When everyone seemed settled, Maggie and the library supporters convened at the cakes. ‘No sign of the reporter,’ said Maggie running her bottom lip through her teeth. She’d been counting on some press coverage. ‘And I don’t know if the council representative is here or not.’ They all scanned the room.

‘What does a council representative look like?’ asked Tom.

‘Pompous, self-important, hates books,’ suggested Maggie, still viewing the crowd.

Farah leaned in. ‘Him,’ she said, pointing at a balding gentleman at the back. He had a book open at the middle and was watching the people around him. ‘There’s no way he’s read that much already.’

‘Good spot,’ said Maggie and she zoomed in on the man like a paparazzi lens on a celebrity.

‘Uh-oh,’ said Tom, watching her go.

‘Good evening. Are you from the council?’ asked Maggie. The man blinked a few times and then checked his watch. ‘You are from the council aren’t you?’

‘Well. I’m not here officially.’

Maggie narrowed her eyes. ‘Why not? Is this not worthy of an official council visit?’ She was calm but forceful.

‘I don’t have the authority to discuss this with you. Maybe I should go.’ He put the book down and looked about as if assessing his best escape route.

‘No, you need to stay. Would you like some cake?’ Maggie pointed to the refreshments.

‘No. I don’t—’

‘Farah. Could you bring this gentleman a coffee?’

‘I really should be—’

‘Or tea?’ Maggie fixed him with a steely stare.

‘Coffee,’ he said, looking like he’d been snared.

‘And what cake would you like? We have Victoria sponge, coffee and walnut or chocolate fudge left.’

He looked under duress. ‘Victoria sponge.’

Maggie looked over her shoulder at Farah and she signalled that she’d got the order with a thumbs up.