June was so surprised that she choked on her drink.
“Are you all right?”
“Sorry,” she said through the coughing.
Alex waited for her to finish. “This might sound strange, but I always had this image of your life after school, where you’d go to uni and have all these smart, bookish friends, and you’d all have deep, intellectual conversations.” His face had gone quite pink. “Sorry, that sounds absurd. Feel free to laugh at me.”
But June didn’t laugh; instead, she felt her stomach fall. What Alex had described was exactly what she used to dream of herself: going to university and finally making close friends, staying up all night talking about books and supporting one another’s writing. She went to take another drink and realized her glass was empty.
“Do you want another pint?” she said, standing up and grabbing his glass before he could answer.
June made her way toward the bar. How had Alex so accurately guessed her eighteen-year-old dream? They’d hardly known each other at school; she was amazed he’d even noticed her, let alone understood her so well. She thought back for a moment to thatfantasy, the friends and the life she’d imagined for herself, and then pushed it out of her mind.
As she reached the bar, June heard a sudden explosion of laughter behind her, and she glanced round to see where it was coming from. Shit. Brian Spencer, Gayle’s dad, was sitting at a table next to the bar with two younger men. Had he heard her just lie about still being friends with his daughter? Brian’s mouth was open as he laughed, and June could see the half-chewed food inside. She grimaced and turned away so he wouldn’t see her. As she waited to be served, she could hear Brian’s voice, full of privilege and self-importance.
“What you have to understand, boys, is the value of a bit of wheel grease.”
“And, in this particular instance, you think that the wheels could be greased?” one of the men said.
“Of course. Although I should warn you, it won’t be cheap.”
“What can I get you, love?” The barmaid was staring at June impatiently.
“A pint of lager and a white wine, please.”
“Of course, I can’t make any promises.” Brian’s voice floated back over. “But I play golf with a couple of the councillors and they trust me. I’m sure they could be incentivized to see the benefits of this idea.”
“I told you, Phil—Brian here could be a good investment.” This guy sounded younger and posher. “I know this better than most.”
They laughed at this, the deep guffawing laugh that men only seemed to do around other men.
June paid for the drinks and headed back toward the table, careful to keep her face away from Brian. As she walked past, she caughta glimpse of one of the men sitting with him, his cheeks flushed with alcohol, his hair so blond he looked like Draco Malfoy.
“And what about Marjorie? Won’t she mind?”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” Brian said. “I can handle her.”
Back at the table, June found Alex looking embarrassed. “Sorry. You must think I’m a complete weirdo for saying all that,” he said.
“Not at all. I’d have loved to have had that life you described, but it just... didn’t quite work out that way.”
“Why not, if you don’t mind me asking?”
June had managed to spill some wine on the table, and she traced a pattern in it with her finger. “I always wanted to go to Cambridge to study English, but Mum got diagnosed with cancer while we were in the sixth form. She still wanted me to go, so I applied and got offered a place, but they let me defer it so I could look after her. And then she died, two years later.”
“Oh, June, I’m so sorry.”
“I know I could have taken up my place after that; it’s what Mum would have wanted. But once she was gone, the idea of leaving home felt too... terrifying.”
“And you’re not tempted to go to university now? There are some great courses for mature students.”
June shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s for me. Besides, I love my life here in Chalcot.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re happy here. And you’re so lucky to have a job that you love.”
“I honestly can’t imagine working anywhere else, which is why all this council stuff is so terrifying.”
“How’s the campaign going?”
