Chapter 27 #2
‘A temporary building, like school huts. It was initially built for the injured airmen from the bomb at Biggin Hill but it was used throughout the whole war.’
‘When was the bomb?’
‘November 1940,’ he said.
I felt a little shiver of excitement run through me. ‘So it does fit. Maybe Elsie’s fella was one of the airmen?’
‘Maybe he was.’
‘Could you find out?’
‘Probably.’
I clutched his arm. ‘Please tell me he survived, and he and Elsie lived happily ever after.’
‘I didn’t have you down as the romantic type.’ Finn looked amused.
‘Normally I’m not but Elsie’s got me hooked.’ I grinned. ‘And, if we can work out who the mystery man is, then perhaps he’ll help me find Elsie. It would be so perfect to find her.’
‘Wouldn’t it just?’
He turned to me and we looked at each other for a second. I felt something fizz between us and resisted the temptation to reach up and brush his hair back from his face. Then he grinned and my stomach flipped over. Oh dear, I had it bad for my professor.
‘Come on then,’ he said.
‘Where?’
‘I thought you wanted my help with your mural?’
Only a tiny bit disappointed that he’d not meant to whisk me away for a romantic date, I got up from the table. ‘The scaffolding is meant to be arriving tomorrow, but they keep changing the days so I’m not holding my breath,’ I said, as we walked down the corridor.
‘How are you going to paint it?’ Finn said. ‘It’s so big and high up.’
‘I’ll show you.’ I led him into the staffroom where I had my large folder stashed alongside the lockers. ‘Look.’
I took out my final version of the mural. ‘This is my design.’ I smoothed it out on the table and stepped back so I could see it properly.
‘Talk me through it.’
I glanced at him. ‘You’re such a teacher,’ I teased. ‘I remember my lecturers at college saying that.’
‘It’s just good to hear it in your own words.’
I smiled. ‘So obviously the frame around the edge is made up of the tall trees. Then in the background is the outline of the hospital itself. Over here I’ve got silhouettes of soldiers …
’ I paused. ‘But actually I might change that now, tweak it so they’re more like airmen.
There are planes overhead and a searchlight, showing the Blitz.
And then all around the bottom, I’m going to pull out quotes from the book.
I’ve been keeping a list of my favourite bits. ’
‘Do you have enough to choose from?’
‘So many. Some funny bits, some sad, some inspiring.’
‘It sounds wonderful.’ Finn stared at the picture, rubbing his nose. ‘I have a question.’
‘Go on.’
‘How do you get it from here on to the massive wall?’
‘I’ll draw squares on the picture, and then on the wall, and just copy each square. It’s easier than doing it all in one. I’ll do the outline first then fill it in. That’s when I think I’ll need the most help.’
‘So you don’t need me right now?’ Finn sounded disappointed.
‘Not really,’ I admitted. ‘But thanks for offering.’
‘I am very keen to help,’ he said. ‘Honestly.’
‘I know.’
Finn fixed his gaze on the picture on the table. ‘I like spending time with you.’
‘I like that too,’ I said as, much to my annoyance, the door to the staffroom opened and Franklin came in.
‘Dunno what you’ve done to that lot, Stevie, but they’re all totally overexcited. Took me half an hour to get them all in the right place for the talk from the local history chap.’
‘There’s a local history chap?’ I said. ‘What local history chap?’
‘Oh bugger, that’s me,’ Finn said, looking alarmed. ‘I’d totally forgotten. I have to go.’
‘See you later?’ I tried not to sound too hopeful and needy because Franklin was still there, and I was embarrassed to bare my feelings when he was listening.
‘Definitely,’ said Finn. ‘Just let me know when you need help with the painting.’
That was much later than I’d meant – days and days away, rather than hours or minutes. But I just nodded. ‘Will do.’
Looking faintly harassed, Finn hurried off with Franklin, and I started putting away my sketches. Then I had an idea. Perhaps it was ridiculous but I’d never know if I didn’t try.
I left the staffroom and walked quickly down the halls to Val’s room, hoping she’d be there and not at Finn’s talk. She was there, sitting at her little table, much to my relief.
‘Stephanie, hello,’ she said, giving me one of her rare smiles. ‘I’ve just been writing in your book.’
‘Are you done?’
‘Just this minute.’
I bit my lip. ‘If you’re sure you’re finished, then could I take it? But only if you’re sure.’
‘Of course.’ She gave me a sly look. ‘Are you writing your own message?’
I thought about fibbing and making up a reason why I needed it, but my mind was blank.
‘Sort of,’ I said.
‘Here you are.’ She handed me the book and the pens. ‘I hope he replies.’
My cheeks flamed. ‘What? Who? What?’ I stammered.
‘Your young man with the floppy hair. Is that who you’re writing to?’
I looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘You’re too sharp for your own good, Valerie,’ I said. Then I sighed. ‘I’m thinking about it.’
‘Life is too short to spend it thinking,’ Val said. ‘Just do it, Stephanie. Trust me.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
She pulled the other chair out from under the table and patted the seat. ‘Sit down and write it now.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes, here. Or you’ll go away and stew about it, and it’ll never get done. Come on.’
I sat down and opened one of the pages near the back. I’d been thinking about what to write, but now, with Val’s eyes on me, I couldn’t remember what I wanted to say.
‘What should I write?’
Val got up – quite slowly and painfully. I watched her with a carer’s eye, making sure she didn’t pull a muscle. When she was upright, she said: ‘I’m just off to the loo.’
I thought she probably didn’t need the loo at all, but she was giving me some privacy, bless her.
I picked up a pen. “Just do it,” Val had said.
Trying not to overthink it, I drew a little series of pictures.
First of all, I drew Harry Potter, with his floppy hair and scar.
I hoped Finn would know that meant the message was for him.
Then I drew some vine leaves with grapes – meaning The Vine.
That was self-explanatory. I added a clock showing 7 p.m., and then a calendar with Thursday’s date circled.
And finally, not wanting to sign my name, I paused.
When Max and I were little we’d write notes to each other like this.
He would draw a volume dial with the sound turned all the way up – to Max – for him.
And I’d draw a little old-fashioned television with an S on the screen.
S-TV – Stevie. It was naff, but it was all I had. I quickly sketched it out.
‘All done?’ Val emerged from her bathroom, looking serene.
‘All done.’ I closed the book before she could see what I’d written. ‘Thanks, Val.’
‘What are you going to do now?’ she asked.
‘Now I’m going to leave it in Finn’s cubbyhole and hope he replies,’ I said.