“Pensioners!” Mrs.B shrieked. “Who’s she calling a bloody pensioner?”
“I turned up this morning and all this was going on,” an elderly lady was saying to Tessa. “Usually on a Wednesday I come for the Knit and Natter group, but today it’s a bit more exciting.”
Now Stanley appeared in front of them. “Older people like me need the library. I don’t have a personal computer at home—I didn’t even know how to turn one on until June here taught me. If the library closes, how will I go surfing?”
“Go surfing?” Chantal said. “Don’t you mean, surfing the Internet?”
“That’s not everything I said,” Stanley said.
“We started occupying the library last night.” Mrs.B was being interviewed. “I’ve been protesting for more than forty years. I was at Greenham Common in the eighties and I went to Wales for the miners.”
Tessa was on the screen again. “OAPs like these hope that their protest will convince Dunningshire Council to protect the village library. And in the meantime, there’s plenty of tea and cake for everyone.”
It cut to shots of Vera and the older ladies eating Leila’s cake. “This sponge is delicious,” one of them said, licking her lips. Then the news cut back to the studio.
June turned the monitor off and everyone stood in silence, staring at the blank screen.
“I can’t believe she called me a fucking OAP,” Mrs.B said.
“I said so many eloquent things,” Stanley said. “Why did they only use that surfing line?”
Chantal was frowning. “It looked really lame.”
“Look, let’s all calm down, please,” June said. “I know that piece seemed a bit skewed, but at least we got our protest on the news.”
There was a knock on the door.
“If it’s that Tessa woman, tell her to piss off,” Mrs.B growled.
Stanley went to see who it was. A moment later he reappeared, followed by Alex, who was carrying two large plastic bags. June’sheart momentarily lifted at the sight of him, and then fell when she remembered their embarrassing phone call and Ellie.
“Hi, all. I’ve brought your food,” Alex said, putting the bags down on a table.
“We didn’t order anything?” Mrs.B asked, and they all shook their heads.
“Well, it’s yours,” Alex said. “Someone paid for it earlier.”
“Well, hurry up, then. I’m starving.”
They gathered round the table as Alex began unloading the cartons, the food a welcome distraction from the news.
“Here, I brought you this,” he said, handing June a large dish of chicken in black bean sauce.
“Thank you.” She took the box without looking him in the eye.
June opened the lid but felt too self-conscious to start eating. For eight years, she’d eaten this dish alone at home with a book—had eaten almost every meal alone at home with a book. It felt strange to be having it here, in the library, with four other people chatting around her. June looked across the table. Mrs.B and Stanley were having an animated conversation about the news piece, and Alex was telling Chantal a story about his time at university that was making her laugh. They all looked so at ease together, reaching across one another to grab spring rolls and prawn crackers as they talked. June took a mouthful of her food. When was the last time she’d had a meal with a group of people, other than at that hideous hen do? She scanned back in her mind but realized with a start that she couldn’t remember. Had it really been before her mum died? How was that possible?
“You guys, Facebook has gone crazy.” Chantal was looking at her phone. “And we’ve had another six hundred signatures on the online petition.”
“That’s marvelous.” Stanley grabbed his glass of water and lifted it in the air. “To the Friends of Chalcot Library!”
“To the Friends of Chalcot Library,” they all replied, and June laughed as she raised her glass and joined in the toast.
•••
Half an hour later, June was so full of food she could barely move. Mrs.B and Chantal were clearing up the table, and Stanley and Alex were deep in conversation, their heads close together. June stretched out in her chair, enjoying the satisfied warmth of a good meal.
After a while, Alex stood up. “I’d better get back—my aunt will kill me for being gone so long.”