If I tell myself that Layla being away from home is only temporary, then maybe by the time I realise it’s permanent I’ll have healed sufficiently to withstand the waves of sadness; those waves that would appear unassailable if I were to let them wash over me right now. It does sometimes feel like I am holding back a tide, and that every now and then a trickle of it seeps through my fingers or buffers me from the side. A continual, albeit partial, drowning in loss. And that’s the thing about self-delusion. It can only last so long. Because there’s always goingto be a bit of sadness leaking through. Always a chunk of me missing. Even when I’m Mum’s age, even when I’m older than that, an ancient crumbling centurion, maybe – there’ll still be something that was once a part of my actual body, something I grew inside me for nine months, and raised and nurtured for years after, that has left me, and is instead busying herself about the world completely independent of me, probably finding me a bit of a bother, if she thinks of me at all.
I know it’s supposed to happen. I know it’s the burden of parenthood to bear the sorrow of letting them go as compensation for the joy of having them in the first place. But it’s hard.
April
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘Have you seen the placard?’ I said, racing around the kitchen picking up piles of clothing and opening cupboard doors.
‘Which one?’ said Joe. ‘I like big books and I cannot lie, orLive, Laugh, Library? By the way, I don’t think either of them is going to be under that saucepan.’
‘Well, now I’ve lost my keys as well,’ I said. ‘So, I’m looking for a variety of things.’
‘Your keys are here.’ He held them up. ‘And the placards are in the car already. I put them there ten minutes ago.’
‘Carefully?’ I said, knowing what Joe’s version of putting something in the car meant.
‘Yes. Carefully.’ He walked up to me like a zookeeper approaching a particularly volatile orangutan and put his hands on my shoulders. ‘Hattie. It’s all going to be fine. The weather forecast says it’ll stay dry, the teams from Sunnyhill and North End libraries have already confirmed they’re coming to join you for the march, the police are going to cordon off Market Square for you…’ He planted a kiss on the top of my head. ‘You don’t need to worry.’
‘What if there’s nobody there to see us though?’ I wailed, my forehead creasing into a thousand folds. ‘What if every library worker in the county is out protesting on the streets and not a single person in authority ever hears about it? All this work will be for nothing!’
‘This demonstration has been promoted all over everyone’s social media and in every building and noticeboard across town,’ he said. ‘There was an announcement in this week’s local paper. You even got a mention on Radio Four’s book club when HamishMcFarlane was on there promoting his novel last week. That’s national coverage. People dream of that kind of publicity!’
‘Well, it was more of a passing comment,’ I said, starting to calm down. ‘But nice of him nonetheless.’ I took a deep breath. ‘And you’re right. I just hope people will take notice and pay attention to what we’re saying. I’m just worried it might all feel a bit performative and middle class.’
‘I think you’ll have a good cross-section of society interested in what you’re doing today,’ he said, steering me by the shoulders in the direction of the front door. ‘And as you’re always saying,libraries are for everyone.’
‘That’s another one of the placards,’ I said, pleased.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘That’s the one that gave me the splinter when I squashed it into the boot. Joking! Joking!’
In the car the two poles connecting the larger,Love Your Library, banner kept poking me in the back of the head. ‘It’s like sitting on the backseat with Layla’s yucca plant in my face when we took her up to university,’ I said as I batted the poles away from my ear for the fifth time.
‘That’s probably the last time we had the car this full,’ said Joe as we pulled up to the roundabout. ‘Just think, end of this term we’ll be driving back up to collect it all again.’
‘God, yes. I can’t believe she’s only got another term in halls.’
‘Still, the photos she showed us of that student house look okay, don’t they?’ he said referring to the rental agency website images we’d pored over when Layla was home for Easter.
‘Well, it’s kind of hard to tell,’ I said. ‘I think we need to get a better feel of the area really. I mean, we don’t know what the crime rate is like in that part of the city, what the traffic densityis – if there’s a load of exhaust fumes it might trigger her asthma. We don’t know whether there are supermarkets nearby, what the standard of street lighting is like, how safe she’s going to be walking back from bars at night…’
‘Hattie, Layla’s asthma has been fine for years. She’s barely used her inhaler. And I’m sure they’ve thought these things through, her and these new housemates. At least Ihopethey have because we’ve paid the bloody deposit now.’ He indicated to turn off into the one-way system near the multistorey.
‘I know,’ I said, thinking of the two months’ rent we’d paid up front. ‘We’re still okay though, moneywise?’
He tilted his head in a sort of yes and no gesture. ‘We’re okay, yeah. We might need to tighten our belts a bit though if…’ He trailed off.
‘You mean if the cuts go ahead and we lose my income,’ I said.
‘Well… I just…’ He turned to glance at me. ‘I think it’s brilliant, what you’ve managed to achieve here Hattie, pulling this all together and mobilising everyone – really amazing.’
‘But…?’
‘But we need to be realistic. We need to consider what happens if this doesn’t work. I mean, you’re bringing in less than half your previous salary this month – essentially, you’re working for half of minimum wage. And I know you love the place and this whole campaign has fired you up, which is great, but it’s not a sustainable solution. We’re not in a position where you can afford to be doing voluntary work like David is. We’re at a different stage of life. We’ve got a mortgage and bills and a daughter who’s at university in an expensive place.’
‘Layla has offered to contribute more to the rent,’ I said. ‘She was talking about looking for bar work during term time and getting more shifts at the supermarket.’
‘And I’m glad that she understands about making a contribution,’ he said as he indicated left at the roundabout. ‘Buther supermarket shifts won’t cover her rent. And I want her to be able to enjoy her time at university without worrying too much about paying the bills and getting into huge amounts of debt. She’s got the rest of her life for that.’
