“It wasn’t just stuff like that. There were some really ordinary things that I’d never done, like going out dancing all night or camping.”
“Well, I hate camping too.”
They’d reached the takeaway, and June stopped. “I haven’t done anything with my life, Alex. Ever since Mum died, I’ve just shut myself away at home, hiding in the same old books so I didn’t have to go out and face the real world.”
“You’ve been grieving, June.”
“But I let myself become so isolated, even before she died.” June turned to look at Alex. “You know I told you I was friends with Gayle? Well, that was a lie—I was only there because Marjorie made her invite me. I don’t have any real friends.”
“Come on, I’m your friend. And what about Stanley?”
“Stanley’s kind to me but only because he feels sorry for me.”
“I know that isn’t true.”
“One of the women at the hen do said my life wastragic, and shewas right.” June swallowed. “My mum would be so disappointed in me.”
They were silent for a moment, and June watched people moving around inside the takeaway. Why was she telling Alex all this?
“You know that’s not true, don’t you?” he said. “You may not have hundreds of friends or been camping, but you’ve done lots that your mum would be proud of.”
June gave a small bitter laugh. “That’s rubbish. She wanted me to follow my dreams and be a writer.”
“But what about everything you’ve done for the library?”
“What about it? The place I love more than anywhere has been threatened, and until yesterday I’d done nothing except hide in the background, too scared to put my head above the parapet. If my mum was here, she’d have been—”
“June, you need to stop comparing yourself to your mum,” Alex said, cutting her short. “You’re your own person with your own qualities. Yeah, maybe you’re shy and prefer to keep to the back rather than shout from the front. But you’re also smart and kind and loyal, and I for one think you’re pretty amazing.”
Alex stopped talking and looked a little stunned at what he’d just said. The takeaway door opened, and a couple walked out. As they did, a small gray-haired woman behind the counter caught sight of them. “Alex, where’ve you been? I need you in here!”
“Coming, Auntie,” he called back as the door slammed shut. He looked at June. “I’m sorry, I have to go in.”
“That’s okay.” There was a pause and June stared at her feet. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you, Alex. I just felt humiliated after that phone call.”
“Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t around to help you. I really wish I could have been there for you.”
“Alex!” came the voice from inside, louder.
He looked at June and shrugged helplessly. “Good night.”
“Good night, Alex.”
June watched him walk inside, and the door swung shut behind him. She looked down the hill, toward her road and the comforts of home: her bed, the books, solitude.
And then June turned and made her way back up the hill, toward the people waiting for her at the library.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
June was repairing some damaged books when Alex walked in through the library front door. When she saw him she smiled, her heart beating faster. Alex kept his eyes locked on hers as he walked toward her, never breaking his gaze. When he reached June he didn’t say anything, just reached out and took her hand, pulling her up to standing in one deft movement. He leaned toward her, across the issue desk, so that his face was just centimeters from June’s. She held her breath, not daring to move as Alex stroked her cheek and whispered—
“Wake up, lazybones.”
June opened her eyes and sat up, dazed. There was Stanley, sitting in his chair reading the newspaper. There was Chantal, eating a chocolate croissant. And there was Mrs.B, thrusting a mug of tea toward her.
“This isn’t the time for a bloody lie-in—we have work to do.”
June took the mug and walked over to Stanley, hoping no one could see how flushed her cheeks were from that dream.