Yet where once a long weekend at home would have filled June with joy, now she felt strangely restless. She went back upstairs, had a shower, and got dressed. She ate breakfast, washed up the dishes, and dusted the living room. She readWolf Hallfor an hour but couldn’t concentrate, rereading the same page three times. What would Stanley be doing right now? Would he be alone in his trailer until the library opened again on Tuesday?
June walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer. A microwave lasagna sat on the shelf, waiting for her. She looked at the clock again. Seventy hours until the library opened. Seventy hours until she’d talk to another soul.
June grabbed her keys and headed out the front door. As she rang the bell next door, she realized she was still wearing her slippers.
“June, what a lovely surprise!” Linda opened the door wearing chandelier earrings, fuchsia lipstick, and an apron with the figure of a bikini-clad woman on it.
“Hi. I was wondering if you fancied a...” From inside the house, June heard voices. “Oh, I’m sorry to bother you, Linda. I didn’t realize you had guests.”
“It’s just the family here for lunch. Come and join us.”
“It’s not urgent. I’ll come round tomorrow,” she said, backing away. Linda often invited her to join their meals, but June had always declined, not wanting to intrude on family time.
She turned to walk back to her empty home and the microwave meal for one. Behind her, she heard a peel of laughter from inside Linda’s, and June was reminded of the meals she’d eaten in thelibrary over the past few days, sharing a table and food with others, chatting and laughing. Now that the occupation was over, she would be back to eating every meal alone.
June turned around. “Actually, Linda, I’d love to join, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it is, love.” Linda looked delighted. “I’m just carving the beef. Go on through to the living room and say hi to everyone.”
Although Linda’s house was the same layout as June’s, her living room couldn’t have been more different. A huge flat-screen TV filled the wall where June had her bookshelves, and there were no ornaments cluttering up the surfaces, just a few family photos and the odd scented candle. Linda’s daughter Clare was sitting on the pristine cream sofa with her husband, their three kids sprawled on the floor, playing a board game with Linda’s son, Martin. Her middle child, Elaine, was there with Jackson, who jumped up as June walked into the room.
“June, you’re here!”
“I’m sorry to disturb you all.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s lovely to see you,” Clare said, standing up and pulling June into a hug. She had a large bump under her T-shirt, which June assumed must be child number four on the way. “I hope you’re staying for lunch. Mum has done far too much, as usual. You’d think there were fifty of us from the amount she cooks.”
No sooner had she said it than Linda marched in through the door, declaring that lunch was served, and June was caught up in the bustle of the family charging toward the dining table. She found herself being steered into a seat between Linda and Jackson.
“Wine?” Linda said, pouring her a glass before she could respond.
In the middle of the table sat the biggest joint of roast beef Junehad ever seen, surrounded by dishes containing all the accompaniments. People started piling food onto their plates, all the while talking over one another. June’s plate was soon overflowing, and she allowed the clamor of conversation to wash over her as she ate. Across the table, Martin and the eldest grandson were swapping rude jokes, and June laughed as she heard snippets of the punch lines. To her right, Linda was having an intense conversation with Clare about the boys’ primary school.
“It’s shocking,” Clare was saying. “The school is so underfunded they can’t even afford stationery for all the kids. We got a letter at the end of last term asking parents to donate pens and notepads. Can you believe it?”
“Outrageous,” Linda said.
“All those MPs with their big salaries and private school educations, and yet state schools don’t have enough money to teach kids properly. Honestly, I’m so angry I’m thinking of writing a letter to my MP.”
“You should do a protest like June,” Jackson said. “She’s an expert now.”
“Really?” Clare turned to June, a look of surprise on her face.
“Well, I’m not exactly an expert,” June said.
“Oh yes, she organized an occupation of our library because the council wants to close it,” Linda said. “They got in the papers and on the TV. Chalcot Library is famous.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” said Martin, who had stopped telling jokes to listen. “What was the occupation like? Did you sleep there?”
“Yes, for three nights. The council evicted us yesterday.”
“Good on you, girl,” Clare said. “That takes proper guts.”
June smiled at the compliment.
“What will happen now?” asked Martin. “Will you carry on protesting?”
“Of course—we have to. The council is doing a consultation, which ends in four weeks’ time. We need to make sure the library is as busy as possible so our visitor numbers are high. And we need to keep campaigning so we don’t let the pressure off the council.”
