It’s short, but it’s as perfect a snapshot as I have ever seen. Even without the frantic buzzing of my buried mobile, I know that Marley will be ecstatic – and Miss Walker too. They’ve managed to showcase not just the band but the library as well, and made both look seriously cool. As the camera cuts away to Miss Walker (in her library dress, naturally) telling the presenter that libraries are not just about books, I know that even the most stubborn and couldn’t-care-less viewer will be sitting up a little straighter, keen to know more about this place where the librarian has hair the colour of candyfloss and teenagers drape themselves across the furniture to play songs they’ve written themselves.
I’m grinning as I watch Bex talking to camera, telling the whole of the Midlands that libraries belong to everybody. Marley is next, stretching the facts a little as he tells the camera that books inspired him to be a musician, and how the band is struggling now that we can’t practise in the library any more.
‘Doesn’t let the truth stand in the way of a good story, our Marley,’ Bex says scathingly.
‘He sounds convincing, though,’ Mandy says kindly. ‘Seems like a nice boy!’
Bex just snorts, and then it’s my turn to cringe as I’m on screen. To my relief they haven’t used the bit about us being a bunch of misfits – it’s all about how libraries have been a lifeline to me all through my childhood, and then a plea to the viewers for anyone who cares about libraries to write a letter to Millford Council asking them to stop the closures.
‘Yessss!’ Bex says, punching a fist into the air as Mandy and Jon whoop and cheer. ‘Excellent!’
The film closes with a short interview with Louisa Winter, striking in a teal-blue velvet dress with her hair actually combed and swept into an updo without the help of paintbrushes. She is poised and confident and effortlessly clever, explaining why Millford Council should be celebrating culture, learning and creativity instead of starving it to death with endless cuts and closures. She tells viewers that her good friend, the legendary Ked Wilder, is so incensed at the threat to the library he loved so much, that he is coming to Millford to play a free concert in the park to protest about the closures.
‘Ably supported by Millford’s very own teen sensations, the Lost & Found!’ Louisa Winter concludes, and the little film cuts back briefly to our library session before fading out to the studio.
‘That is going to make a lot of people sit up and think,’ Jon says, passing the popcorn round again. ‘It was really persuasive. I get the feeling those TV people liked you!’
‘Having Louisa Winter on your side is a bit of a coup too,’ Mandy adds. ‘She’s a sweetheart, but fierce when she wants to be. And getting Ked Wilder involved – a stroke of genius!’
Jon grins. ‘It’s not just good news for the library, though. This band you’re in, the Lost & Found. It’s amazing! What a sound! A pity it was only half a minute’s worth of music … that song was powerful!’
I take a soft breath in. Is it possible that out there somewhere my mum was watching? Would she recognize me, know that the song was about the two of us? Probably not.
‘Bet a lot of parents watching that will be more supportive about the practices now,’ Bex muses. ‘Now they can see just what we’re doing and why it matters. It should help Happi and Romy and Soumia. Maybe Sami too?’
‘Maybe,’ I say.
I rescue the buried mobile, ignoring a dozen messages from Marley, and call Happi and then Sasha to go over it all again, tell them how brilliant they were, how exciting it is to feel we’re actually doing something positive for the library. I’m just about to call Romy to see what she thought of it when the doorbell rings.
I hear voices, and the next thing I know Marley Hayes is right there in our living room, guitar slung over his shoulder, accepting compliments on his TV appearance from Mandy and Jon and helping himself to popcorn.
‘Come to play to us in person?’ Jon teases, nudging the guitar, and Marley just laughs and says he takes it everywhere with him.
‘You weren’t answering your phone,’ he says. ‘So I thought I’d come over!’
‘Oh, I … mislaid it,’ I say, then realize it’s right there in my hand, and Marley can see that. ‘I just found it this minute. Sorry!’
‘What’s up, Marley?’ Bex wants to know. ‘Come to tell us how good we were? Or are you dragging everyone out for another practice?’
‘Just calling for Lexie, really,’ Marley says. ‘I thought we could maybe go for a walk or something, or just hang out. But sure, you were good, Bex – everyone was. Amazing! That was the best piece of publicity ever – I bet we get mobbed in school tomorrow! I think we can say we’ve probably got a fan base now, and we haven’t even played live yet.’
‘Ugh,’ Bex scowls. ‘That’s something to look forward to – getting mobbed by a bunch of Year Sevens. You are so shallow, Marley!’
‘Bex!’ Mandy warns. ‘Enough! Marley’s a guest in our house!’
Not for long, if I can help it.
‘Walk then?’ I prompt, tugging at his elbow. I promise Mandy and Jon I’ll be back before dark and the two of us escape into the cool spring evening.
‘It was pretty much perfect,’ he is saying as we walk down towards the park. ‘Shows what we can do when we try! Just wait till we get the whole of the band on TV – we’ll blow ’em away!’
‘It did look good,’ I admit. ‘I hope Romy and George didn’t feel hurt that we didn’t include them … not good for the confidence.’
‘We were only allowed six people,’ he reminds me. ‘Makes sense to pick the ones that look good. Plus, we had a good balance sound-wise …’
‘I guess. They cut the bit where I mentioned misfits,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Marley. I love everyone in the band!’
‘I know you do,’ he tells me. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it – I was a bit stressed out before the broadcast, but I should have known they’d do a good job. You were wonderful!’
We head into the park and Marley takes my hands and dances me around on the grass until I’m laughing, but there’s an ache in my chest tonight and I can’t stay smiling for long. Marley doesn’t notice.
‘It really worked, didn’t it, the bit where I helped with the harmonies?’ he’s saying. ‘Maybe I could sing on some of the others too? Just backing, obviously. We do need to think about style, though. We looked OK in the film because of the library setting and everything, but a bunch of people on stage all dressed in their own stuff is going to look messy. I mean, where does Romy get her clothes? They’re out of the ark, and not in a cool, vintage way, either. And Sami, with that ridiculous coat that’s practically falling apart at the seams. And George. I mean … does his gran knit those cardigans?’
‘Does it matter?’ I ask.
‘Of course, if we want to get to the top; everything matters!’
Perhaps that’s the problem. I don’t care about getting to the top, or about Romy’s charity-shop clothes or Sami’s coat or George’s cardies. I like my friends the way they are. What matters to me are things like finding my mum and turning words into music and saving Bridge Street Library, and whether the boy I’m supposed to be going out with is ever going to kiss me again.
We head for the bandstand and sit on the steps, like Louisa Winter did in the magazine photos I saw in that old magazine. I feel all mixed up inside, and I know that some of it’s to do with Mum – the radio and TV interviews, along with writing that first song, have dragged up hopes and memories that might have been better left alone. Last night’s bad dream is like a shard of glass inside me.
Some of the upset feelings are to do with Marley, though.
Who do you ask about boy trouble when you don’t have a mum? Not Mandy, who clearly thinks Marley is the perfect gentleman. Not Bex, who thinks he’s a savage. Not Happi, who still has crushes on movie stars and thinks that thirteen is too young to have a boyfriend. Not Mary Shelley, who just looks at me with silent disdain whenever I try to tell her
about Marley. I don’t think she approves.
What would Mum say? That boys aren’t worth it? That he’s just being ultra polite and taking things slow? That this is the twenty-first century, and a girl needs to take things into her own hands? Maybe.
I shuffle up a little closer to Marley and lean against him casually as if I’m cold.
‘This would be a great location for a proper music video,’ he is saying. ‘After the festival, maybe Ked Wilder will help us to find a record company and we can release a CD and make a video and get properly famous. There’s nothing we can’t do, Lexie, you and me, if we want it badly enough. We make a great team!’
‘Is that what we are?’ I whisper. ‘A great team? Good friends? Songwriting partners?’
‘All of that,’ he says, and as if he’s finally getting the message, his arm snakes round my waist and his head dips down so we’re sitting cheek to cheek. ‘You’re cool, Lexie Lawlor. I’ve never met a girl like you – you’re not just clever and creative and kind, you’re determined as well. You’re too good for me, I know that, but I honestly think that together we could take on the world …’
We sit for a moment in silence, and for that moment I think everything is going to be all right. Marley’s cheek is warm against mine, his arm is wrapped round my waist. The park is so quiet this evening that I can almost hear his breathing, smell the faint aroma of popcorn on his breath. I turn my face a little so that my nose nudges his … and then the moment is over.
Marley jumps up, unzips his gig case and takes out the guitar.
‘I almost forgot,’ he says, oblivious to the flare of shame in my cheeks. ‘I’ve written the start of another song – I wanted you to hear it, get some feedback before I take it any further!’
He starts to play, fingers picking out an intricate and haunting melody, and I sit quietly and listen, tears stinging my eyes. It’s a sad, lonely song, and that’s exactly how I feel.
23
Library Love
The next day at school, as predicted, everyone is talking about the Lost & Found and our brief appearance on TV. As if by magic, posters have appeared around the school, A5 flyers featuring a photo taken during the library filming. There are only half of us in the picture, of course, but we look confident, cool – slightly mysterious. ‘The Lost & Found’, the poster announces. ‘See them live with pop superstar Ked Wilder at the Libraries Festival in Millford Park on Saturday 10th June’.
‘This’ll be Jake’s doing,’ Happi says. ‘He took a ton of pictures on his phone when we were filming. I reckon he’s planned this; got the posters ready and put them up on the day after the film went live!’
‘He’s good,’ I agree. ‘Not sure if we need a tech guy just yet, and it’s hard to manage a band with someone like Marley in it because he’s totally a law unto himself, but Jake is great at publicity and making things happen! He found us the old railway carriage, he put us together with Louisa Winter and he’s amazing with posters and flyers and stuff.’
‘I’m calling a library campaign meeting for six o’clock tomorrow at the railway carriage,’ Bex says. ‘We need Jake for that; he’s full of good ideas. I’ll tell the others at band practice later.’
A swarm of Year Sevens come shoving their way along the corridor, falling into goggle-eyed silence as they catch sight of us. It’s slightly surreal.
‘Hey,’ Happi whispers as the sea of Year Sevens parts politely to let us through. ‘What is this? I don’t like it!’
‘Get used to it, girl,’ Bex says. ‘This is fame. It’s happening; it’s real. One TV show and a few posters and just look at those kids … they’re staring at us like we come from another planet!’
‘They always stare at you that way,’ I point out truthfully, and she elbows me in the ribs.
Everyone turns up to Thursday’s Save the Libraries meeting except, predictably, Marley and Dylan.
‘What is it with Marley Hayes?’ Bex wants to know. ‘He expects us to jump through hoops for his band – I swear, my fingers are practically raw after last night’s practice – but he can’t show up for this, even though it’s the very thing that has given us our first festival slot! Idiot!’
I don’t correct her, but I’m sad. Marley had said he’d be here, and Bex is right, the festival is a big deal for the band. The least he could do is be here to find out what’s being planned. As Happi hands round juice and cookies and the others settle on the ancient bench sofas, Bex consults her notebook.
‘OK. Jake, what’s the latest on the festival?’
Jake takes over, reminding everyone of the festival date and explaining that Louisa Winter and the adult campaigners are sorting this particular part of the protest.
‘Miss Winter is friends with the family who run Glastonbury, I think,’ he explains. ‘She’ll have all the right contacts and make sure it’s cool, even if it’s on a smaller scale. The council gave permission for a half-day festival event before the newspaper announced it was going to be all about the libraries, and now they can’t go back on it – irony, much? Anyway, we’ll have a stage in the park, some chill-out tents, and local food and trade stalls. Ked Wilder is playing at half two, so the only bit we need to worry about is being ready for our half-hour set beforehand …’
‘Half an hour?’ George echoes. ‘No way! How many songs do we need to fill that?’
‘Six or seven, Marley reckons,’ Jake says. ‘Five, minimum. With a bit of patter in between to spin things out. At the moment we’ve got three, but Marley and Lexie are working on it. It’s got to be doable, right?’
There is some debate about this, but everybody’s willing to try their best, and after a while Bex pulls us back to the point again, updating us on the letters campaign, the petition, the push to get primary-school kids to sign up for a library card.
‘Finally … Louisa Winter is doing a piece in the Gazette this weekend, possibly with Lexie here too, because the paper loves the whole angle of teens taking action and the letters idea was hers originally, as you all know. Let’s get a buzz going, let the council know just how many people care.’
Bex thanks everyone for coming along to the meeting and things relax a bit, with people asking questions or forming little groups to plan what they’ll be doing. One by one, people start to leave, and I put the kettle on for warm water to wash up while I collect stray mugs to rinse at the sink. When I go back to the sink the window is all steamed up. I reach out a finger and trace something quickly before the steam clears.
When Sami moves towards me, I step aside automatically to let him pass, but instead he touches my arm.
‘Letter?’ he says, pushing a fold of paper into my hands.
I unfold the paper and there is a perfect library love letter: a heartfelt note telling the council what Bridge Street Library means to him as a young refugee struggling to settle down in Millford, thousands of miles from home. I’m amazed that he has been able to write so clearly and with such feeling.
‘It is good?’ he asks quietly. ‘The letter? It will help your fight, Lexie?’ My eyes widen because I don’t think I have heard him say more than a couple of words before. I assumed his English was poor, that he didn’t understand much of what was being said around him, but it looks like his silence is from choice, not necessity.
‘It’s perfect,’ I tell him, and his face breaks into a grin that somehow lifts my spirits too. ‘Thank you, Sami – can I photocopy it? Show it to the newspaper?’
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘I am happy to help. I am happy to make you smile.’
And he walks away, a tall, skinny boy with hair like a bird’s nest, in a coat that really is as dodgy as Marley said: grubby and worn and frayed at the seams, and way too warm for a sunny May evening.
I’m still smiling.
24
Train of Thought
Bex, Jake, Happi and I end up making fruit smoothies and hanging out until the light fades. The old railway carriage feels like our space, a neutral territory where we can re
lax, be ourselves. Mostly, we’re just chatting and chilling, but Jake is also mapping out rough designs for his new Love Letters flyer, Bex is making a new list of who has promised to do what, Happi is checking the library social media pages and I am trying not to get cross about the text that’s just buzzed in from Marley.
Sorry for the no-show.
Something came up.
‘Marley Hayes is driving me nuts,’ I say, reading the text again and failing to spot any sign of an explanation. ‘He’s just texted me to apologize for not turning up, though he doesn’t sound especially sorry. ‘Something came up, he says. What does that even mean?’
‘Maybe he got sidetracked writing a song?’ Jake suggests.
‘Maybe it was a family thing?’ Happi offers.
‘Maybe it was a girl,’ Bex states, and I feel tears stinging my eyes and blink them away before anyone can see.
‘C’mon, Bex,’ Jake cuts in. ‘I know you don’t like him, but don’t blacken his name when he’s not here to defend himself …’
‘Whatever,’ Bex snaps. ‘I don’t like him because I don’t want Lexie to get hurt. I’ve never seen him with anyone for more than two weeks. He’d be better off getting a job at Millford tip than trying for the music business because dumping is his number-one skill. We’ve seen how he takes you for granted, Lexie. I just worry – that’s all!’
‘I’m fine!’ I argue. ‘We’re OK, honest!’
‘That’s not what you said a minute ago,’ Happi points out gently.
‘Well, no, but that’s because the text bugged me,’ I say. ‘In general, most of the time, I’m OK.’
‘Are you?’ Bex questions. ‘I’m not so sure. I’ve seen it before, Lexie, remember? The feeling low, feeling sad. The whole point of this Lost & Found thing was to make new friends, have more fun, and I’m enjoying it, but I’m not so sure about you!’
Love from Lexie Page 11
