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‘Care to share what’s on your mind?’ my mother says, giving me her signature glare. It bounces right off me, but I know it burns other mere mortals into the ground.
‘It’s just that we’re always so focused on the money side of things. I’ve been reading this amazing self-development book by Simon Sinek calledStart with Whyand it’s really got me thinking about WHY we do what we do and WHAT we could achieve if we thought in those terms. Astor’s profits are up almost fifteen per cent compared to this time last year, yet we act like the sky is falling down and we’re all about to be unemployed.’
‘And do you knowwhyit’s up fifteen per cent, Ellie? Because we don’t take our foot off the gas;we don’t rest on our laurels. It’s not the Astor way.’
I’ll never be able to convince her otherwise, and it’s true, she’s built this business from the ground up. But there’s no sense of giving back, of appreciating what we have. She just raises the bar higher and expects everyone to work longer hours to achieve more.
‘Since you’re so sure Astor is infallible what do you suggest we do to increase revenue this quarter?’ she says with a glint in her eye that suggests she thinks I’m going to zip my lips and pretend I’m not here like I usually do.
I fidget with my pen. ‘Well, it’s not exactly revenue-raising but I’ve been approached by a librarian from a school in a lower socio-economic area about donating some of our returns for their library. And that got me thinking – a small percentage of our returns could essentially be donated to places in need, rather than letting them be destroyed. I hate to think of those books going to waste, and this way they’d go on to fulfil their destiny and be read by people who genuinely need them. I was thinking hospitals, rehabilitation centres, schools, the list is endless. Wouldn’t it be nice to give back instead of—’
Mother interrupts with a guffaw. ‘Let me get this straight. Your idea is todonateour returns to help us reach our KPIs? Ellie, listen to yourself! Giving away books does not lead to profit! Add in the cost of extra freight, it makes no sense. And it goes against everything we stand for. Your energy could best be spent working with sales to help keep returns as low as possible in order to prevent wastage. Apologies, team. Ellie’s had a lot of late nights and isn’t herself. Now, Marco, where are you at with the expansion plan for the Paddington bookshop bar?’
Normally, I’d sink back into my chair, knowing I’m defeated,but today I don’t feel like giving in. ‘Wait, I don’t think you’re hearing me. Of course I understand that giving books away wouldn’t lead to more profit. But business isn’tjustabout profit margins, is it? What about good PR? Instead of sending me to every red-carpet event, I could be liaising with community groups who needourhelp. I couldpersonallydeliver some of those returned books to places who need them, thus putting a name and face to Astor with a hefty dose of goodwill. We’realwaysgoing to get returns; it’s not a perfect science knowing exactly how many books will sell in any given shop. I know it’s important to focus on the bigger picture, strategic growth and all that jazz, but why not let me try this one charity initiative? Wouldn’t it do the Astor name a world of good…’ The room is deathly silent – will this be the day I convince my mother to take me seriously? When she doesn’t speak, I quickly add, ‘Which in time might lead to more profit if people associated Astor with being benevolent and helping out in the community.’
‘Darling,’ she says, gently. ‘We willnevergive away our product, never in a million years. It’s the basic rule of economics. If we start, where will it end? Next minute you’ll be giving away free drinks in our book bars to promote lengthy conversations or something equally impractical. No, that way lies madness. Now, back to you, Marco.’
Marco spends the next hour highlighting expansion plans for the five-level Paddington bookshop and bar, while I quietly seethe. My mum and I are two different people and it feels as if we’ll never be on the same page. One thing is certain, this isn’t the life I dreamed of, and something needs to change…
Chapter 3
Willow Grove library at risk of closure
The Chronicle by Finn Ford Posted Friday July 8th at 10.55 a.m.
Local city councillor Jason Stephens announced the grim news this morning that Willow Grove library is at risk of closure due to dwindling memberships and an increase in running costs. He warns that unless library memberships double, thus making the library eligible to apply for council funding, the doors will close at the end of the year. When the minutes of the meeting were published head librarian Agnes Bitterweather chose to take a redundancy package effective immediately, leaving Willow Grove library after a tenure of ten years. ‘It’s not the same anymore,’ she says. ‘People want to stare at screens like zombies. The sad fact is, the library just isn’t saveable.’
What will a town without books look like? Where will those who seek comfort in reading go? What about those who find joy in walking along the colourful racks in search of a fictional friend?Job applications are open for the position of head librarian. The successful candidate will have a monumental task on their hands to save Willow Grove library. Go to www.willowgrovelibrary/jobs to apply for the position.
A town without books?
The idea pierces my heart. And in sleepy little Willow Grove, no less. Teddy and I went to boarding school in Buckinghamshire, not far from there. I can still picture the library as it was when I was younger. Those hallowed halls full of the citrusy perfume of musty books. Shadowy recesses where I’d pull up a chair and discover secrets between the covers of hardback books. The many adventures I took, surrounded by soft-bound stacks. I loved the sheer escapism as the real world faded and I was lost inside a story.
Libraries are the lifeblood of communities, a safe space where residents converge, and literature is free for one and all. I imagine a despondent librarian shutting off the lights for the last time, the books thrown into darkness abandoned on shelves gathering dust for eternity. In the dim light of a forgotten library, I imagine the tomes murmuring sadly:Where did the readers go?
A sudden thought hits. There must be a reason I stumbled on this article on social media – I have to save Willow Grove library! But how?
‘Look at this.’ I hand my phone over to Teddy, who gives the news piece a cursory look. Outside, rain drums at the windows of my London townhouse, but I barely notice it. I’m already there in spirit at Willow Grove library, running my hands along the spines,making silent promises to them:You will be borrowed again…
Teddy runs a finger over the screen as he speed-reads and shrugs. ‘So what? It’s a tiny little concern in some forgotten town. I hated having to go to Willow Grove as a child. Talk about dull.’
Once a month we’d had school excursions to Willow Grove, the boys’ school on the opposite side of the road to us. I used to sneak into the library while everyone else gambolled by the river. And don’t even ask about Teddy – he got up to plenty of hijinks and was always being reprimanded for it.
I remember the scent of the well-thumbed books and the promise of escape trapped inside them. We had our own school library, but Willow Grove had an almost magical air about it. Back then it was dusty and disorderly as if the librarian would rather read than wander the aisles cleaning and sorting – I loved the idea of that. There were countless times I caught her, feet propped up underneath her as she read the day away. That sort of thing would be frowned upon these days, but back then it seemed fitting; after all, how could she recommend books if she hadn’t read them?
Even back then the library had an abandoned air to it, as if I were the only one who knew of its existence. I studied librarianship because I’d been so inspired by that place and its quirky librarian. It had been so different to the more sterile Astor News and Media, a corporate world purely run for profit as opposed to a library that’s there for the community with an emphasis on educational initiatives.
I’ve always dreamed of working at a slower pace, concentrating on people’s love of reading, rather than the nuts and bolts of publishing,spreadsheets and number crunching, done under blinding fluorescent office lights. How had I forgotten my dreams for so long?
‘How did the premiere go last night? Was Louise there?’
I roll my eyes. Louise did the narration forEyrieand Teddy is still upset he didn’t get to strut the red carpet – so he’s not listening to a word I’m saying. Last night Louise admitted to me that Teddy just doesn’t take life seriously enough for her, but I haven’t got the heart to tell him. He’s trying – he’s back on track at least, but there’s still those who doubt it’ll last, I guess. ‘Seriously, Teddy? Forget Louise. She’s off to Spain to shoot that movie, but she did mumble something about catching up for drinks when she gets back.’
‘Well, that’s something to look forward to.’ He grins. ‘Now what were you on about?’
‘Willow Grove. It’s more important that the libraryisin a small town. A town that was very good to us once upon a time.Everyoneneeds books – you of all people should appreciate that.’ I sigh. Sometimes my brother can be so blasé. Not hard to see why, the way we’ve grown up. Privileged is an understatement.
He gives me a blank stare, so I continue, ‘Imagine saving Willow Grove library. Achieving something thatmatters!’ From right back when I wore my hair in plaits I wanted to be a librarian. Even though books were always readily available to me at Astor I spent my formative years visiting libraries, feeling a kinship there. As though I belonged. I idolised those bespectacled women who seemed to float through the aisles, righting fallen volumes as they matched a novel to its reader.
