‘While I appreciate that your lessons require some verbal communication, may I remind you that this is a library, not a gossip club. If your clients can’t adhere to appropriate standards of behaviour, you will have to find an alternative venue.’

‘Excuse me?’ I sat up, meeting her steely gaze with my own. ‘What standards of behaviour are those?’

Her eyes flickered to the side before coming to rest about three inches to the right of my face. ‘Raised voices. Outlandish laughter.’ She pursed her lips in disgust. ‘Attention-seeking behaviour.’

‘You’re objecting to my client laughing?’

‘Well…’ Irene flicked her hand. ‘She was… distracting other library users.’

My jaw clenched. A handful of people had come into the library that morning. Most of them had smiled and said hello. One elderly couple had asked what we were studying, and we’d had a brief conversation about adult education classes. Another man had openly listened as Yasmin recounted how she taught Mr Howard’s bichon frise to put his toys away, her smile lighting up the dingy atmosphere.

Yasmin and I had laughed maybe four times. On two occasions, other people had joined in. For a moment there, the library had been in severe danger of transforming into a community space where people connected with one another.

‘Did any of these users complain?’ I asked.

‘Not in so many words.’

‘Because I heard some comment on how lovely it was to see the library being used in such a positive way,’ I added. ‘Someone suggested we hold more classes in here. Perhaps restart the creative writing and the book groups. I’m sure I heard them making that suggestion to you.’

Irene blinked, her scowl briefly giving way to a flash of panic before she regained control of her features. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she spluttered. ‘This isn’t a community centre. We have strict policies about what goes on here. I’ve run this library for twenty-seven years. Who do you think you are, telling me how to do my job! It’s bad enough installing all this new-fangled technology. Self-service machines and drink dispensers! Expecting me to hold toddler story-time and school holiday nonsense, like I’m a children’s nanny, rather than a highly qualified librarian. If people like you had their way, we’d do away with the books altogether!’

And then I saw, beneath the bitterness and the bluster, the faint glimpse of a woman who had given her life to this library, and was feeling it pulled out from under her one inch at a time. Her animosity wasn’t because she thought I lowered the tone – quite the opposite: she saw me as part of the threat.

‘Would you like to join me for a coffee before I head off?’ I asked, resolving to convince her that I was not interested in being her enemy.