Save Our Souls by Becky Danks

Thalia’s exhausted after a hectic weekend moving back to Birmingham. Glad of some local temp work, she arrives at Spring Hill Library, the majestic Victorian marvel in Ladywood that’s her office for the day.

As instructed, she pushes the accessible button on the side door next to Tesco’s. Nothing happens. An old poster in the window says the library’s closed temporarily for heating repairs but Thalia knows it will never reopen. She’s come to help with a stocktake prior to clearance.

She’s about to phone the recruitment agency when the door slides open.

‘Come in!’ calls a voice. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

Assuming it’s the Library Services Manager, Thalia steps inside. Even in the gloomy winter light, the interior is breathtaking, with glorious gothic windows illuminating the bookshelves. It’s sad to see this once-thriving community hub deserted. Like a time capsule of the recent past, its familiar musty smell takes her back to happier days before her parents’ divorce.

Fairy lights twinkle on a Christmas tree in the corner. On a nearby counter, a Metro dated 14 December 2022 – the day the library closed – announces strike action by workers across the board.

‘Hello?’ she calls. ‘I’m at the front desk. Shall we go through the schedule?’

Silence. 

‘OK, well… I’ll start in the children’s section.’

Mr Greedy by Roger Hargreaves is propped open on a shelf. The first book she ever borrowed! It must be an influential tome, she thinks, for she is prone to comfort eating…

As she’s flicking through its sequel, Mr Greedy Eats Clean to Get Lean, a flutter of wings up in the rafters startles her back to reality. Pigeons in the loft, she tells herself, ignoring the goosebumps on the back of her neck.

The bell in the library tower strikes ten, which is odd since the clock hasn’t worked in years.

‘I’m upstairs,’ calls the voice.

From the second floor balcony, Thalia admires the view of the high ceiling sweeping down to the lending section below. She climbs a narrow staircase to a door marked ‘office.’

‘Enter!’ calls the voice.

As she reaches for the handle, her phone pings. It’s a message from the agency.

‘Morning Thalia, I’m afraid the manager’s running late but should be with you in about half an hour. Go and grab a coffee somewhere while you wait. We’ll let you know as soon as he’s opened the library.’

Fear prickles up her spine. She grips her elbow and glances behind her. It’s a long way to the exit. Too late to turn back, she pushes the office door to with a trembling hand.

Behind an old oak desk, an owl is watching her from its perch on a leather chair.

‘What’re you doing here?!’ exclaims Thalia, bewildered.

‘I belong here,’ says the owl. ‘My name’s Pearl. And you must be Thalia.’

‘Err…’ says Thalia, eyeing the door.

‘I remember you,’ says the owl. ‘Your mother used to bring you here for toddler club.’

Thalia can’t imagine her mom doing any such thing. It must’ve been before addiction took hold. She swallows hard.

‘You’ve been here a long time, then?’ she says, surprised at how easily she’s falling into a conversation with a talking bird.

‘Since opening day in 1893,’ says Pearl.

Thalia’s eyes widen.

‘Who are you?’ she asks.

‘I am the soul of the library,’ says Pearl. ‘I’ve waited so long to welcome people back. Do you know when I’m likely to reopen?’

The owl looks so hopeful. Thalia doesn’t know what to say. There’s a trolley in the corner with a teapot and cups. She peeks in the biscuit tin, weirdly tempted by the two-year-old custard creams.  

‘What if the library never reopened?’ she asks.

Pearl shudders.

‘I’d be dragged to the bottom of the canal to join all the other lost souls.’  

The owl flutters to the window and Thalia follows. The street outside is far less inspiring than the interior view from the balcony.

‘I’ve survived two world wars and seen neighbours perish,’ says Pearl. ‘Not only in the Blitz but from a more local enemy – town planners. The new junction left me isolated. Now all I see is traffic and tower blocks.’

Thalia decides to change the subject.

‘I didn’t think buildings had souls,’ she says.

That ruffles Pearl’s feathers.

‘Tell that to Bert!’ she snaps.

‘Who’s Bert?’

‘I’ll show you. Let’s have a conference call.’

‘Sorry?!’

‘It’s how I keep in touch with my fellow soulbirds. WOO-hoo! Calling Bert at the Electric.’

Alongside Pearl and Thalia’s reflections in the window there appears a mynah bird, pecking popcorn from a cone.

‘You’ve caught me at the treats,’ says Bert. ‘They left a stash when they closed my doors. Bit stale now mind, after nearly a year…’

‘Don’t tell me the Electric’s been abandoned?!’ says Thalia. ‘It’s the UK’s oldest working cinema!’

‘You’ve been gone a long time,’ says Pearl.

‘Me and my neighbours on Station Street are under threat of redevelopment,’ says Bert sadly.

‘WOO-hoo!’ says Pearl. ‘Calling Roland at the Crown.’

A cockatoo shows up with a bright pink mohawk and a ring through its beak. He’s supping a pint of snakebite, music blaring.

‘Turn that racket down,’ shouts Bert.

‘Alright, babs?’ says Roland, lowering the volume. ‘I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty smashed. Found a few kegs in the basement. TUNE!’

The music goes up again and he starts head banging.

‘Love a bit of GBH of a morning,’ he shouts. ‘Blasts the cobwebs away.’

Pearl looks aghast.

‘I mean the punk band, obvs. I’m no criminal. GBH - Brummie legends.’

A hoot from Pearl puts Roland on mute.

‘The Crown’s also on my street,’ explains Bert. ‘It’s known as the birthplace of heavy metal. All the stars played there – even Ozzy Osbourne! – but it’s been closed ten years.’

‘WOO-hoo’ says Pearl. ‘Calling Sunita at Selfridges.’

An elegant hummingbird appears wearing a tiny velvet hat.

‘Wasn’t Selfridges built in 2003?’ says Thalia. ‘I wouldn’t have thought new builds had souls.’

‘EXCUSE ME?!’ says Sunita.

‘Any place built with care has a soul,’ says Pearl. ‘Today’s new building is tomorrow’s old one, after all. WOO-hoo! Calling Leroy at the Lord Clifden.’

A golden goose appears clutching a bottle of champagne.

‘Morning all - good news!’ he says. ‘I’m reopening later this year.’

Everybody cheers.

A thwack against the window makes the images falter.

‘Vultures are circling!’ yells Pearl.

The library lights flicker off and on again.

‘Since when were there vultures in Birmingham?’ says Thalia, spotting two of them flinging stones at the glass.

‘They’re demons in bird form,’ says Pearl. ‘Demons thrive on careless acts. They haunt soulless buildings constructed purely for profit. And they’re spiteful. They attack abandoned places to remind us that we’re vulnerable.’

‘Spring Hill Library’s a listed building though, right?’ says Thalia.

Pearl nods.

‘So is the Crown,’ says Bert. ‘It helps, but it’s no guarantee.’

All of a sudden the lights go out, shrouding the building in darkness. One by one, the soulbirds disappear from the reflection.

‘I’ll start a petition to reopen the library!’ says Thalia, switching on her phone torch.

‘Worth a try,’ says the owl. ‘If it’s not too late.’

She shivers.

‘I’m so cold. They never did fix the heating.’

Another strike rattles the window. Thalia ducks, afraid the glass could shatter.

‘You should go, it’s not safe,’ says Pearl. ‘Ta-ra a bit! And next time a soulless new build pops up, hurry past. Or the demons might get you.’

On her way out, Thalia bumps into the Library Services Manager.

‘You’ll have to postpone your inventory,’ she tells him. ‘There’s an issue with the electrics.’

She runs home to give her mom a hug and google how to set up a petition.