Are you okay, Marjorie?”
“I have something top secret to discuss with you, but you must swear you won’t tell a soul.”
Had Mrs. Coulter told Marjorie something about the future of the library? June braced herself for the bad news.
“It’s about Gayle’s hen do.”
June’s heart sank at the mention of her childhood best friend. Gayle was Marjorie and Brian’s daughter, and her upcoming wedding was all Marjorie had talked about for months. June had been bored with every little detail, from the grand proposal in the Maldives to the choice for the wedding favors and the drama with the caterers. Now she tried to contain a sigh.
“What’s the problem with the hen do, Marjorie?”
“So, I told you that they’re having it up the road at Oakford Park, didn’t I? Well, last night I was talking to my friend Pru, whose daughter works at the hotel, and she said that she’d been hearing all about the plans for Gayle’s hen do and how did I feel about the fact there was going to be a”—at this point Marjorie paused, her cheeks coloring, and lowered her voice—“a stripper. A naked man!”
“I’m sure it will be quite innocent,” June said, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible. A hysterical Marjorie was the last thing she needed on top of everything else.
“You don’t seem to appreciate the significance of this. As you know, my husband is the chair of the parish council, and, strictly entre nous, when his tenure is up next year, he’s being considered for the position of lord lieutenant. Do you know what that is, June? The Queen’s representative in the county. The Queen!”
June couldn’t work out how this was all connected, but she thought it best not to say. “I’m sure it will all be harmless fun.”
“Imagine if word got out that there had been a stripper at Gayle’s hen do. It could destroy Brian’s reputation; I can’t risk anything like that happening.”
“Maybe you should try speaking to the bridesmaids about it?” June said, glancing at her watch. They’d left the library floor unsupervised for far too long.
“There’s no point. Tara and Becky have never liked me—they’re probably doing this just to spite me.”
June didn’t say anything, but for once she suspected Marjorie might be right. She and Gayle had been inseparable at primary school, having bonded at the age of six over a shared love of Mildred Hubble. But when they reached secondary school, Gayle had become friends with Tara and Becky, who thought boys were more interesting than books, and who dressed as if they’d stepped off the pages of a Sweet Valley High novel. Overnight, Gayle had abandoned June for her new, cool friends, ignoring her in the corridors and turning a blind eye when Tara and Becky laughed at June in class.
“You have no idea of the headache this is giving me,” Marjorie said, oblivious to June’s discomfort. “I know you’re single, so you’ll probably never have to go through what I’m experiencing. But believe me, organizing a wedding is the most stressful thing that can ever happen to you.”
* * *
• • •
June returned to the magazines she’d abandoned earlier, her face still burning at the painful memories of school. Marjorie was infuriating; she’d always reminded June of Mrs. Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, but this had confirmed her suspicions beyond all doubt. Here they were, the future of the library and their jobs under threat, and all Marjorie could worry about was her daughter’s stupid hen do. June slammed a copy of Country Living onto the rack with force. As she did, she caught sight of Alex walking toward her.
“Whatever that magazine has done to you, it can’t have been that bad.”
June smiled despite herself. “Sorry. My boss is driving me mad.” She lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder to check that Marjorie was still safely in her office.
“Try working for your dad. Mine’s behaving as if I’m taking over the running of a small country, not a village takeaway.”
“How is he?”
“All right, although I’m not sure I’ll ever get him out of the kitchen and into the hospital.” Alex stood back and surveyed the library. “God, I haven’t been in here in years. I swear it was bigger when we were kids. And less, you know, run-down.”
“We’ve been having funding issues,” June said as she saw Alex take in the ancient dusty blinds, the peeling walls and chipped tables.
“It’s sad to see it like this. I have so many happy memories here. I used to love those games sessions your mum ran.”
June’s breath caught in her throat, as it did whenever someone mentioned her mum out of the blue.
“She introduced me to science fiction as well,” Alex said. “She must have spent hours recommending books to me.”
“We still have a small Sci-Fi section, if you want to take a look.”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d have a copy of Pride and Prejudice I could borrow.”
“Are you sure?” June looked at Alex to see if he was winding her up. “There might be other books you’d prefer.”
“No, I’d like to read Pride and Prejudice, please. I’ve heard it’s excellent.”
She found a copy on the shelf and brought it back to the desk. Alex handed her an old bent library card.
“I’ve got a book for you too,” he said as he reached into his rucksack and pulled out a well-thumbed paperback. “I know you said you weren’t sure about horror books, but this is something special. She’s one of my favorite authors.”
June was so taken aback she didn’t know what to say. She looked at the front cover and saw it was The Graveyard Apartment by Mariko Koike. “Thanks, Alex. That’s really kind.”
“No worries. And thanks for this,” he said, waving his copy of Pride and Prejudice as he strolled toward the door. “I hope you enjoy the book. Just don’t read it on your own at night.”
“If I have to sleep with the lights on again, then I’ll know who to blame,” June called after him, and then felt stupid when several people turned to look at her.
She studied the book in her hands. It must have been at least ten years old, and when she opened it, she saw the name Alex Chen scribbled on the first page. June had a sudden urge to lift it to her nose and smell it, but she put the book down on the desk. She glanced toward the door to see if Alex was still there, but instead she saw a hunched figure limping toward the desk.
“I want to make a complaint.”
With her small piggy eyes, sour expression, and substantial girth, Vera Cox had always reminded June of Aunt Sponge from James and the Giant Peach. She came into the library several times a week to borrow thrillers and moan at June.
“What’s the problem, Vera?”
“The children are being too noisy again. I can’t hear myself think.”
“I’m sorry, but as I’ve explained before, we can’t expect the little ones to be silent. They’re just enjoying the Children’s Room.”
Vera frowned, lines creased deep in her face. “It’s the mothers I blame; they just bring them here and leave them to run wild.”
“I’m not sure that’s true.”
“And another thing. Have you heard there’s an immigrant family moved into Lower Lane? I saw them myself this morning.”
June took a deep breath. “Can I help you with anything else, Vera?”
The old woman sniffed. “I think the toilet’s broken again; I can’t get in.”
June got up from the desk and went over to the toilet, relieved to get away from Vera. The door was locked when she pushed against it. “Hello, is anyone in there?”
There was no answer.
“Are you okay? This is June.”
She heard a shuffle on the other side and the sound of the bolt being drawn back. The door edged open to reveal Chantal, a sixteen-year-old who came into the library to do her homework. She was hoping to get a scholarship to university, and June sometimes
helped her study. But today Chantal’s eyes were red, mascara smudged around the edges.
“Chantal, are you okay?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, wiping her face on her sleeve.
“Are you sure? Has something happened at home?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong, then?”
“You’re gonna think I’m stupid.”
“Of course I won’t,” June said as she steered Chantal behind the privacy of a shelf.
The teenager fiddled with one of her long braids. “It’s just . . . I’ve got an English exam next week and I know I’m going to screw it up.”
“Oh, I’m sure you won’t. And I can help with your revision, if you like?”
“Stanley’s been helping me, but it’s the exam I’m worried about. I’m so nervous, I know I’ll stare at the questions and not remember any of it. I can’t sleep I’m so stressed.”
“Oh, I understand. I really do,” June said, recognizing the anxiety in the girl’s eyes. “Perhaps you could try some relaxation techniques? Or find something else to take your mind off the exam.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I usually read a favorite book, but that might be the last thing you want to do right now.” June thought for a moment. “I know. Why don’t you come to the library meeting on Thursday? It would be great to have a younger person there and it will be a good distraction for you.”
“What library meeting?”
“The one with the council about the proposed closure.” June watched the teenager’s eyes go wide. “Oh god, I’m sorry, Chantal. I assumed you knew.”
“The council want to close the library?”
“Well, maybe. It’s not confirmed yet.”
“But they can’t do that; I need this place,” Chantal said, her voice rising. “I can’t study at home—there’s no space.”
“It’s not definite yet. We’ll find out more at the meeting.” June felt a wave of guilt; Chantal was stressed enough already. “I’m sure it will all be fine.”
“What about my university application? You promised you’d help. And Mum needs the computers for her benefits.”
“Why don’t you come to the meeting on Thursday so you can tell the council all of this?”
“I can’t. I’ve got to babysit the twins for Mum,” Chantal said, her head dropping. Then she looked up at June. “Will you speak to the council for me?”
June felt a familiar tightening in her chest. “Oh, I’m not sure I’m the best person.”
“But they’ll listen to you. Me and Mum need this place, June. Please, you have to tell them.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
When June arrived at the church hall on Thursday evening, it was already crowded. Rows of chairs had been set up facing a makeshift stage, and June could see Stanley sitting in the front row. Next to him was Mrs. Bransworth, wearing what looked like a homemade T-shirt with save our libraries written in black felt-tip pen, and Linda and Jackson were sitting a few rows behind. June looked around in the hope Chantal might be there, but there was no sign of the teenager.
Stanley spotted her and gave a wave, signaling to an empty seat nearby, but June pretended she hadn’t seen him and made her way toward the back of the room. This whole setup reminded her too much of school, and she took a seat in the far corner, where she hoped no one would notice her tonight.
As June sat down, she saw a woman and two men enter the room. One of them was Marjorie’s husband, Brian, a man who only read biographies of world leaders.
“Right, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, waiting a moment for the room to quieten. “You all know the reason we’re here tonight. Last week, Dunningshire Council announced that they want to restructure the library service in the county. As I’m sure you’re aware, our library is very close to my heart . . .” At this Brian gestured toward the middle of the room, and June saw Marjorie beaming like the Cheshire cat. “So, I asked some representatives from the council to come along and talk to us this evening. There will be an opportunity for you to ask questions at the end, but first, may I introduce Richard Donnelly, one of the councillors, and Sarah Thwaite, the council’s head of libraries and information services?”
June watched the younger man on the stage stand up. He was in his mid-thirties, wearing a pair of chinos and a crisp pink shirt, with a tan that suggested he’d been either on holiday or in a sun bed. He looked like he’d probably not read a book in years, let alone been into a library. Next to him, the woman, Sarah, sat with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. June guessed that she read self-help books.
“Thank you for the introduction, Brian,” Richard said. “It’s great to see so many of you here to talk about the future of Little Whitham Library.”
Sarah let out a small cough and glared at him, but Richard carried on, oblivious of his mistake.
“Now, I won’t beat around the bush. Due to reduced funding from central government and increased financial pressures on the council, we need to cut our libraries budget by thirty percent over the next three years. As such, the council are launching a program of modernization and rationalization of the library service.”
“What’s all that gobbledygook mean?” someone muttered near June.
“We have identified six libraries in the county that we believe are most suitable for restructure. These are Favering, Mawley, Dedham, Little Whitham, Chalcot, and Lave-End. Over the next three months, we’ll be carrying out in-depth analyses of the performance of these libraries in order to ascertain which are providing the council with good value for money.”
“Value for money? It’s a library, not a tin of beans,” said one of the Knit and Natter ladies, and there was a ripple of muted laughter.
“Quiet, please,” Brian said.
Richard continued, unperturbed. “To assist the council in our decision, we’ve contracted a firm of management consultants who will be carrying out this performance analysis on our behalf. They’ll be looking at things like the number of customer visits and the number of books issued. We’ll then be able to work out the cost-effectiveness of each library.”
“How can you put a cost value on all the things the library provides?” June didn’t need to look to know this was Mrs. B speaking. “Literacy, social inclusion, encouraging a love of reading in the young. Do these things have a price, Mr. Donnelly?”
“I said comments at the end,” said Brian. “Now, sit down, Mrs. Bransworth, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Mrs. B let out a loud snort.
“Thank you, Brian,” said Richard. “At the end of the consultation, the council will look at the findings and make our decision about the future of each library. There are three options we’ll be considering. The first is to keep a library open in its current form with no changes. The second is that a library remains open but under community management.”
“What does that mean?” a woman called out.
“It means a local community would take over all responsibility for running the library, including leasing the building, the books, and equipment, at no cost to the council.”
“What, like a volunteer library?” Stanley said, and there was a low rumble of muttering round the room. “What would happen to our librarians?”
“Community libraries are staffed by unpaid volunteers,” Richard said.
“Then it’s not a library, is it? It’s just a room full of books.” Mrs. B was standing up again. “A library requires a librarian, with specialist degrees and years of experience. Are you suggesting that someone like me could provide the same service as a trained professional?”
Richard was looking paler under his tan. “Community management isn’t suitable for every library, and so as part of the consultation we’ll be deciding which of the libraries might benefit from this opportunity.”
“What’s the third option?” Vera said.
“The third option is that the library will be closed and replaced by a mobile library service.”
At this there was a clamor of voices.
“Quiet. Quiet!” Brian called, but no one could hear him above the noise.
“If I may?” Sarah stood up with a bright smile and waited for everyone to quieten down, while Richard took his chair again. “Please believe me when I say that we don’t relish having to restructure our libraries. But with the cuts imposed on us by the government, we have to be pragmatic. Library visits are down year on year across the county.”
“Bloody Tories,” Mrs. B said. “We know what you’re up to here, destroying public services with a hundred little cuts so you can bring in privatization and voluntarization.”
Sarah pretended she hadn’t heard this. “Of course, we value feedback from local communities, and we want to listen to what residents have to say. So, we’ll be circulating a questionnaire where you can tell us what you want from your library service. Along with the findings of the consultants, the questionnaires will help us to make a decision about the future of each of the six libraries.”
With that she sat down and whispered something to Richard, who nodded.
“Thank you, Richard and Sarah,” Brian said. “Now, everyone, this is your chance to ask questions. But I warn you—keep this civilized or you’re all out.”
A number of hands shot into the air, but before Brian could pick someone, Vera was standing up.
“How will I renew my bus pass?”
“I believe you can do that online these days,” Richard said.
“But I don’t know how to use a computer.”
“Well, I’m sure you can do it over the phone.”
“But it’s one of those automated systems and I always press the wrong buttons. That’s why I get June to do it for me at the library.”
June cringed at the mention of her name, but no one even glanced at her.
“Well, perhaps you can get a friend to help you?” Richard said.
Vera sat down with a scowl, and June felt a pang of sympathy for her. She was pretty sure the old woman didn’t have any friends she could ask for help.
The Last Chance Library Page 4
