Raven made a noncommittal sound that could have meant anything.
"And there's the green," Annabelle continued, undeterred. "Every summer we have the village fete there. Last year, Gloria tried to stage a full production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, but it rained halfway through and everyone had to shelter in the marquee. Daisy ended up playing Puck because the original actor got food poisoning from the hog roast."
"Sounds like a disaster," Raven said.
"Oh, it was brilliant," Annabelle said cheerfully. "Half the audience was drunk on Pimm's and nobody could remember their lines, but everyone had a wonderful time. They did Streetcar Named Desire a couple of years back, and Lilah Paxton was the lead. It was amazing, even if it ended up a bit more… lesbian-y than Tennessee Williams might have intended."
From behind her sunglasses, Raven might have been looking at her. Annabelle couldn't quite tell.
They collected books from the post office, where Daisy provided a running commentary on who had donated what and why: the pub, where Arty had accumulated an impressive stack including what appeared to be several first editions; and Blossom's Café, where Blossom pressed coffee and biscuits on them both despite Raven's protests.
Back in the car, surrounded by boxes of books, Annabelle felt something warm settle in her chest. This was why she did this. Because people cared. Because communities came together. Because books mattered.
"Jamie's doing so much better, by the way," she said as they headed toward the school. "The buddy system is working wonderfully. He seems so much happier having Oliver and Emma checking in on him regularly."
"Is he?" Raven's voice was carefully neutral.
"Oh yes. I mean, he's still quiet, but that's just his nature. But now he's got friends actively including him, making sure he's not alone. It's exactly what he needed."
Raven didn't respond.
"Sometimes children just need a little structure," Annabelle continued, warming to her theme. "A little gentle support system to help them through difficult times. I wish I'd thought of it sooner, honestly. It's such a simple solution."
"Right," Raven said.
Annabelle smiled. "It's nice when you can see a problem and actually fix it, you know?"
They pulled into the school car park, and Annabelle unbuckled her seatbelt, already mentally cataloging where they'd store all the books.
"Wait here," she said. "I'll just pop in and find Nina to help us carry everything inside. Won't be a moment."
She hopped out of the car and hurried toward the school entrance, mentally adding "organize books" to her ever-growing to-do list. Behind her, Raven remained in the car, hood up, sunglasses on.
ANNABELLE WAS DISCUSSING where to put the books with Nina when she heard shouting outside.
Her stomach dropped.
She ran.
When she burst through the school doors, she found a scene that would have been hilarious if it weren't so mortifying. Raven was standing next to the car, hands raised in what appeared to be surrender, while PC Davies, all six-foot-three of him, stood with his notebook out, looking deeply suspicious.
And Karen Butterworth, a Year Two parent with a vocal concern about "stranger danger," was standing nearby with her phone out, clearly having made the call.
"I'm telling you, I was just sitting in the car," Raven was saying, her voice tight with barely controlled fury.
"Sitting in a car. Outside a school. In a disguise." PC Davies didn't look convinced.
"It's not a disguise, it's sunglasses!"
"And a hood. Covering your face. Near children."
"Oh my God," Annabelle breathed.
Everyone turned to look at her.
"PC Davies," she said, hurrying forward. "It's fine. She's with me."
"Ms. Swift." PC Davies looked relieved to see her. "Mrs. Butterworth called in a suspicious person lurking near the school grounds."
