‘My neighbour Carole Seddon talked to her during the week.’
‘Yes, I know Carole. Comes when she’s got her granddaughter with her. As do a lot of the ladies of Fethering. Sadly, they don’t come that much on their own.’
‘No.’ Given the opening, Jude wanted to put the next bit tactfully. ‘From what Carole said, Vix didn’t seem to be that dedicated to her job.’
Fortunately, the librarian was more than ready to voice criticism of her junior. ‘That’s an understatement. When I started in the library service, the staff were a mixed bunch, like in any big organization, but at least they did like books, and knew about books. Many of us had relevant degrees. But with government cutbacks, local authorities can’t afford to pay people with top librarian’s qualifications. So they go for people with minimal training, call them library assistants, pay them very little, and hope they learn on the job. Which in some cases works very well – I’ve had colleagues with very bright and motivated library assistants, worked with a good few myself – but when someone like Vix Winter slips under the wire … well, it’s very difficult to get rid of them.
‘She’s the original of what my father used to call “a jobsworth”. For them, everything’s more than their “job’s worth”. Didn’t think there would be any in her generation, but Vix certainly qualifies. Kind of employee who’s always talking about her “job description”, and, whenever she’s asked to do anything extra, saying she’ll have to speak to her “line manager”. It’s a right pain. So, I mean, getting her to stay late for an event like Burton St Clair’s talk on Tuesday – you’d think I’d asked her to assist in a major crime. In a place like a library, you must have staff who’re prepared to go the extra mile, to help out occasionally without making a fuss. Well, I’m afraid you don’t get that kind of co-operation from Miss Vix Winter.
‘Which doesn’t do wonders for the kind of service we can provide, and which is why I end up doing jobs that you’d have thought would be done by a junior.’
‘You sound rather pessimistic about the future of libraries.’
‘Difficult not to be. Particularly in a tiny branch like this. Fewer borrowings, fewer people using the facilities, already cutting qualified staff and opening hours. If this was a commercial business, it would have closed down years ago.’
‘So why hasn’t it closed down?’
Di shrugged at the hopelessness of the situation. ‘Because people in this country like the idea of libraries. Part of the traditional fabric of our society – books, information, education readily available, free for everyone. Whenever they do market research on this kind of thing, it turns out that people love their libraries. God, if half the people who turn out for demonstrations against the closure of libraries actually went into their local branches a couple of times a week, the whole problem would be solved!
‘But it’s not just that. The online world has changed everything, and libraries have been slow to catch up. Yes, the Victorian, the Edwardian library was a fine institution. But whether that model works so well in the days of Google and Wikipedia is another matter. The trouble is, there are votes in having libraries. Politicians at the national and local level hate the idea of being seen to close them down. So they keep the places going, and gradually starve them of resources. And some finally close, and some stagger on as “community libraries”, staffed by volunteers, and …’ Her words trickled away to silence.
‘Oh dear, I’ve really depressed myself now.’ Di Thompson slammed a couple of books into their slots with excessive vigour. ‘Sorry … Jude, was it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, Jude, I’m afraid you got me on my hobby-horse.’
‘Don’t apologize. I found it very interesting.’
‘But it wasn’t what you came in here to talk about?’
‘No, it wasn’t, actually.’
‘You came in to talk about what happened to Burton St Clair here last Tuesday.’ Responding to the puzzlement in Jude’s face, Di said, ‘That’s still all anyone wants to talk about.’
‘Well, it might be related to that.’
‘Go on then.’ The librarian looked at her watch. ‘I can give you about five minutes. Then there’s other stuff I’ve got to do before I open up.’
‘Right, thanks. It’s just … some of the people I was chatting to after the Burton St Clair talk mentioned a Creative Writers’ Group you used to run here.’
‘Oh yes. Well, it wasn’t my plan to run it. I thought, when I had the idea, after a time it would become self-perpetuating, but it didn’t work out that way. Another initiative that failed, another attempt to get the library used more, to get more people coming in and out.’
‘How was it run?’
‘I organized speakers, you know, to come to the first few sessions, to get things rolling, with the idea that the participants would then run it themselves. But nobody kind of stepped up to the plate, and I was doing so much other stuff I couldn’t spare the time. Whole thing folded up within six months.’
‘I heard about it from Oliver Parsons.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘He said Steve Chasen was a member too.’
Di nodded. ‘Don’t think they get on particularly well, those two.’
‘The speakers you say you organized, who were they?’
‘Local writers, people from other writers’ groups, teachers from the sixth-form colleges and the university – anyone I could rope in, really.’
‘Did Burton St Clair ever come to speak to them?’
‘Good heavens, no. Last Tuesday was the first time he’d ever been to Fethering, so far as I know.’
‘How did you get in touch with him? Had you got mutual friends?’
‘It was through the publicity department of his publisher.’
‘Ah.’ Jude had been a little optimistic to think that line of questioning would lead anywhere. ‘Going off at a tangent, have you heard of an organization called the Wordway Trust?’
‘Yes. Set-up that runs residential writing courses?’
‘That’s it.’
‘We’ve got some literature about them.’ The librarian gestured vaguely towards a flyer-covered table by the front doors. ‘Supposed to be quite good, I think. Why, are you contemplating taking up writing?’
‘No way. I don’t have that kind of creativity in me. Hated writing essays at school. Reason I was asking about them is that I heard Burton St Clair and Steve Chasen were once on the same Wordway Trust course.’
‘I didn’t know that, but it sounds quite possible. Why, are you thinking that Burton might have done something then to antagonize Steve sufficiently for him to exact his revenge many years later?’
The irony in her voice now verged on sarcasm, so Jude said, ‘No, nothing like that. Well, look, I can’t thank you enough, Di, for your time, and for being so helpful. I’ll pick up one of the flyers for the Wordway Trust; might be some contact numbers I could follow up on there.’
‘Good morning!’
Both women looked up at the interruption. Di Thompson showed surprise to see Eveline Ollerenshaw, dressed in a mangy mink coat that predated anti-fur campaigns.
‘I didn’t think you were coming in today, Evvie,’ said the librarian. ‘I thought we’d agreed that from now on you were only going to do Wednesdays and Fridays.’
‘Yes, but I know how busy you get. And I’m just next door. I can see when the car park fills up and there are lots of customers.’
‘There are no customers at this time in the morning,’ Di protested.
‘No, but you know what I mean. It’s no trouble for me to pop in and lend a hand. Look, right now here’s you putting back the returned books. Someone in your position shouldn’t have to do that, Di. Particularly when I’m more than happy to do it.’