Chapter Thirty-Three
I spent the days following Layla’s return to university immersing myself in plans to save the library, aware that I was using the project as distraction, but equally aware it was a very worthy distraction that would potentially benefit the wider community as much as my own immediate family. After discussing the situation with Joe, he had reminded me that I had been really good at organising events back in my PTA days. These had often been arranged at very short notice, on a shoestring budget and working with a committee composed of some extraordinary characters (and by extraordinary what I really mean is, bossy, inept, chronically sleep deprived, and egomaniacal).
‘Do you remember that lunatic Siobhan?’ he said as we were getting ready for bed. ‘The one who said that there shouldn’t be wine at the PTA cheese and wine event because it sent an unhealthy message about substance abuse?’
‘Not as bad as Helena trying to justify spending the proceeds of the Easter bake sale on scuba-diving equipment for the year fours just because her family were heading off to the Maldives for a fortnight that summer. Or Sam with the twins who kept falling asleep during committee meetings, even when they were being held at her house – we’d get to like point five on the agenda and she’d be slumped in her chair snoring. Or Isha who said she was happy to run the barbeque at the fete and then didn’t buy any sausages, or burgers, or rolls and just spent the whole budget on quiche that nobody ate. Or Jackie who left the WhatsApp group that she herself had set up for the year six leavers party because nobody wanted to go paintballing and she said everyone was bullying her.’
‘And wasn’t there an actual physical fight? About raffle tickets or something?’
‘Oh god yeah,’ I said emphatically as I pulled my nightie on. ‘Della and Amy. Mrs Pratt had to be called in to split them up. And there was that terrifying mum, Veronika, who threw a Petit Filous yoghurt at Farah during the family picnic quiz because she didn’t agree with one of the answers.’
‘See,’ Joe said as I snuggled under the covers and tucked my feet under his calf to warm them up. ‘You’ve managed to organise all sorts of successful events with that motley crew. At least the library is staffed by committed, enthusiastic people with a basic level of common sense. A project like this will really play to your strengths, you just need to decide where to focus your collective energies.’
‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
‘We need to stage a protest,’ I said to David at the action group meeting the following morning. I’d suggested we pull together a small group to discuss immediate plans but so far we were averysmall group, essentially just me, Ren and David. Malia was keen to be involved but she couldn’t stay late on weekdays, same for Colin, and Akil’s mum had said he had too much homework to join an action group.
‘Erm. We have tried demonstrating before,’ said David. ‘Back in 2018. We held a protest outside the council offices.’
‘And did it work?’
‘Not really,’ said David. ‘No. They still cut the funding.’
‘Oh.’ I looked down at the list I’d made. ‘Well, how about we do it again but much bigger and much better – no offence to your 2018 protest group.’
‘It might help to join up with other libraries facing similar issues,’ said Ren. ‘Louder voice. More impact.’
‘Great idea,’ I said, tickingwiden circle of supportoff my list. ‘Can you get in touch with the other local libraries who are still operational? As you say, council funding cuts will affect all of them to the same degree and for some of the smaller ones it’s likely the difference between staying open and closing for good.’
‘Could be the case for the bigger ones too,’ muttered David.
‘All the more reason to band together,’ I said.
‘I’m sure there was a successful campaign in Essex a few years back,’ said Ren. ‘I think they staged a protest march that went around all the affected libraries.’
‘Across the whole of Essex?’ I said. ‘Must have been a pretty long march.’
‘I think they broke it up into sections, sort of handing the baton over to the next locality each time, so nobody ended up walking more than about eight miles. I’ll ask my friend Dita about it. She works as a registrar for Chelmsford council and she’s pretty militant herself. She’ll be all over the various protests against cuts.’
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Now, I’ve been in touch with the National Literacy Trust and they’re keen to help if they can. They suggested contacting all the local schools and they’ve got a list of those which have school libraries – many don’t – and they’re the ones we need to target really because those kids’ only access to library facilities is through us. I’ve also emailed our local MP. I’ve had a generic response so far but I’ll keep at it. I was thinking I could set up a petition too. I can arrange an online link, that’s probably easiest for most people, but we could have a paper petition that library users like Eileen might be happier with too.
‘Layla is looking into our social media and how we can reach people that way. Our Instagram only has fourteen hundredfollowers at the moment and the last time we posted was before Christmas. We also probably need a TikTok account but the home pages on that site always make me feel physically sick so I might not be the best person to sort that. Do you think Akil would be able to guide us around it? As a young person.’
‘I’ve got a TikTok account,’ said Ren, looking slightly affronted. ‘It’s not just for teenagers.’
‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Do you think you could set up a library one? I can man the Facebook page. That’s where we’ll get a lot of the more middle-aged locals. We should be able to spread the word. And we’ll need things like posters for the foyer and out the front, we could ask Shannay if she might help us out. Just thinking about her graphic novels, she’s got a lovely eye for design.’
David was smiling. ‘That’s great, Hattie,’ he said. ‘So many ideas. I admire your gumption.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, feeling a little glow of pride. ‘And David, I was thinking you could maybe get in touch with some of your contacts from the publishing world. Any famous authors? A couple of big names lending their support to the campaign could make all the difference…’ I raised my eyebrows hopefully.
‘Hmm. I’ll have a think,’ he said. ‘There might be one or two people…’ He mentioned Bryce Taylor, a prominent international cricketer who’d co-written a series of children’s books a few years ago and also Hamish McFarlane, a famous crime writer who owed him a favour.
‘Perfect,’ I said. ‘That’s exactly the type of person we need. Recognisable faces signing the petition and maybe even joining the march?’
‘Steady on,’ said David. ‘I don’t think we’re going to get Hamish out on a march. He doesn’t reallylikepeople, let alone large crowds of them.’
‘No matter,’ I said. ‘Get in touch and see what he can do.’ I tickedcelebrity endorsementoff my list. ‘I think we’re on track.’I beamed around the room (alright, beamed at two people). ‘We’ve got five weeks to change the minds of the county council and restore the funding in its entirety.’
