Chapter Five
Annabelle had been awake for much of the night.
Not by choice, obviously. It was just rather difficult to sleep through what sounded like a full rock concert happening in the cottage next door. Electric guitar, drums, or possibly furniture being rearranged with extreme prejudice, and the occasional crash that made her wince into her pillow.
Still, she thought as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror at half past six, applying concealer under her eyes with perhaps more enthusiasm than skill, it wasn't really a problem, was it?
Her new neighbor was a famous musician. A proper, Grammy-winning rockstar.
Of course she'd play music at unusual hours. That was what creative people did.
She was practically getting free concerts.
The fact that the concerts were at two in the morning and she had a classroom full of eight-year-olds to teach today was just… well, that was just part of living in a community, wasn't it? Being flexible. Being understanding.
By the time she arrived at Bankton Primary, fortified by two cups of tea and sheer optimism, Annabelle had almost convinced herself that she wasn't tired at all.
"Morning, Ms. Swift," Nina chirped as Annabelle walked into the classroom.
"Morning, Nina." Annabelle set down her bag and immediately tripped over a box of art supplies that definitely hadn't been there yesterday.
Nina rushed forward to help her up, nearly knocking over a pot of pencils in the process. "Oh no, I'm so sorry! I moved those earlier and forgot to… are you alright?"
"Absolutely fine," Annabelle said, brushing herself off and beaming. "No harm done."
Nina tilted her head, studying her. "You look a bit tired. Late night?"
"Oh, you know," Annabelle said vaguely. "Just my new neighbor settling in. Bit of music, nothing to worry about."
"Eek, Raven. I can’t believe it." Nina's eyes went wide. "Everyone's talking about it. Daisy told the whole village yesterday."
Of course she had. Annabelle made a mental note to have a word with Daisy about discretion. A gentle word. A very gentle, very kind word that would absolutely not change Daisy's behavior in the slightest.
"She's just a person, Nina," Annabelle said. "A person who happens to be settling into a new place. I'm sure once she gets comfortable, everything will be fine."
Before Nina could respond, Lily's voice echoed down the corridor. "Morning meeting in five minutes, everyone!"
The morning meeting was held in the small staff room that smelled perpetually of instant coffee and digestive biscuits. It was just the teaching staff. The children wouldn't arrive for another half hour.
Lily stood at the front, her expression carefully neutral in that way that made Annabelle's stomach drop. She recognized that expression.
"Right," Lily said once everyone had settled with their mugs of tea. "I'm not going to sugarcoat this. I had a meeting with the governors yesterday evening."
Annabelle's fingers tightened around her mug.
"Budget cuts from the council," Lily continued. "We need to make savings. Significant ones." She paused. "They're cutting Mrs. Patterson's librarian position at the end of term. The school library will close."
The room went silent.
Annabelle felt her heart crack straight down the middle.
The library. Their beautiful, cozy library with its beanbags and story corner and shelves full of adventures.
The place where Mrs. Patterson had read to generations of Bankton children, where shy readers found their confidence, where Jamie Long sometimes hid during lunch break with his favorite books about dinosaurs.
Gone.
"Unless," Annabelle heard herself say, her hand shooting up before she'd quite thought it through, "unless we raise the money ourselves."
There was silence.
Everyone turned to look at her.
"A fundraiser," she continued, the words tumbling out in a rush. "We could organize a fundraiser. The village would help, wouldn't they? Everyone loves the library."
Lily's expression softened slightly. "Annabelle…"
"How much would we need?" Annabelle pressed.
"To keep Mrs. Patterson's position for the year… approximately fifteen thousand pounds."
There was a collective intake of breath.
But Annabelle was already nodding, her mind spinning with possibilities. "We can do that. I know we can."
"That's a lot of money," Lily said gently.
"But it's not impossible," Annabelle insisted. "St. Mary's raised twenty thousand for their roof!"
"That took three years."
"Then we'll just have to be creative," Annabelle said, feeling her optimism surge back with a vengeance. "We can do this. The library is too important to lose without a fight."
The meeting wrapped up shortly after, everyone filing out. Annabelle practically floated back to her classroom, her exhaustion forgotten in the face of this new purpose.
"Ms. Swift?" Nina appeared beside her as she was setting out the morning's phonics worksheets. "About the library…"
"Oh, Nina, isn't it wonderful?" Annabelle beamed. "Well, not wonderful that they're cutting it, obviously, but wonderful that we can do something about it! I've already got so many ideas."
"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Nina said, fidgeting with her cardigan sleeve. "I think it's brilliant that you want to help. You're amazing for even thinking of it."
Annabelle felt herself flush with pleasure. "Oh, I'm not…"
"You are," Nina said firmly. "But maybe… maybe you should talk to Ms. Fairchild about it? Like, properly? Make a plan? She didn’t seem like she took you very seriously."
"That's a wonderful idea," Annabelle said, beaming.
"You’re right, Lily does need a little time to think things over.
I'll pop by her office at lunch. I'm already thinking of so many things we could do.
Bake sales, obviously, my lemon biscuits always sell well.
And sponsored reads. The children would love that.
Maybe even a concert of some sort? A talent show? "
Nina nodded enthusiastically, though she looked slightly overwhelmed by Annabelle's rapid-fire planning. "Those all sound great."
"I should write this down," Annabelle said, already rummaging in her bag for her notebook. "Before I forget. Oh, this is going to be wonderful, Nina. Just wait and see."
The morning passed in a blur of teaching and barely contained excitement. By the time lunch rolled around, Annabelle had mentally planned at least seven different fundraising events and was considering an eighth.
She found Lily in her office, surrounded by paperwork and looking thoroughly fed up with the world.
"Before you start," Lily said without looking up, "I already know you're going to do this regardless of what I say, so I'm saving us both time by agreeing to it now."
Annabelle laughed and dropped into the chair across from Lily's desk. "Am I that predictable?"
"You're that relentlessly optimistic," Lily said, finally looking up with a small smile. "Go on then. Tell me what you're thinking."
Annabelle launched into her ideas with enthusiasm. Bake sales, plural, because one wouldn't be enough. Sponsored reading challenges. A raffle. Maybe a book fair. Possibly a talent show or concert if they could organize it.
Lily listened, occasionally interjecting with practical concerns. Insurance. Volunteers. Timing. Where they'd hold events. How they'd manage publicity without overwhelming themselves.
"It's a lot of work, Annabelle," Lily said eventually. "Fifteen thousand pounds is an enormous amount of money."
"I know," Annabelle said. "But we can do it. I really think we can."
"And you're already teaching full-time," Lily continued. "Taking on a project this size… it might be too much."
"It won't be," Annabelle said with sunny determination. "I'll delegate. I'll ask for help. It'll be fine."
Lily studied her for a long moment, then sighed. "Alright. But I want you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"If this gets to be too much, if you're overwhelmed, you'll tell me. You'll let people help. You won't try to do everything yourself."
"I promise," Annabelle said easily. Though privately she thought Lily was worrying about nothing. She was perfectly capable of managing a fundraiser alongside her teaching. How hard could it be?
"And there’s one condition."
"Name it."
"You work with a committee. I don’t care who’s on it, just that there are other adults involved that aren’t just you. Clear?"
Annabelle grinned. "Perfectly."
The rest of the afternoon passed in a pleasant haze.
The children were well-behaved, well, mostly, if you didn't count Thomas gluing his fingers together during craft time, and Indra opening the window to feed Billy the local bull carrots from her packed lunch, and Annabelle found herself humming as she tidied the classroom after the final bell.
"You're in a good mood," Nina observed, stacking chairs.
"I'm just excited," Annabelle said. "About the fundraiser. About saving the library. It's all going to work out beautifully, I can feel it."
Walking home in the soft evening light, Annabelle let herself feel the exhaustion that had been lurking at the edges of her consciousness all day. She was tired. Properly, bone-deep tired from the sleepless night.
But she was also hopeful. And hope, she'd always found, was worth a bit of tiredness.
Once home, she changed into comfortable clothes and surveyed her kitchen, considering her options.
She’d deal with the library debacle. But first, she had to deal with the Raven debacle.
Because, and here was the thing, it had all been a misunderstanding.
And Annabelle was sure that Raven would see that now that she’d have time to calm down.
Plus, well, there was the noise. As much as she loved free concerts, Annabelle also loved a bit of sleep now and again.
She pulled out her favorite notepaper, the cream-colored kind with little flowers around the border, and uncapped her pen.
Hi Raven!
I hope you're settling in wonderfully! I wanted to let you know that I've been absolutely loving the music coming from your cottage, you're so talented!
I teach at the local primary school, which means I'm usually up quite early in the mornings.
Would it be possible for any late-night jam sessions to wrap up by midnight or so?
I completely understand the creative process can't be scheduled, so no worries if not! Just thought I'd ask.
All the best,
Annabelle
She read it over three times, added a smiley face after her name, decided that was too much and crossed it out, then decided it looked too stark without it and drew a new one. Too many exclamation marks? No, just enough. They took the sting out of things that might be too rude otherwise.
Perfect. Friendly but not pushy. Understanding but clear.
Now for the biscuits.
She took some of the ones she’d already baked and put them in a tin. There.
The note was kind. The biscuits were delicious. Raven would understand everything, and everything would be fine.
Everything was always fine, really, if you just approached it with the right attitude.
The walk to Raven's cottage took less than a minute.
The evening was soft and golden, the kind of light that made everything look like a painting.
But Raven's cottage was dark and Annabelle felt a small pang of disappointment.
She'd rather hoped to actually talk to her neighbor properly this time. Maybe even with some clothes on.
Still, leaving the biscuits and note would work just as well.
She set the tin down carefully on the doorstep, made sure the note was securely tucked underneath so it wouldn't blow away, and stepped back to admire her work.
There. Perfect.
Raven would come home, find the thoughtful gesture, and understand that Annabelle wasn't angry or upset. Or weird or a stalker. Just a neighbor asking for a small favor. Nothing dramatic. Nothing complicated.
And now she could turn her full attention back to planning the greatest fundraiser Bankton had ever seen.