She’d never understood why the place wasn’t always packed with people, but she now realized how easy it was to neglect even the most valuable treasures. Libraries, like the one back home in Battersea that had taken her on so many magical journeys, were constantly under threat of closure. Every few months, a campaign would be organized to resist the next round of cuts, and some appendage – early years’ groups, mobile lending, adult classes – would have to be sacrificed to appease the gods of efficiency and progress. Except it wasn’t progress to take knowledge and experiences from the poorest, and even though she was no longer a regular, Harri reached into her pocket whenever she saw a library fundraiser. She wanted future generations to have the same chances she’d had.

Narrowing and removing opportunity didn’t seem sensible, but there was much about early twenty-first-century life that didn’t feel right to Harri. She stood at the top of a set of stone steps, leaned against the handrail and watched a few early morning shoppers shuffle along the street towards the town centre. They moved against a backdrop of empty shops, boarded up and advertised for rent. The Internet was chewing the heart out of communities all over the world, but few people seemed to mind much.

‘Eager,’ a voice said, and Harri turned to see a tattooed woman in her early thirties. She had bright pink hair, piercings, a vintage AC/DC top and torn jeans. Her mouth was curled in a half-smile as though turned by perpetual thoughts of mischief. ‘Someone needs their word fix.’

Harri smiled, and the woman produced a set of keys and unlocked the front door.

‘We don’t officially open for another fifteen, but you don’t look like a book snatcher to me. You can wait inside,’ the woman said. ‘My name’s Edie. Come on in.’

Harri followed Edie into the building and was immediately catapulted back to childhood by the dry scent of old books, still air, and the sight of shelf after shelf packed with knowledge and adventure. Leek library was a grand listed structure with lead-lined windows, a hall, and an imposing tower. It was a bridge to a different time, when Victorians had measured success by the social hubs they created: libraries, schools, and parks. Harri hovered near the door and took it all in, while Edie stepped behind a large counter.

‘Don’t be shy,’ Edie said. ‘You don’t have to wait. I won’t tell anyone you were browsing before opening time.’

Harri smiled again. ‘I’m not here for a book. I was hoping you could tell me about the last person to borrow this one.’

She swung her backpack off her shoulder and reached inside for the book. Harri surmised that whoever wrote the message would have been the last person to have borrowed it before it had been released for sale. Anyone else who’d taken the book after the message had been written would have spotted it and alerted someone.