“That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Marjorie said. “Now, just remember, you’re not going there to have fun. You have a job to do.”
•••
At four o’clock, Chantal’s mum, Michelle, came into the library. June wanted to ask her about Chantal, who had been ignoring herever since she’d refused to join FOCL, but Michelle was engrossed in swearing at the computer.
“Those council bastards,” she said, hitting the keyboard as June approached. “They send me a text telling me a new property has come up, so I drop everything and race here. But by the time I’ve got onto their website, the sodding house has gone.”
“Not again, Michelle. I’m so sorry.”
“And what am I supposed to do if this place closes down? Do the council expect us all to have computers at home?”
“I was wondering, how’s Chantal?”
“God knows. She’s in a right grump, has been for ages. I’ve no idea what’s got into her.”
June felt a pang of guilt; she was pretty sure she knew what was wrong with Chantal, and part of it was June’s fault.
“Has she told you she wants to drop out of school?” Michelle asked.
“What? That’s awful. What about going to university?”
“Says she doesn’t want to. She’s always been a right little geek, but now she says she wants to get a job instead.”
“Oh no. Would you ask her to come in here and I can have a chat with her?”
“I’ll try, but I’m not sure it’ll do any good. She’s going to that protest thing on Saturday—you could talk to her there.”
“I’m afraid I’m at a hen do on Saturday.” It was the truth, but June still felt terrible.
Michelle logged off the computer and got up to leave. “Was that one of those management consultants I saw here first thing this morning?”
“What do you mean?” June said.
“With Marjorie. I was dropping the twins at nursery, so it was before eight.”
“What did they look like?”
“She was a skinny woman in fancy clothes. Not from round here, I’d say.”
June remembered the Mrs.Coulter look-alike she’d seen here weeks ago with Marjorie. “Did she have long dark hair?”
“Yeah. She looked a bit snooty.”
“Damn!” June said, and then realized she was talking to a patron. “Sorry.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, I hope.”
Marjorie was at the other side of the room, helping Mahmoud look something up in the reference section. June watched her patiently explaining something to the boy. What was she up to? If Mrs.Coulter was a management consultant, then why was Marjorie trying to keep her visits secret from June and everyone else? There was something suspicious going on here—June was sure of it.
She went into the toilet, locking the door behind her, and pulled out her mobile. Opening Twitter, she typed a private message to FOCL from Matilda.
Marjorie Spencer has been secretly showing people around the library. I saw her with a woman here weeks ago and I think the same woman was back here this morning before the library opened. Possibly a management consultant?
There was a rattle as someone tried to open the door, so June pressed send. Seconds later she heard a beep outside. June pulled the door open to see Mrs.B staring at her phone screen.
“Fuck,” Mrs.B said, and she turned and walked back across the library.
