Chapter 18
MICHAEL
Kate bags up a bunch of carrots and hands over some change. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asks me.
I shrug. ‘No idea.’
‘What did it say again?’
‘It said thanks for the application, that they liked the sample I sent and they’d like to see a whole portfolio. Something with a theme rather than portraits so they could see the scope of my work.’
‘Wow.’ She tucks back her blonde hair, the light catching the golds.
After tossing and turning all night, I still haven’t made a decision. ‘I’ve only got a few weeks until the submission deadline. I don’t know if I’ve got time for anything else.’
She folds her arms. ‘Mike, you’ve got to take the shot. Do you want to be a painter and decorator or do you want to be an actual artist?’
I take a bite out of my apple. ‘It’s not that simple.’
‘It is, though.’
I swallow. ‘I’ve got a new job, extra hours. I need to help out; the gas board cut off our supply.’
She pulls at her bottom lip with the slightly crooked incisor that she’s hated since we were at school.
‘Look, I love your mam and dad, you know that, but you’ve got your own life to live.’
‘That may well be, but…’ I scratch my temple, pushing aside the look on Mam’s face this morning as she’d counted the last of the housekeeping to pay for some loo roll. I’d told her I’d pick some up on my way back. ‘They said I need a thematic approach. I don’t know what that means.’
‘Why do you do that?’
‘What?’
‘Make out you’re not as clever as you are. You know exactly what it means.’
‘I guess it means having more focus than some lass I met for one night?’
She cracks a smile. ‘Finally come to your senses, have you?’
I shrug. ‘I can’t very well send them a load of pictures of this place, can I? It’s grim as fuck.’
‘Maybe that could be your title?’ She scribbles invisible words in the air. ‘Welcome to Yorkshire… Grim as fuck.’
I laugh as she leans back against the wall. ‘Joking aside, but that’s life, isn’t it? But look around you, Mike…’ She pushes herself off the wall and turns her attention to a customer. ‘Morning, Mrs Evans! What can I get you? The beef tomatoes are a good batch…’
I frown, looking around, Kate’s words ringing in my ears.
For the last year, the only bits of beauty, of hope, were Alice.
But as I sit here, on an upturned crate next to Kate’s stall, I start spotting things I’ve been walking past for ages.
The laughter across the market, an elderly woman, shuffling along, knowing folk’s names by heart.
The little lass who wanted a sky on her wall.
Then I think of Alice, the canal lit up like Christmas.
I look up at Kate; she’s laughing, the sun kissing her skin, freckles blooming across her nose.
She catches my eye and gives me a wink, like she’s just lifted a top hat and revealed a bunny beneath it, and I guess she kind of has.
I just hadn’t been able to see the light behind the soot and sweat of my hometown.
Ripping off a piece of paper from Kate’s notebook, I begin making fast lines: sweeps of expression, the shutters on some of the shops, a woman’s hand as she holds a toddler’s.
Kate, her smile, the way her hair catches the light.
A blood-red rose lies fallen from the nearby florist’s stall.
Its stem is almost bare, the petals scattered and bruised beside it, the leaves mostly lost. Still, the colours sing against the grey concrete.
I stay for a few hours, then make my way back home, hesitating outside the pub. I push open the doors, the dark swallowing the summer light from outside.
‘Back about the job?’ Eric asks, wiping around the inside of an ashtray.
‘It’s still going?’
‘Yep.’
‘Great.’
He straightens the ashtray and wipes down the mahogany. ‘You want it?’
I take a breath. ‘No, but I know someone who might. Leave it with me, yeah?’
‘Be quick about it or it’ll be gone, lad.’
It doesn’t take me long to find Bobby’s house. I haven’t seen him around since the night I met Alice.
He looks tired as he opens the door. ‘Michael? What’s up?’ he asks, suspicious.
‘Nowt much. I was just passing and thought I’d knock on. Let you know there’s a job going at the pub. Part-time. If you’re interested?’
His hand opens and closes, the damage from the last job flexing. ‘Cheers. Appreciate that, mate.’
‘No bother. Eric’s a good sort, but you might want to get over there quickly.’
‘Will do. And thanks again. I owe you one.’
‘Ah, you can give me a free pint next time I’m in, yeah?’
He closes the door, and I make my way across town. I’m almost out of paper. I need some new pencils too, but I’ll have to make do with sharpening what I already have else I’ll be wiping my arse on newspaper for the rest of the week.