“I have to admit, this one’s a bit tough, even for me.”
“It’s a good thing your mum also loved gin and a gossip; otherwise we’d never have been friends.” Linda took a swig from her mug. “I was thinking yesterday, do you remember your seventh birthday when we made you thatCharlie and the Chocolate Factorycake? We tried to make a great glass elevator, only we ended up getting a bit tipsy and the whole thing was skew-whiff like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.” She let out a loud guffaw, splashing hot tea on the sofa.
“You guys always made me the best birthday cakes,” June said, smiling. For her sixth birthday, her mum and Linda had baked hera giant spider and a luminous pink pig forCharlotte’s Web, and for her tenth birthday they’d tried to make Hermione and Hagrid out of sugar fondant, although it had ended up looking like something out of a horror movie.
“Why couldn’t you have just had a princess cake like other girls your age?” Linda said, rolling her eyes in mock irritation. “Anyway, how was your birthday? Did you see friends?”
“It was good, thanks.”
“Hmm...” Something in Linda’s tone suggested she knew all too well that the only friends June had spent it with were Elizabeth Bennet and Mr.Darcy. “Well, I got you a little something.”
Linda produced a rectangular parcel from her handbag, which June opened with some trepidation. Linda’s birthday presents always stuck to a certain theme: last year it had been a book calledHow to Make Anyone Fall in Love with Youand the year before that it wasHow to Stop Worrying and Start Living. Now June pulled the wrapping paper off to revealNow What? 90 Days to a New Life Direction.
“I saw it in the charity shop and thought of you,” Linda said with obvious pride.
“Great. Thank you.” June scanned the blurb on the back cover and tried to look enthusiastic.
“Do you like it? I just thought...” Linda paused, and June waited for the words she knew were coming. “It’s been almost eight years, love. And I know you still miss your mum—we both do—but maybe it’s time to shake things up a bit?”
June took a sip of tea. This was a conversation Linda brought up every year around her birthday, and June had learned from experience it was best to keep quiet until she got it out of her system.
“I mean, this is hardly what you dreamed of when you were younger, is it?” Linda continued. “Before your mum got sick, youhad big plans to go away to university and become a writer. Don’t you think it’s time you gave that a shot?”
“All kids have silly dreams, Linda. Besides, I love working in the library.”
“Well, okay, but you don’t have to do it in a tiny village like Chalcot. You always wanted to go to Cambridge; I’m sure they have libraries there too.”
“But why would I want to leave? This is my home.” June’s eyes scanned the living room: the bookcase full of her and her mum’s books, the mantelpiece covered in a menagerie of china ornaments they’d collected over the years, the walls busy with pictures and photos in mismatched frames. “And what about Alan Bennett? I’m not sure he’d cope moving somewhere new.”
At the sound of his name, Alan gave a halfhearted snarl.
“Look, I’m not putting pressure on you, love. If you’re happy here, that’s wonderful. I was just wondering if you might want a bit more from your life. That’s all.”
June put the book down and gave Linda her most reassuring smile. “I really appreciate your concern. But I love my life. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Well, in that case I assume you’ll be coming to the summer fete this afternoon?”
The smile disappeared from June’s face. “Ah, well, I’m a bit busy today.”
“Come on, you said yourself thatWar and Peaceis crap. And you used to love the fete.” Linda pulled herself up off the sofa and handed June her empty mug.
“Really, Linda, I’ve got lots on this—”
“I’ll knock for you later,” Linda said. “And I know what you’re like, young lady, so don’t you dare try and pretend you’re nothere.”
CHAPTER THREE
At three o’clock, June made her way up the hill toward the village green, trailing behind Linda. It was a boiling-hot day, the sun blazing down in a cloudless sky, and she could already feel herself getting red. June had never been a fan of the summer, and not just because of the sunburn that tormented her pale, freckly skin. Even at primary school, while most of her classmates had spent the long summer holidays playing down by the river, June had preferred to stay in the cool of the library with her best friend, Gayle, and a pile of good books.
Chalcot Summer Fete had been the one exception to that rule. The smell was the first thing that used to hit her as she walked up the hill: the intoxicating mix of fresh popcorn and candy floss that sent all the kids wild with excitement. As soon as she’d smelled it, June would grab Gayle’s hand and they’d run away from their mums toward the village green, squealing in delight as they spotted the bunting-topped stalls holding hook-a-duck and splat-the-rat, thesweet stand with its lurid array of Panda Pops bottles, and the competition tent where the local women’s institute would battle it out over vegetables and cakes.
“Right, I’ll meet you in the bar tent in half an hour,” Linda said once they’d arrived. “If you see my Jackson, tell him I’ve got some pocket money for him.”
Linda bounded off and June began to make her way through the fete, trying to stay calm as the crowd of people surged around her. Everything was exactly as she remembered it: children charging around playing tag between the stalls, the smell of burned sausages, and the buzz of the old PA system. There was the raffle, run as it always was by the local Brownie troop, and a table of novelty animals made by the Knit and Natter group, who met at the library every Wednesday. June turned her face away as she walked past them; she always found it uncomfortable talking to patrons outside the library, without her professional armor of a library-assistant badge and a date stamp. She reached the end of the aisle and turned right toward the competition tent, and then stopped in her tracks. Up ahead, next to the bouncy castle, was the white elephant stall.
June’s first instinct was to turn and run in the opposite direction, but the crowd behind her was too thick and she found herself being swept toward it. As she got nearer, she saw the table was covered with the usual strange assortment of goods: she spotted a garden gnome, a salad spinner, and a pile of Barbie dolls in various states of undress. All objects that were no longer needed by their owners and had been given away to be sold for charity.
“Do you know why the white elephant stall is my favorite?” June’s mum used to say. “It’s a place for the unloved, the outcasts that nobody wants. And I’ve always loved an underdog.”
