Chapter 4
MICHAEL
The chips are gone. I don’t know how long I’ve been drawing her. Could be ten minutes, could be half an hour.
‘When did you know?’ she asks, her voice soft.
‘Know what?’ I ask, glancing from her jawline to the paper.
‘That you love it so much. Art.’
I drag the side of my thumb along the paper, the blue of her eyeliner smudging beneath the shell of her ear.
‘Love is a strong word.’
‘If you could see your face right now, you’d know that love is the perfect word.’
I look up through my hair. ‘It’s just a hobby.’
A few more minutes pass by. The eyeliner is blunt now, barely any colour left. I add a touch more shade to the dimple in her chin then stop.
She twists the ring on her finger. ‘Can I see?’
I shrug and pass her the paper. I’m itching for a cigarette. Instead, I take out a piece of gum.
‘You’ve been generous,’ she says, leaning closer to the paper. ‘Made me more than I am.’
I don’t reply. I haven’t. I’ve drawn her exactly as she is.
Her fingers hover above the lines of her eyes, not touching, just following the shape. ‘Can I keep it?’
‘If you want. You never know, I could die just before I make it big. You might make a few bob.’
‘Well then, you need to sign it. For authenticity.’
She hands it back and I scribble my signature, such as it is.
I crick my neck, look around at the empty street. We’ve still got a few hours left.
‘Shall we walk?’ she asks, folding the paper into her bag. ‘There’s something I want to see.’
The walk through town slips by in bursts of laughter and half-shared stories.
It’s only been a few hours, and I already feel like I’ve known Alice for longer.
We wander up the streets, the air still warm.
Rare for these parts. She prefers non-fiction to fiction and reads the end of a book before she reads the beginning.
She laughs at the look on my face when she tells me that, and when I say she’s just ripped my heart clean out of my chest.
Street lights bounce off puddles from the earlier rain as we make our way further through town; shops become less frequent.
Her eyes catch on the mural next to the hairdressers where Mam goes for a cut and blow dry before special occasions.
I watch her expression, dig my hands into my pockets.
I focus on the pavement, the uneven slabs, before finally finding my balls and looking up.
Her expression is open and alight as she hesitates, hand reaching up and following the outline of the painting I did a few years back.
You can’t really see it any more. Just the outline of hills, the pithead, the rest of my work hidden under posters and adverts.
I want to ask her what she thinks, but she just smiles and carries on walking.
‘So, apart from drawing women you’ve only just met—’ she smirks at me ‘—what do you like to draw? Paint?’
The question is more loaded than she knows. Because I don’t draw what I like. It’s more that I draw what I need. That makes me sound like a dick, though. Instead, I just say I prefer black and white to colour.
‘Kate says I should do more with it. Apply to college, but—’
‘Kate’s your friend?’
‘Aye. Known her since we were nippers. Disagree as much as we agree on things. She’s like my little sister.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Well, the fact that her bloke is a complete tool, for one.’
She snorts. ‘Why is he a tool?’
‘I’m not being fair really. He’s alright. Just likes the sound of his own voice too much.’
We talk about first kisses, first loves, first heartbreak. The journey from teenage years to adults. How one minute you’re a kid and the biggest thing you’ve got to worry about is how many keepie-uppies you can do. Then the next you’re stuck in a shitty job you hate.
‘There’s still time to change it all though, right? Try a new start.’
‘A new start isn’t on the cards for me just now.’
She doesn’t ask why.
Somehow, we end up on the old canal bridge, leaning against the railing.
‘God, you’re impatient,’ she says, shaking her head when I ask again what it is she wants to see.
‘Just look.’ She takes my shoulders and turns me to the left.
‘What? Brown water that smells like rotting feet and walls that are almost coughing up tar?’ She rolls her eyes, then holds up her finger. In the distance, the sound of a train, lights beaming towards us.
‘A train? Hate to break it to you, but—’
She blows a dark curl away from her face. ‘Just wait, OK?’
Alice leans in towards me, her hair blowing across my shoulder. ‘Ready?’
‘I guess?’
A few seconds pass and then the lights from the train hit the derelict building across the canal. I’ve walked past here so many times, and never once noticed the broken stained glass above. As the beam of light gets closer, it catches the window.
And for one perfect moment, the colours fracture across the canal… Reds, blues, greens: a mosaic of colour.
We stand still, just the sound of the train, and the feeling of something magical simmering between us.
‘You see?’ She looks me straight in the eyes. ‘Beautiful.’
I take in the curve of her smile, the browns of her eyes. ‘Aye.’
She breaks eye contact, rubs her arms. I take off my jacket and place it over her shoulders. It’s too big, and she wraps it closer across her chest. I reach forward, pulling the collar up. We’re so close.
I tilt my head. ‘How come you know about this place?’
She hesitates, like she’s choosing her words carefully. ‘Read about it. Yorkshire’s Diamonds in the Rough.’
‘Last bit of the book?’
She knocks me with her shoulder.
‘Non-fiction doesn’t count.’
Time doesn’t feel like it matters right now. The whole night, well, day now, I guess, feels bigger than it is, as if the night itself doesn’t want to end.
All it would take is one small movement. One step closer. But the sound of a stray dog knocking over a bin breaks the moment in two.
‘We’d better get back,’ she says. ‘I can’t miss the bus.’
Our feet echo as we make our way back through town. The milkman is out, bottles rattling on the truck. A few workers in dark clothes with their heads down pass us by. The sun is starting to rise, pinks and yellows sliding up over the grey concrete.
We sit down on the bench. I should be tired, hungover. Instead, I feel more alive than I have in years. I take out a packet of Juicy Fruit and offer one to Alice.
‘So…’ I begin. Trying to find the right words. ‘It’s been a good ni—’
Headlights. The rumble of an engine.
Of all the times for the bus to come early.
‘Well, this is me.’ She takes off my jacket, stands, and stretches out an arm. The bus slows down beside us.
‘Wait…’
Her head leans to the right, dark hair catching on the breeze.
The words stumble out of my mouth. ‘I’d really like to see you again.’
‘I know,’ she says. Then she licks her bottom lip, looks to the bus, then back at me. ‘But I’m out of time.’
Alice rubs her hands together then reaches inside her purse, bringing out my drawing. She rips the corner off and takes out her blue eyeliner. She begins writing, despite the parp of the horn from the bus idling beside the kerb.
‘It was good to meet you, Michael.’ She leans forward, her hair skirting along my jawline. I try not to inhale too loudly. Her mouth leans in, close to my ear. ‘Write to me.’ She pushes the corner of paper into my hand then pulls back, eyes searching mine.
‘I will.’
I look down at the address, but when I look back up, she’s already on the bus walking towards the back, like she’s making her way towards her future and I’m left behind.
My eyes stay on her as I walk along the side of the bus. She sits down on the back seat, turns to me with her hand pushed up against the foggy glass, a smile in place. My hand lifts up and stays that way long after the bus has already rounded the corner.
I pull on my jacket. It’s still warm from her skin, and smells faintly of cherries. I begin walking back along the road when a glint on the pavement catches my eye. I bend and pick it up. Her ring. The sapphire in the centre catching the streetlights.
I hold it in my palm. My vision blurs, and my stomach flips like Kate’s just driven sixty miles an hour over a speed bump, with me in the passenger seat.
I rest a hand on the wall, steadying my balance.
The world comes back into focus. Grey clouds hiding the sunrise. I look at the ring again then close my fist around it.
‘I’ll get it back to you. I promise.’
And I know that as the wind picks up around me, and as the street light flickers off, that I’ll do whatever it takes.