“I imagine they’ll try to get a court order to have us evicted.”
“What do we do until then?”
“We could make ourselves useful,” Mrs.B said. “I can’t remember the last time this place had a lick of paint.”
“I can go to the shop now and buy some supplies,” June said, keen to get out of the library for some fresh air.
“No, you need to have something to eat first,” Stanley said. “It looks like it might be a long old slog. You’ll need your energy.”
•••
By the middle of the afternoon, the library was busier than June had ever seen it. Word had got out about the protest and more people had turned up, filling every corner of the room. All the chairs were taken, and people stood around chatting, children running between their legs. Mrs.Bransworth was debating the merits of socialism with a group of students by the Periodicals rack and Stanley was sitting in the Children’s Room readingThe Twitsto some of the little ones. Chantal was there with several of her friends and Jackson was reciting his haiku to anyone who’d listen. Even Vera was there, acting as unofficial security on the front door. June looked round the room and felt a rush of affection for them all.
“June, there’s someone here to see you,” Vera shouted. When June got to the door, she saw the journalist Tessa and her camerawoman scanning the room.
“Any strippers?” Tessa said.
“Rocky preferred the term ‘exotic dancer,’ ” Vera said. “I told June we should have invited him.”
“Did people really sleep here last night?” Tessa said.
“Yep.” June pointed out Stanley and Mrs.Bransworth.
“Those two? Cleo, get some shots over there.” Tessa signaled toward Stanley reading with the kids. “I think we can make a nice little story out of this.”
June spotted Leila approaching the library with her son, Mahmoud, who was carrying a cardboard box.
“Sorry, it’s a bit chaotic in here today,” June said when theywalked in. “We’re having a protest against the council wanting to shut the library.”
“We heard,” Mahmoud said.
Leila nudged him and he handed the box over to June. She lifted off the lid and saw it contained several cakes, each beautifully decorated.
“Victoria sponge... chocolate... coffee,” Leila said. “Delia Smith.”
“Oh, Leila, you didn’t have to.”
“Is that cake?” Vera was peering over June’s shoulder into the box.
June unloaded the cakes onto the table and soon there was a crowd of older ladies cooing over the delicate icing flowers and helping themselves to generous slices. Tessa nodded and Cleo turned her camera to film them.
“Oh, this sponge is delicious,” said one of the women.
Vera picked up a bit of chocolate cake and sniffed it.
“Go on,” the women said.
Vera put a small piece in her mouth and chewed it, her face scrunched up.
“Thank you, Leila,” June said. “It’s so kind of you to bring the cake.”
“I... I think...” Leila frowned and looked at Mahmoud, then began speaking in Arabic. Her son translated.
“Mum says she’d be sad if the library closes. She likes coming here for the cookery books, but also because she likes to see all the different people here. The children singing. It reminds her of home.”
June felt a lump in her throat for the second time in twenty-four hours. “Please tell your mum we’re fighting to save the library. I promise, we’re doing everything we can.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO