Chapter 17
Seventeen
Gemma
Wow, Quinn’s house is everything I wish Clover House to be and more. I hold Cora in my arms and she coos a little as she plays with my hair.
‘Come through to my studio.’
Quinn leads the way along her stretched hallway.
The floor-to-ceiling glass all along the left-hand side is a sight to behold, and so much thought has gone into the exterior.
With every step, the outside strip is picture perfect.
My mouth is ajar so I close it. A small channel has been dug out alongside the building and it’s lush with Koi carp.
‘Wow, your place is gorgeous.’ The wall to my right is full of framed pictures of children’s characters, some of them I recognise, then there are doors which must lead to other rooms. I realise I don’t even know what Quinn does for a living.
She used to like art. She was always drawing cartoons and making up stories.
I find myself catching my breath. Quinn liked to make things up which caused rifts between me and the other kids.
She’d tell me things about them that weren’t true to make me not want to befriend them.
It’s like she wanted me all to herself. I shake my negative thoughts away.
People grow up. It’s wrong to dwell on the past.
Cora is enthralled by the wall art and she points excitedly as we pass each picture.
Quinn’s parents used to own this house but it’s changed a lot since back then.
‘What is it you do in your studio?’
She lets out a small laugh as she unlocks the door at the end of the hallway. ‘You know me, I was only ever good at art.’
‘You’re an artist?’ I’m impressed but not at all surprised. She must be an amazing artist to afford all this. I almost envy her talent. I was good with numbers but not much else, although Ethan opened my eyes to the world of interior design, so I got better at being creative.
‘I started out as an illustrator,’ she continues, ‘then I started writing. In fact, your aunt mentored me, when she wasn’t out there foraging in the woods for fruit.’
I smile at the memory. Aunt Dorette used to have a little basket that she’d fill with berries and pears. She used to call the outdoors nature’s pantry.
‘I have so much to thank her for.’ Quinn comes closer and smiles at Cora. ‘I really miss Harry being this small. He was adorable with his puffy cheeks. It goes in a blink. She is such a sweetheart.’
‘She is, we love her to bits.’ A twinge of sadness washes through me. I wish I’d tried to get Aunt Dorette to come and stay with us because she was good to me. My mother and her used to argue so they didn’t speak often, but after Mum died almost ten years ago, I should have made an effort.
I think back to my last summer spent at Clover Lane and I wonder if Quinn is thinking about our summers more now I’m back.
I’m struggling to get the last one out of my mind and I know she must feel the same.
She must think about Jasmine. I feel a little sick so I swallow a couple of times. The marmalade on toast repeats on me.
As we enter her studio, I take in the huge white space, almost double height with skylights. I may have said wow under my breath but Quinn isn’t looking at me, so maybe I didn’t.
‘Shiny,’ Cora shouts at the skylights.
‘Yes, they are shiny, darling.’
The floor is pristine oak. It’s not laminated, it’s the real deal.
Everything oozes high-end quality. Her desk spans along the whole of the one wall.
There are storyboards hanging up above it, then I click Mika’s Magical Bicycle .
‘Morgan grew up watching that programme. Did you do all this?’ I’m in awe of all her pictures on the opposite wall.
My daughter used to be enthralled by Mika’s world, and she’s even enjoyed watching the cartoons again with Cora.
The animated series centred around a poor girl whose father bought her an old bike from a garage sale, only for her to find out that when she cycled, it would take her anywhere in the universe.
She’d land on planets and get sucked into black holes.
I smile at the cat illustration. ‘And that’s Curly, her cat.
’ I can see my aunt’s influence in her work. Aunt Dorette loved anything magical.
Quinn nods. ‘Yep, Curly, her trusty companion who travelled everywhere in the bike basket.’
‘Curly,’ Cora says with a giggle.
‘How did I not know that you created all this?’ I glance at a drawing of a girl in a cape with a baby dragon by her side. ‘Is that something you’re working on?’
Quinn nods. ‘That’s Project Klara. Klara has a dragon called Mindy and Mindy has had her fire stolen.
Klara helps her to find the fire in her belly so that she can defeat her enemies and get her fire back.
She’ll hopefully be coming to our TVs early next year on a streaming service.
I can’t say who with yet, and I think they’re talking about merch too. ’ She holds her crossed fingers up.
‘Congratulations. That’s amazing.’
‘We didn’t keep in touch.’ Quinn’s mouth downturns. ‘You said you’d write.’ She lets out a small laugh. ‘I waited for your letters that never came. I even wrote you a letter but I didn’t have your address. I put it in the post box anyway. Silly, I know.’
It’s true, I didn’t write. I pinky promised her I would, but when I got home, I couldn’t do it, and now I feel bad. I left Quinn and Clover Lane, confused. I tried so hard to pretend that feeling didn’t exist. As I go to speak, the words are trapped in my throat and I can’t talk.
‘It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I’m just glad to have my bestie back in my life after all this time, and we’re both grown up with children which is really exciting.
Fill me in. I want to know everything.’ She walks over to a fridge and pulls out a carton of juice and a pack of cream cakes. ‘Does Cora want cake or a drink?’
‘She can have a bit of mine?’
She pours the juice into two tumblers that she takes from a cupboard. She even has a kitchenette in her studio. I’m in total awe.
‘I met Ethan in high school but we got together when I was nearly eighteen.’
‘And you’re still together. That’s cute.’ She tilts her head and passes me a cake.
We both sit on the bucket chairs by the picture window and she places the drinks on a coffee table.
I offer a sip of the juice up to Cora’s lips and she takes a little.
Quinn’s Japanese-inspired back garden grabs my attention, and I can’t help but focus on the bridge over the pond that wasn’t there when I used to visit.
She carries on speaking. ‘What did you do after school?’
‘I worked in an accounting office and studied at the same time. Ethan trained as a builder and started renovating small properties after his apprenticeship. We started working on them together, but then I had Morgan so I helped where I could. I lost Mum ten years ago. She got ill.’
‘Sorry to hear that. I remember your mum, she was really nice.’
I brush over that as it makes me sad when I think of Mum’s death. I’ll never stop missing her. ‘I went into property developing full time with Ethan after that.’
‘You were such a swat all those years ago. I remember you revising through the summer. I seriously thought you’d become a maths teacher.
’ She presses her lips together and looks at me, like she’s taking me in.
‘And now you’re here, working on another house.
You two are brilliant. I’m happy for you. ’
‘How about you?’ I look around again and I know my life story probably sounded as dull as the weather is outside compared to hers.
I catch sight of a huge TV award certificate on her wall, and there’s a photo of her with a newsreader who is handing her a trophy.
Our lives are worlds apart. I think of Aunt Dorette, how her success was coming to an end and how it looks like Quinn has gone from strength to strength.
I know Aunt Dorette would have been happy for Quinn, especially if she mentored her, but had it all been too much?
Could that be a reason for my aunt to take her own life?
The balcony was rickety but Aunt Dorette already knew that.
Quinn takes a deep breath. ‘I went to uni and studied to be an illustrator, then I had no idea what to do next. I spent a few months drawing, inventing characters and, as my mum called it at the time, dossing. Eventually, she said I had to earn some money, pay some housekeeping.’
I let out a laugh. ‘I remember your mum. Is she…?’ Damn, do I say alive or dead? I decide to leave the sentence hanging. In hindsight, I should have let her finish.
‘Car accident, twelve years ago. I was with her in the car at the time. She died and I…’
‘I am so sorry that you’ve lost your mum too.’
‘It’s okay, honestly. I miss her. We were a small family because Dad and Gran died when I was a kid.
’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Anyway,’ Quinn says with a smile.
‘Back then, Mum applied for a job on my behalf. I worked at the arcade in Whitby while I drew but I got nowhere with my art. Every day, all I’d do was check the machines, clean up, give people change – and then I got my break.
I’d been submitting pitches to agents and TV production companies.
I came up with Mika and one of them loved her. ’ She pauses.
‘And look how well you’ve done.’ I can’t help but gaze around and take it all in again.
She looks into her lap and both of us ignore our cream cakes. I sip the juice and wait for her to continue.
‘I met a producer and well, we got close, fast, and what we had lasted about two weeks but I ended up with Harry. He is my true love in life and my reason for being. I don’t regret anything.
When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified but I really wanted him, like more than anything.
I knew I’d be raising him alone but I didn’t care.
I’ve never looked back. My son has been my life ever since. ’