June raised her hand partially in the air until Mrs.Bransworth spotted her.
“Now, anyone who used the old library will remember June, who was so timid she wouldn’t say boo to a goose. But what many of you won’t know is that June was one of the fiercest defenders of this place, right from the very start. I gave her hell for a long time, but if it wasn’t for her we’d be standing in a bloody Cuppa Coffee right now. So, June, I know you’ve got a new home and life, but you will always be a true Friend of Chalcot Library. Thank you.”
June smiled, too overwhelmed to speak.
“There’s one last person I need to thank, and that’s our donor, who’s committed to help fund the running costs of the library going forward. He saved our arses when it became clear that our fund-raising efforts weren’t going to be enough.”
June glanced sideways and saw the handsome man smiling, and suddenly she felt her heart stop. The bright blue eyes. The slightly gappy teeth.
Mrs.B cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in saying a huge thank-you to our biggest supporter, the son of our much-missed Stanley... Mark Phelps.”
Everyone burst into applause, but June was too stunned to move. Stanley’s son was here, in Chalcot, helping the library. How was that possible?
The applause died down as Mark stepped to the front. “Thanks for your kind words, Mrs.Bransworth. I’d just like to say something quickly, if that’s okay?”
The room hushed and waited for him to speak again. Mark took a moment to compose himself.
“As some of you may know, my father and I had been estranged for many years, which is something I’ll always regret.” Mark’s voice was quiet, and June strained to hear him. “When I learned about Stanley’s death last year, the person who wrote to me also included the log-in details for his e-mail account. I thought this was a bit odd, but when I logged into it, I discovered two hundred and eighteen messages, all addressed to me. None of them had ever been sent.”
“My god, all those hours Stanley spent at the computers...” someone said, but Marjorie shushed them.
“His e-mails were extraordinary: funny, honest, heartbreaking. In many of them he talked about his love of Chalcot Library and the battle to save it from closure. He wrote with such passion about this place and why it was important to him, and it brought back lots of fond memories. You see, even when things were really bad with my dad, he still used to take me to our local library. He loved to read me stories, Winnie-the-Pooh and Roald Dahl, and he’d do all the voices. I think they were our happiest times together.”
Mark hesitated, and June watched him fighting with his emotions.
“One thing that struck me about his e-mails was the way hewrote with such affection about one particular person, someone who’d always shown him kindness and compassion, and who’d been a true friend to him long before the library was threatened.”
Mark glanced down at his hands for a moment, anguish written across his face. When he looked up again, his eyes found June.
“June, I’ll never forgive myself for not making contact with my dad when he was alive, especially now I know the conditions he was living in. But it gives me huge comfort to know that in the last years of his life, you cared for him and showed him unconditional friendship. He loved you like a daughter.”
June felt tears spring to her eyes, but she didn’t try to wipe them away.
“Everything Stanley wrote about you reminded me that libraries aren’t made by books; they’re made by librarians. And so, whilst my father may not be here to see it, I want his legacy to be that there’ll also be a paid librarian here in Chalcot, someone to help people in the way June helped him.”
He stopped talking and the room erupted into thunderous applause. June joined in with them, smiling at Mark as she did, and so it took a moment for her to realize that the cheers and clapping were for her.
•••
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. June talked to Mark and there was wine and laughter as she caught up with the old patrons. She’d spent so long trying not to think about Chalcot Library and Stanley, so it was wonderful to share happy stories and memories without feeling that familiar stab of pain.
“Vera and I are running café here,” Leila said, handing June a slice of cake.
“All the money we raise goes toward the library costs,” Vera said. “I’ve never been so busy.” She turned to serve a customer, a smile on her face.
“I’m starting university in September,” Chantal told her. “Marjorie helped me with my UCAS form. I’m doing a degree in social work.”
“Oh, Chantal, I’m so pleased,” June said, giving her a hug.
“Come on, there’s a photographer from theGazettewho wants a group shot,” Mrs.B said, grabbing June on her way to the door.
Outside, the Friends of Chalcot Library gathered in front of the library, with a crowd of onlookers watching.
“Is that everyone?” The photographer had a camera up to his face.
“I still think we should have invited Rocky,” Vera said.
“Okay, everybody say cheese!” the photographer said.
