‘So … let me get this straight. You haven’t …’
‘I don’t know! Because I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like!’ She shook her head, then covered her face with her hands, as if horrified that she was even saying the words out loud.
Margery frowned at her boots. ‘Stay there,’ she said.
She disappeared into the cabin, where the singing had reached a new pitch. Alice listened anxiously, fearing the sudden cessation of voices that would suggest Margery had betrayed her. But instead the song lifted, and a little burst of applause met a musical flourish, and she heard Beth’s muffled whoop! Then the door opened, allowing the voices to swell briefly, and Margery tripped back down the steps holding a small blue book, which she handed to Alice. ‘Okay, so this doesn’t go in the ledger. This, we pass around to ladies who, perhaps, need a little help in some of the matters you’ve mentioned.’
Alice stared at the leather-bound book.
‘It’s just facts. I’ve promised it to a woman over at Miller’s Creek on my Monday route, but you can take a look over the weekend and see if there’s anything in there might help.’
Alice flicked through, startling at the words sex, naked, womb. She blushed. ‘This goes out with the library books?’
‘Let’s just say it’s an unofficial part of our service, given it has a bit of a chequered history through our courts. It doesn’t exist in the ledger, and it doesn’t sit out on the shelves. We just keep it between ourselves.’
‘Have you read it?’
‘Cover to cover and more than once. And I can tell you it has brought me a good deal of joy.’ She raised an eyebrow and smiled. ‘And not just me either.’
Alice blinked. She couldn’t imagine prising joy out of her current situation, no matter how hard she tried.
‘Good evening, ladies.’
The two women turned to see Fred Guisler walking down the path towards them, an oil lamp in his hand. ‘Sounds like quite a party.’
Alice hesitated, and thrust the book abruptly back at Margery. ‘I – I don’t think so.’
‘It’s just facts, Alice. Nothing more than that.’
Alice walked briskly past her back to the library. ‘I can manage this by myself. Thank you.’ She half ran back up the steps, the door slamming as she entered.
Fred stopped when he reached Margery. She noted the faint disappointment in his expression. ‘Something I said?’
‘Not even halfway close, Fred,’ she said, and placed a hand on his arm. ‘But why don’t you come on in and join us? Aside from a few extra bristles on that chin of yours, you’re pretty much an honorary librarian yourself.’
She would have laid down money, said Beth afterwards, that that was the finest librarians’ meeting that had ever taken place in Lee County. Izzy and Sophia had sung their way through every song they could recall, teaching each other the ones they didn’t know and making up a few on the spot, their voices wild and raucous as they grew in confidence, stamping and hollering, the girls clapping in time. Fred Guisler, who had indeed been happy to fetch his gramophone, had been persuaded to dance with each of them, his tall frame stooped to accommodate Izzy, disguising her limp with some well-timed swings so that she lost her awkwardness and laughed until tears leaked from her eyes. Alice smiled and tapped along but wouldn’t meet Margery’s eye, as if she were already mortified at having revealed so much, and Margery understood that she would simply have to say nothing and wait for the girl’s feelings of exposure and humiliation, however unwarranted, to die down. And amid all this Sophia would sing out and sway her hips, as if even her rigour and reserve could not hold out against the music.
Fred, who had declined all offers of moonshine, had driven them home in the dark, all crammed into the back seat of his truck, taking Sophia first under cover of the rest, and they had heard her singing still as she tapped her way down the path to the neat little house at Monarch Creek. They had dropped Izzy next, the motor-car’s tyres spinning in the huge driveway, and had seen Mrs Brady’s amazement at her daughter’s sweaty hair and grinning face. ‘I never had friends like you all before,’ Izzy had exclaimed, as they flew along the dark road, and they knew that it was only half moonshine talking. ‘Honestly, I never even thought I liked other girls till I became a librarian.’ She had hugged each of them with a child’s giddy enthusiasm.
Alice had sobered completely by the time they dropped her off, and said little. The two Van Cleve men were seated on the porch, despite the chill in the air and the late hour, and Margery detected a distinct reluctance in her step as Alice made her way slowly up the path towards them. Neither rose from his seat. Nobody smiled under the flickering porch light, or leaned forward to greet her.
Margery and Fred drove the rest of the way to her cabin in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
‘Tell Sven I said hey,’ he said, as she opened the gate and Bluey came bounding down the slope to meet her.
‘I will.’
‘He’s a good man.’
‘As are you. You need to find yourself someone else, Fred. It’s been long enough.’
He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.
‘You have a good rest of your evening,’ he said finally, and tipped his forehead, as if he were still wearing a hat, then turned the wheel and drove back down the road.
7
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, agents for land companies had swept through the [Kentucky] mountain region buying up mineral rights from residents, sometimes for as little as 50 cents per acre … the broad form deeds often signed over the rights to ‘dump, store and leave upon said land any and all muck, bone, shale, water or other refuse’, to use and pollute water courses in any manner, and to do anything ‘necessary and convenient’ to extract subsurface minerals.
Chad Montrie, ‘The Environment and Environmental Activism in Appalachia’
‘The prince told her she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and then he asked if she would marry him. And they all lived happily ever after.’ Mae Horner brought the two sides of the book briskly together with a satisfying slap.
‘That was really very good, Mae.’
‘I read it through four times yesterday after I collected the wood.’
‘Well, it shows. I do believe your reading is as good as any girl’s in this county.’
‘She’s smart all right.’
Alice looked up to where Jim Horner stood in the doorway. ‘Like her mama. Her mama could read since she was three years old. Grew up in a houseful of books over near Paintsville.’
‘I can read too,’ said Millie, who had been sitting by Alice’s feet.
‘I know you can, Millie,’ said Alice. ‘And your reading is very good too. Honestly, Mr Horner, I don’t think I’ve ever met two children take to it like yours have.’
He suppressed a smile. ‘Tell her what you did, Mae,’ he said.
The girl looked at him, just to check for her father’s approval.