“Hang on, are you trying to threaten me?” Hanna glanced over her shoulder to check that the kitchen door was shut. Whatever response Tim Slattery might make to her question, this was a conversation that she didn’t want overheard. Tim leaned back against the work surface and ran a well-kept hand through his stiff brush of hair.
“Come now, Hanna, you know that’s ridiculous.”
“It is. Totally ridiculous. It’s also the implication of what you just said.”
“I simply said that you’d be wise to be careful.”
Hanna drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Right, let’s get one thing clear. Are you suggesting that I have no authority to organize an event in my own library?”
“It’s not as if you’d organized a book club or a lecture. This was a protest meeting.”
“Nonsense!” Hanna looked at him sharply. “Who says so?”
“You must understand that we can’t have staff standing up in a branch of the County Library accusing hardworking county councillors of taking bribes.”
“Look, I organized and attended that event. It was chaired by Conor, who works directly for me. The content was discussed and agreed between us in advance and everything that he and I said was perfectly appropriate. There was a certain amount of comment from a single individual on the floor, to which Conor responded promptly, politely, and exactly as he should. Had he done otherwise or appeared to be out of his depth I would have intervened. But he didn’t. So I didn’t.”
Tim shrugged. “Be that as it may . . .”
Hanna’s eyes narrowed. “But that’s not the point, is it? The point is that you’ve just walked into my library and told me to watch my step.”
“Hardly that.”
“Precisely that. In so many words. And I want an explanation.”
But she didn’t need one. It was evident that Liam Ryan must have gossiped to other council employees about the lad who had harped on about brown envelopes and that an impression had been transmitted to Carrick that she’d organized some kind of protest meeting. Which was ironic given that the occasion had only arisen because poor Conor, who was usually so responsible, had gone out and got drunk.
This was not ground on which Hanna would have chosen to do battle, and, to her horror, tears formed in her eyes. How dare Tim believe such nonsense? And, even if he did believe it, how could he fail to stand up for her, as a colleague and a friend? She had stood by Conor even though the event had been idiotic. And she had no intention of doing otherwise now.
As she groped for words, Tim raised his eyebrows. Surely, he said, he didn’t have to spell things out? The council’s proposed investment plan involved a complete restructuring of the county’s library facilities. In the future the entire collection would be housed in the new complex in Carrick. And inevitably, with a single premises and increased technology, there would need to be redundancies. Shrugging, he extended his hands like some cheap crook in a Dashiell Hammett novel. What he meant, he said, was that her wisest course would be to discourage silly gossip and support the council’s plan.
Hanna stared at him in blank disbelief. Only a few weeks ago he had assured her that Lissbeg Library wouldn’t be closed. He must remember that as well as she did. He had actually used the expression “over my dead body.” And she, like a fool, had apologized for her fears.
A thousand questions and recriminations whirled through her mind. But self-preservation kept her silent; she needed to think, not to rail at him. If the council’s proposal involved restructuring the library system, then Tim must have been involved in the planning of it. And part of the plan was to close her library down. So he’d lied to her for fear that she’d resist it. And now, apparently, he’d assumed she’d found out and had started some kind of protest. Whereas, actually, she’d been far too stupid to doubt his word.
Wrenching her mind away from this new sense of humiliation, she realized that Tim had poured them each a mug of coffee. And he was asking a question. How were things going with her computer? Was she still finding the library’s IT system a bit too complex to understand? This was a ploy so crude that Hanna could hardly control herself. The library appointments in the new complex would, of course, be down to Tim and anyone with a reputation for Luddism would be unlikely even to rate an interview. So no one would be surprised if poor Luddite Hanna didn’t appear on the list. For a moment she considered chucking her mug of coffee at him. But common sense told her that to lose her temper would be to play into his hands; poor old Miss Casey, hardworking enough in her way, but at her time of life women often found things difficult. They got volatile. Over-excitable. When it came to matters of judgment, hormones could intervene. She’d have no grounds for a discrimination case because nothing would be said in public. But the slander would circulate and be accepted all the same.
Forcing herself to relax, she managed to eyeball him. It wasn’t going to be enough to keep calm; she needed to hit him back.
“Oh come on, Tim, there’s nothing complex about the computer system. The hard part is finding and keeping competent tech support. Not easy for someone with your narrow range of connections, but I’m sure you do your best.”
Her voice when she spoke was as cool as she could have hoped and she was rewarded by a flicker of fear in Tim’s eyes. But the effect was short-lived. The bottom line was that her library was threatened with closure and her future prospects were bleak. If the council’s plan went through she’d be on the scrap heap, with no income, no future, an uninhabitable house, and an unpaid loan. Maybe, she told herself, the plan would be voted down. But maybe it wouldn’t. Why should she assume that Finfarran’s county councillors were more honest than its county librarian?
When Tim left there was an hour before closing time. Hanna returned to her desk. At the far end of the room Oliver the dog man was still trawling bookshelves. Conor finished tidying up in Children’s Corner and asked Hanna what to do next. Afraid that her face would reveal her state of mind, Hanna kept her head down and told him to clear up the kitchen.
“Okay.” Conor turned to go and then glanced back at her. “What did Tim Slattery have to say?”
“Nothing that concerns you. Can you just get on, please?”
She watched him disappear down the room obediently. Then she returned to the circular litany of outrage that had possessed her since Tim had gone. How could he have turned out to be so two-faced? How could her own judgment have been so flawed? How dare he walk in and threaten her like some small-time bully? And—worse than all the rest—how many people had known that her job was in danger while she had been blissfully unaware? Suddenly, her fists clenched and her eyes widened. So that was why Joe Furlong had avoided her in the council parking lot in Carrick. He must have known, and known that she didn’t know and he couldn’t look her in the face.
When Conor finished in the kitchen she told him to go home. “There’s not much to do. And anyway you’ve been in and out a lot lately when it hasn’t been your day.”
“There’s plenty to do really.” Conor looked worried. “You’re not . . . you’re not going to cut my hours, are you?”
This was an aspect of the situation that hadn’t occurred to Hanna. It wasn’t just her job that was threatened. The McCarthys depended on Lissbeg Library as well. Although Conor had never said so, she knew that his part-time job had been factored into his family’s carefully balanced budget, and losing it would add to the stress at home. Now she made herself smile at him, determined to say nothing while she was still in a state of shock.
“Of course not. I’m telling you to knock off early and get home before the rush hour. So go on before I change my mind.”
“Thanks, Miss Casey.” Conor hovered for a moment, deciding whether or not to say more. Then, going scarlet, he made up his mind. “It’s not just the money. The whole books thing is really a big deal for me. I love Lissbeg Library. And learning from you is just great.”
Going home on the Vespa he wondered if that had been a bit mawkish. But he’d been wanting to say it for ages, and it was true.