He’d hoped he might receive at least a neutral welcome home from his dad, knowing it wouldn’t be a warm one; but it sounded like he wasn’t going to be welcome at all. The call had been enough to send him shrinking into himself, and when he’d returned to the silent reading group and found Annie hunched over, absorbed in her book, having totally forgotten about him, he’d shrunk further still. She’d disappeared to bed with her book leaving Harri to lock up, giving him time alone to lecture himself on how he’d so easily abandoned his promise to let Annie enjoy her holiday untroubled and in peace.Typical Harri, always letting everyone down, he’d told himself, picturing how his parents must be at home at that very moment arguing about what to do with their disappointing son when he showed up with all his stuff in a few days’ time. He could hear his mum attempting to plead for him, saying how he was just out of a relationship and had nowhere else to go. Harri had fallen asleep at dawn picturing his dad with that firm-set mouth and folded arms calling him ‘hopeless’ and ‘far too old to be so far behind’.
This morning, seeing Annie uncomfortable and desperate to get away from him, he’d vowed to concentrate on the bookselling side of things and less on being a slave to his needy, guilty feelings.
He’d been glad when Jowan arrived bringing William and the boxes they’d won at the auction. Jowan had dragged the boxes right to the door on a little sled like a grizzled Santa Claus delivering Christmas gifts. Aldous had hitched a ride on the sled too and now he was fast asleep by the shop fire.
Jowan hadn’t said anything in advance about planning on helping out today but evidently that’s what was happening. Harri assumed, since William had no place to be, and he was most likely a bit lonely, he’d be sticking around all day as well. The village elders were clearly claiming him for themselves and Harri couldn’t think of a better community to undertake the task.
‘Any news on the sale of the castle?’ Harri asked in a low voice while the antiquarian read peacefully by the fire.
‘There’s a public consultation planned for tomorrow,’ answered Jowan. ‘The Happy Holiday Park seems keen to acquire the land from the Crown. Word coming out of the council offices is that the company has already drawn up plans to develop the site. Eighty-eight static caravans and cabins around a camp hub with indoor heated pool,’ confirmed Jowan gravely. ‘But you didn’t hear that from me, and certainly not from my Mint,’ he added, very much like a man whose wifedefinitelyknew someone on the council and had wheedled the news from them.
‘Sounds quite nice,’ said Harri, thinking how it was exactly the kind of place his parents would have taken him on holiday when he was little, when he’d been the apple of his dad’s eye, his mini me, before he’d become a worry.
Jowan didn’t seem convinced.
‘Was there really nothing left for William?’ asked Harri in a whisper. ‘It’s rotten he’s lost his best friend and his home all in one go. Isn’t he entitled to something?’
‘Well…’ began Jowan, scratching his chin. ‘Mint might have made some enquiries amongst her lawyer pals – and she knows a thing or two about the law herself, having inherited a great big house and a great big debt from her old man. Unfortunately, she’s certain there’s nothing can be done. Them having lived together, them being friends, him being hiscarereven, doesn’t mean he’s entitled to a cut of anything. Even if he has just lost his home. The whole estate belonged to the Courtenay family, and now they’re gone.’
‘What’ll happen to William?’ whispered Harri.
Jowan inhaled through his teeth like the news wasn’t good. ‘There’s the problem of him being of no fixed abode. He’s technically homeless. We can shelter him as much as we likes, but Social Services are still involved. They’ll find him somewhere permanent to stay.’
‘In Clove Lore?’ Harri asked. That didn’t sound so bad.
Jowan shook his head and leaned closer. ‘You didn’t hear this from me, but rumour has it they’re looking at sheltered accommodation as far afield as Taunton.’
They both looked at William, absorbed in his book.
‘Looks like he’s in his element here,’ said Harri. ‘A bookshop’s the next best thing to his big old library. Can’t he stay here?’
Jowan raised a sandy brow. ‘If this was a novel, probably. But, this is real life an’ that man needs looking after. You saw what happened when he stopped taking his medication and wasn’t feeding himself proper.’
It was all very well for Harri to wish for more for William, but he was leaving in a few days and was hardly in a position to know what was right for him, or to volunteer the village’s permanent residents into roles as his new carers, no matter how well suited they might be for it.
‘It just seems a shame,’ said Harri. ‘How he can’t make his own decisions.’
With a hand on his shoulder to show he agreed, Jowan gave him a conciliatory pat.
‘Come on, let’s unpack those boxes of books you bought for us. I’m sure William can tell us all about them.’
Annie pinched at her screwed eyelids and the screen glared blue. Her morning’s work had at least been worth the eye strain and the anxiety of opening her inbox.
First of all, she’d logged into her emails to find messages from her senior library colleagues. Cassidy had been right. Their plans to get the community on their side were well underway. A meeting had been called at the school for parents, students and the relevant library associations to attend and share their concerns. The school library had been temporarily closed. None of the volunteer parents were authorised to work the systems and the whole thing had ground to a halt so they’d reluctantly reinstated Linda and Kimmy, just as Cassidy had said.
She’d fired off replies straight away, pledging her support, saying sorry for being so quiet. She’d been frightened. The intimidation was real.
If anyone was going to understand, it was her colleagues. Harri had been outraged on her behalf but he couldn’t ever know what it was like to be a woman facing down public humiliation and frightening accusations in a time and place where, all around her, women’s rights were being stripped back by cold, careless conservatives, as though decades of fighting for basic freedoms had meant nothing at all, even when Annie knew that as a white, cis woman with a place to live and a university degree she didn’t suffer the half of it.
Satisfied that her colleagues couldn’t doubt her support, she’d checked the latest news reports about libraries in similar positions to her own, only deeper into the fight. Her heart dropped reading about the librarians whose careers had been curtailed by wildly dangerous allegations. One image accompanying a news story showed a mother on a school yard, their mouth set in a stern line. Their homemade banner shoutedlibrarians, keep your mitts off our kids.Seeing it had made her queasy with indignation and dread.
There were stories of support too. Of librarians who’d taken on the book bans and won, but it had come at a cost to everyone involved, and most especially to the kids at the centre of all this. Kids who, Annie knew, deserved books they could read for free, housed in a safe, well-resourced library that belonged to them, and with a book collection as diverse, wonderful, entertaining and unique as them.
Annie’s jaw was clenched hard when Austen brought her a sandwich and tea at twelve. ‘Snack for the workers,’ she said in herCoronation Streettwang, plonking herself on a stool next to Annie at the kitchen bar.
Being a Monday, Radia was at school and her mother, Joy, was working at her little tech-support station in the bedroom she shared with Monty. Patti had gone up to the Big House a while ago to show a prospective bride and groom around the wedding facilities. This had been exactly the headspace Annie needed.
‘Thanks for this,’ said Annie.
