“That’s very kind, but there’s really no need. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”
“But one person isn’t really a protest, is it? If you want the council to listen, then you need more people.”
“I appreciate your offer, but what would Marjorie say if she found you here? You don’t want to risk your job for a silly old man like me.”
June felt as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice, peering down from a dizzying height, and for a moment she wonderedif she should take a step back and run to the safety of home before it was too late. She swallowed before she spoke again. “Stanley, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“The thing is... I’m Matilda.”
He stared at her in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve been sending you the Twitter messages. I’m the one who sent Rocky to the church hall and I put up all the posters round the village. I’ve been too scared to do anything publicly and risk losing my job, but I’m tired of living in fear.”
“Really? My goodness, I had no idea.” Stanley’s face broke into a grin. “But still, June, there’s a difference between helping anonymously and joining me here. Are you sure you really want to do this?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” June said, and as she said the words out loud, she realized that she truly meant them. “This library is the most important thing in my life, and I want to fight for it. Whatever the consequences.”
“Hurrah!” Stanley said, punching the air. “Then let the Chalcot Library occupationbegin.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
June locked the doors from the inside and turned around to see Stanley pacing the floor.
“Well, this is jolly exciting,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have any food in this place?”
She went into the office and found a packet of salt-and-vinegar crisps and some stale custard creams, then made two cups of tea and carried them back out. Stanley had set up a couple of lamps on the floor behind the desk and was sitting in a chair next to them. It looked like a strange kind of campfire.
“It’s best no one knows we’re here yet. That way we can prepare our surprise attack for tomorrow,” he said.
“You’ve read too many war novels, Stanley.” June laid their meager picnic out on the desk and sat down next to him. “What do you think will happen tomorrow?”
“Well, Marjorie will arrive, and we’ll bar her entry,” he said, helping himself to a biscuit. “I imagine she’ll call the council, whowill send someone down. And that’s when we give them our demands.”
“What demands?”
“That they promise to keep the library open and under council funding.”
“But they’ll never agree to that.”
“Then we stay here until they do.”
“And you won’t mention my theory about Cuppa Coffee?”
“No. We need evidence before we can go to the police with that.”
At the word “police,” June felt a shiver down her spine. “Do you think the police will come to arrest us?”
“We’re not technically breaking the law as long as we don’t damage anything. If they want to get us out, they will need to go through the courts to get an eviction notice, which could take weeks.”
June imagined still being here in several weeks’ time, alone with Stanley, eating books to fend off starvation. “You seem to know a lot about this. Have you occupied somewhere before?”
“A political protest? Goodness no.” He looked like he was about to say something else but helped himself to another custard cream.
“So, what do we do in the meantime?”
“Well, we could get to know each other a bit better.” Stanley leaned back in his chair, cradling the mug in his hands. “I’ve seen you in this library every day for years, but I know little of your life outside these four walls.”
