‘I know. And if she gets a job up there, she might come home less often,’ I said gloomily, suddenly foreseeing a future where the library campaign fails, I’m back to scrabbling around for freelance editing, working in an empty house, no colleagues to distract me from the gaping vacuum of my daughter’s absence…
‘I mean, obviously I can try and pick up some extra clients too,’ he said pulling into the multistorey. ‘I don’t want to put all the pressure on you. But we do need a regular second income. For Layla.’
And for the ongoing golf membership, private lessons and new set of clubs, I thought to myself.
‘Well, we’d better make a real impact today then!’ I was determined to use the threat of personal impoverishment as a positive motivational factor to save the library for everyone. ‘Can you give me a hand with the banners – and by give me a hand I mean can you carry them to the library? The plan is to have our muster station there, in the library itself – we can get ourselves prepped and then close the building when the march begins.’
‘Muster station. Sounds quite military,’ Joe said. ‘I like it.’
‘That’s very much the vibe,’ I said. ‘Precision targets, constructive action – or at least, top quality shouting and slogans.’
‘And you’re senior commander, are you?’
‘More like one of the generals. I’d put David as commander-in-chief,’ I said as I hauled out the first placard and handed it to my husband.
‘Right then,’ he said, clicking his heels together and giving me a salute. ‘Let’s go!’
When we arrived at the library a small crowd had already gathered. David opened up and we all filed into the main reception while he put the kettle on for a rallying coffee. I had borrowed the flip chart from the reading room and drew a large route map on it in marker pen, talking everyone through the timings – when we would set off, when the local news teams were turning up and where the other library teams would be joining us. The idea was that we were all to hold stationary protests outside our individual libraries from ten until midday and then we would march as a collective across Market Square, down the high street to City Hall, where we would remain for another hour. David would hand over the petition (which now had over four thousand signatures), say a few words, and we would then return to our respective libraries to debrief.
I was pleased to see Javid and Shannay from the cafe already involved in taking orders for drinks and sandwiches to sustain us on our march and by the time we made it outside with our placards, Ren had set up the PA system (a microphone and amp borrowed from their electro-pop thrash-metal crossover band) and was shouting, ‘Save our Libraries!’ and ‘What do we want? Library funding! When do we want it? Now!’ to a crowd of bemused shoppers.
A few moments later, a packed Mackenzie bus rounded the corner with Colin seated up front next to the driver, Derek. Someone had hung a painted bedsheet from the bus windows so that the whole of one side saidWe Love City Library.Every single person got off, laden with their own banners and posters and Colin bossed them all into position on the library steps. Malia had already joined us with what looked to be half the population of primary school mums in the local area and most of the kids. They had all brought posters too. Apparently, Malia had gone into school two weeks ago and given a talk during assembly about the importance of libraries, and the details of theplanned protest. School had then allowed the pupils to design their own banners and the link to the petition was sent home in the school newsletter. As a result, we had an army of very competent women balancing toddlers on one hip and placards in the opposite hand whilst also somehow managing to wipe the noses of their five-year-olds, open cartons of juice and jiggle pushchairs.
There was barely room for everyone to stand on the pavement, and we soon began to spill out into the road. Thankfully Ren had also managed to source some traffic cones from a friend who worked for the Highways Agency (Ren’s list of contacts was varied and extensive) and these allowed us to create additional standing room while the traffic slowed to a crawl around us. Nobody seemed too pissed off about having their journey delayed and if nothing else we provided an entertaining spectacle, to the point where some people driving past offered spontaneously to park up and join us, which was all extremely cheering. Especially when the number forty-five bus came round the corner and tooted their support all the way around Market Square before coming to a stop on the other side of the road. And who should I see emerging from the bus as the electric doors opened with a hiss? My mother! And four of her friends from Bridge Club. Two of them appeared to be wearing cargo pants and one had a Greenham CommonBan the Bombt-shirt on, which whilst not strictly relevant, still matched the general mood. Mum was wearing pastel sneakers, a t-shirt withNolite te bastardes carborundorum!fromThe Handmaid’s Taleemblazoned across the front, a pink woollen coat, and pale blue linen trousers topped off with a book-patterned bandana and two enamel book pins, which proved to be quite the look.
‘Darling!’ she hailed me. ‘Judith is on her way with some of the wives from Rotary. They’re having a bit of bother finding adisabled parking space for Margaret’s wheelchair, but they’ll be here as soon as possible. Ooh, hello young man, I like your dog.’
‘Mum, this is Nathan,’ I said. ‘And this is Dot.’ I crouched down to pat her and saw that she was wearing a small harness with a cardboard placard attached like an antenna that said,Dogs prefer owners who read books.
‘I love it!’ I said to Nathan as I straightened back up again with a creak.
He smiled shyly. ‘I’ve brought a few friends,’ he said, gesturing to a group who were gathered near the bicycle stands. ‘We’re going for aDogs Love Librariesmood, as you can see from the posters. Pretty much everyone from the shelter who has a dog is here. And pretty much everyone who doesn’t have a dog.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ I said, thinking that was probably the most I’d ever heard Nathan say in one go. ‘They can keep Pilot company on the march. I think David’s going to have to take it quite slowly with his hip.’ I looked over my shoulder. ‘He’s just there,’ I said to both Mum and Nathan. ‘Co-ordinating everything. Go and say hello – he’ll be so pleased to see you.’
By eleven o’clock our numbers had swelled considerably, and I had started to lose track of who was where. Thankfully, the police had agreed to extend the cordon provided for Market Square all the way back to the library building to avoid the chance of serious injury, and a young constable called Josh had been stationed outside the derelict kebab shop to advise approaching motorists of the diversion. A group of Ren’s friends from one of the local drag clubs had turned up in full performance regalia and I handed a placard to a very striking individual who was wearing seven-inch platforms and a feathered headdress that meant she towered above the rest of us.
‘I think we should have you up front, Vivienne,’ I said. ‘When we start marching. Are you going to be alright in those heels?’
‘I can do all sorts of things in these heels, love,’ she said gamely. ‘A skip across the square for a good cause isn’t going to trouble me at all.’
‘Excellent,’ I said, slightly overawed. ‘Can you see David? You’ve got much better visibility across the crowd than I have. He’s about five nine, grey hair, black labrador beside him.’
Vivienne spotted him and pointed me in the right direction with her sparkling purple manicure. I wiggled my way through the gathered bodies, trying to avoid tripping over pushchairs, wheelchairs, toddlers and dogs in the process.
‘Phewf,’ I said as I finally reached him. ‘Can’t believe how many people are here!’
He beamed as he looked up from his clipboard. He was holding a cup of hot chocolate, which he thrust into my hand. ‘Javid brought another whole tray round,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ve just been trying to allocate placards so they’re visible for the photos before we march. I think I’ve already seen one of the local news teams setting up and loads of people are taking pictures on their phones. Mainly just members of the public but there will be some journalists about too – Nathan’s got a friend called Angus who’s writing an article forThe Big Issueabout the importance of public library access for marginalised groups. So, I want to make sure all our best slogans are on display.’ I looked up. ‘Ooh, I like yours.’
David was holding a banner with the words,The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man, emblazoned across it.
‘T.S. Eliot,’ he said, pointing to the name in the bottom corner. ‘I always make sure I credit my sources.’
‘That’s because you’re an excellent librarian,’ I said. ‘Have you seen the one Mum’s holding?You’ve got to Fight. For your Right. To Library, with the Beastie Boys logo beneath it?I’m wondering if it’s a bit inflammatory. Might be construed as inciting violence?’
‘It’s better than the other one she brought with her,’ said David, pointing to a discarded placard propped up against the wall with the wordsSay NO to cuts from council c*ntsscrawled across it in red paint.
