Still Me (Me Before You #3) - Jojo Moyes Page 0,85

those people will have nowhere to go. And you can bet the city councillors will be the first people complaining about the young folk hanging around on street corners. You know it.’ She smiled at me as if I did.

Ahead, Meena was holding up her sign again. Ashok, beside her, stooped to greet a friend’s small boy, picking him up and lifting him above the crowd so that he could see better. He looked completely different in this crowd without his doorman outfit. For all we talked, I had only really seen him through the prism of his uniform. I hadn’t wondered about his life beyond the lobby desk, how he supported his family or how long he travelled to work or what he was paid. I surveyed the crowd, which had grown a little quieter once the camera crew departed, and felt oddly ashamed at how little I had really explored New York. This was as much the city as the glossy towers of Midtown.

We kept up our chant for another hour. Cars and trucks beeped in support as they passed and we would cheer in return. Two librarians came out and offered trays of hot drinks to as many as they could. I didn’t take one. By then I had noticed the ripped seams on the old lady’s coat, the threadbare, well-worn quality of the clothes around me. An Indian woman and her son walked across the road with large foil trays of hot pakoras and we dived on them, thanking her profusely. ‘You are doing important work,’ she said. ‘We thank you.’ My pakora was full of peas and potato, spicy enough to make me gasp and absolutely delicious. ‘They bring those out to us every week, God bless them,’ said the old lady, brushing pastry crumbs from her scarf.

A squad car crawled by two, three times, the officer’s face blank as he scanned the crowd. ‘Help us save our library, sir!’ Meena yelled at him. He turned his face away but his colleague smiled.

At one point Meena and I went inside to use the loos and I got a chance to see what I was apparently fighting for. The building was old, with high ceilings, visible pipework and a hushed air; the walls were covered with posters offering adult education, meditation sessions, help with CVs and payment of six dollars per hour for mentoring classes. But it was full of people, the children’s area thick with young families, the computer section humming with adults clicking carefully on keyboards, not yet confident in what they were doing. A handful of teenagers sat chatting quietly in a corner, some reading books, several wearing earphones. I was surprised to see two security guards standing by the librarians’ desk.

‘Yeah. We get a few fights. It’s free to anyone, you know?’ whispered Meena. ‘Drugs usually. You’re always gonna get some trouble.’ We passed an old woman as we headed back down the stairs. Her hat was filthy, her blue nylon coat creased and street-worn, with rips in the shoulders, like epaulettes. I found myself staring after her as she levered her way up, step by step, her battered slippers barely staying on her feet, clutching a bag from which one solitary paperback poked out.

We stayed outside for another hour – long enough for a reporter and another news crew to stop by, asking questions, promising they would do their best to get the story to run. And then, at one, the crowd started to disperse. Meena, Ashok and I headed back to the subway, the two of them chatting animatedly about whom they had spoken to and the protests planned for the following week.

‘What will you do if it does close?’ I asked them, when we were on the train.

‘Honestly?’ said Meena, pushing her bandanna back on her hair. ‘No idea. But they’ll probably close it in the end. There’s another, better-equipped, building two miles away and they’ll say we can take our children there. Because obviously everyone round here has a car. And it’s good for the old people to walk two miles in the ninety-degree heat.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘But we keep fighting till then, right?’

‘You gotta have your places for community.’ Ashok raised a hand emphatically, slicing the air. ‘You gotta have places where people can meet and talk and exchange ideas and it not just be about money, you know? Books are what teach you about life. Books teach you empathy. But you can’t buy books