The Giver of Stars(112)
‘Leaving where?’
‘Here.’ She swallowed. ‘I have to go back to England.’
There was a heavy silence. Izzy’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘You can’t leave!’
‘Well, I can’t stay, unless I go back to Bennett. Van Cleve will come after me once he’s got Margery safely locked up.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Beth.
There was a lengthy silence. Alice tried to ignore the looks passing between the other women.
‘Is Bennett so bad?’ said Izzy. ‘I mean, if you could persuade him to move out from his daddy’s shadow, maybe you two would have a chance. Then you could stay.’
How could she explain now how impossible it would be to return to Bennett, feeling as she did about Fred? She would rather be a million miles from Fred than have to walk past him every day and know she had to go back to another man. Fred had barely touched her yet she felt they understood each other better than she and Bennett ever had.
‘I can’t. And you know Van Cleve won’t rest until he’s got rid of the Packhorse Library, too. Which will put us all out of a job. Fred saw him with the sheriff and Kathleen saw him twice last week with the governor. He’s working away to undermine us.’
‘But if we don’t have Margery and we don’t have you …’ Izzy’s voice trailed away.
‘Does Fred know?’ said Sophia.
Alice nodded.
Sophia’s eyes held hers, as if confirming something.
‘When are you going?’ said Izzy.
‘Soon as the trial is done.’ Fred had barely spoken the whole drive home. She had wanted to reach out, to touch his hand and tell him she was sorry, that this was so far from what she wanted, but she was so frozen with grief at her possession of the paper ticket that she couldn’t move.
Izzy rubbed at her eyes and sniffed. ‘Feels like everything’s falling apart. Everything we worked for. Our friendship. This place. Everything is just falling apart.’
Normally when one of the women expressed such dramatic sentiments the others would leap on her, telling her to stop being ridiculous, that she was crazy, that she simply needed a good night’s sleep, or some food, or to get a hold of herself; it was her monthlies talking. It was a measure of how low they all felt that this time nobody said a word.
Sophia broke the silence. She took an audible breath and placed both hands palm down on the table. ‘Well, for now we keep going. Beth, I don’t believe you’ve entered your books from this afternoon. If you’d be kind enough to bring them over here, I’ll do them for you. And, Alice, if you can give me the exact day you’re planning on leaving, I’ll adjust the payroll.’
Overnight two trailer homes arrived on the road by the courthouse. Extra state policemen were visible around town, and a crowd began to build outside the jailhouse by teatime on Monday, fuelled by a newspaper report in the Lexington Courier headlined:
MOONSHINER’S DAUGHTER KILLED MAN WITH LIBRARY BOOK IN BLOOD FEUD.
‘This is trash,’ Kathleen said, when Mrs Beidecker handed her a copy at the school. But that didn’t stop the people gathering, a few starting to catcall out back so that the sound would reach through the open window of Margery’s cell. Deputy Dulles came out twice, his palms up, trying to calm them, but a tall moustachioed man in an ill-fitting suit, whom nobody had seen before and claimed to be Clem McCullough’s cousin, said they were just exercising their God-given right to free speech. And if he wanted to talk about what a murdering bitch that O’Hare girl was then it was nobody else’s damn business. They jostled each other, fuelling their bold claims with alcohol, and by dusk the yard outside the jailhouse was thick with people, some drunk, some shouting insults at Margery, others yelling back at them that they were not from round here and why didn’t they keep their troublemaking ways to themselves? The older ladies of the town withdrew behind their doors, muttering, and some of the younger men, emboldened by the chaos, started a bonfire by the garage. It felt, briefly, as if the orderly little town had become a place where almost anything could happen. And none of it good.
Word got to the librarians as they returned from their routes, and each put away her horse and sat in silence with the door open for a while, listening to the distant sounds of protest.
Murdering bitch!
You gonna get yours, you whore!
Now, now, gentlemen. There are ladies in this crowd. Let’s keep things reasonable.
‘I swear I’m glad Sven isn’t here to see it,’ said Beth. ‘You know he wouldn’t stand to hear Marge talked about that way.’
‘I can’t bear it,’ said Izzy, who was watching through the door. ‘Imagine how she must be feeling having to listen to all that.’
‘She’ll be so sad without the baby too.’
It was all Alice could think about. To be the recipient of such hate, without the prospect of a word of comfort from those who loved you. The way Margery had isolated herself made Alice want to weep. It was like an animal that deliberately takes itself off somewhere solitary before it dies.
‘Lord help our girl,’ Sophia said quietly.
And then Mrs Brady walked through the door, glancing behind her, her cheeks ruddy and her hair electric with fury. ‘I swear I thought this town knew better. I am ashamed of my neighbours, I really am. I can only imagine what Mrs Nofcier would say if she happened to catch wind of this.’