‘Then, in 1950, the factory closed and relocated to Yorkshire…’
Lily had tuned out. She knew nothing about graphite, but that lack of knowledge hadn’t held her back in any way over the last forty-seven years and she wasn’t worried if she didn’t do anything to improve on it now. There was a display board on the far wall behind the guide’s head. She was too far away to see properly, but the photograph seemed to show a huge sculpture in a city square; presumably it had earnt its place on the wall because the sculpture was made entirely from pencils.
‘…by which time, the company had built up a healthy customer base in the Far East and China.’ The guide’s voice was slow, measured and on the quiet side, which did nothing to liven up his subject matter.
Moira elbowed Lily in the ribs and held the Pencil Museum leaflet up in front of her face. ‘See? I told you this would be interesting. This guide person with the big ears has got his photograph on the back here. His ears look even bigger in real life.’
‘Shhh! Mum, put that thing down.’
Lily was already going over tomorrow’s route in her head. It wouldn’t be a complicated drive – mostly motorway – but the campervan wasn’t built for speed so it would take at least seven hours, and that was without factoring in stops for fuel, food and Moira’s weak bladder. If they left at nine the following morning, they’d be lucky to get home by early evening.
‘Of course, the improvement in the quality of the colour was something appreciated from the start by the artistic community…’
Lily could see Eleanor’s attention had also drifted; she had her phone out and her head was bent over the screen. It couldn’t be work on a Sunday; she was probably texting Paul. She’d reminded Lily earlier that they’d had to cancel their London plans because she was still in Keswick. Lily had apologised – again – but couldn’t help feeling irritated, she really didn’t think any of this was her fault – she hadn’t asked Eleanor to come and stay. Why did her daughter always need to cast blame? Nick had been the same; if something went wrong, it was invariably someone else’s fault – usually Lily’s, even if she hadn’t been directly involved.
She watched her daughter push a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and saw her smile down at the phone screen as her finger flew across it, typing out a reply. It was interesting to be able to watch Eleanor without her knowing she was being observed, and it was good to see her looking relaxed – happy even. However much they bickered and bitched and irritated the hell out of each other, she did love this girl of hers, so very much.
Over the last day or so she’d realised that, despite the fact that they’d been thrown together in Keswick, she was pleased Eleanor had stuck around. The two of them hadn’t spent this much time in each other’s company for years. Because Eleanor and Paul also lived near Brighton, they’d never needed to stay overnight at Lily’s; even when there was a family birthday or other cause for celebration, they rarely hung around for longer than a couple of hours. Last Christmas, they had arrived at Lily’s little terraced house just before midday and were gone again by the time the credits were rolling on the King’s speech.
It hadn’t occurred to Lily until now, but the diluted amount of time they all spent in each other’s company, meant they knew little about each other’s lives. She obviously knew Eleanor worked for one of the largest legal firms in Brighton, and that she specialised in employment law. But she didn’t actually understand what her daughter did on a daily basis, other than yell at people down the phone and hammer away so furiously on her laptop keyboard that she looked as if she was about to break it. But Eleanor was clearly good at what she did; a couple of months ago Paul had mentioned she’d had unexpected success representing a client at a tribunal about unfair dismissal. ‘She’s a firebrand when she’s standing up there, defending someone!’ he’d said, proudly. Lily had congratulated Eleanor, who’d brushed it off with a dismissive wave of her hand, and the conversation had ended. But now Lily wished she’d pushed harder and tried to find out more. Over the years she had learnt to back off when she got nothing in return from her daughter, possibly as a form of self-preservation. Eleanor clearly didn’t need her, so why bother trying to get closer to her? But, if she was being honest with herself, the lack of communication between them wasn’t just Eleanor’s fault. It was hard discussing Eleanor’s work because Lily had always got the impression that her daughter thought her dim mother wasn’t really capable of understanding what she did. But that could just as easily be Lily projecting her own insecurities onto the situation? She suddenly realised that she hadn’t once asked Eleanor about work since she’d arrived at the guest house, four days ago. That hadn’t been intentional, she just hadn’t thought about it. But what if Eleanor actually found that upsetting and misread her mother’s reticence as a lack of interest in what she did? Come to think of it, Lily hadn’t asked her daughter about the rest of her life either – she hadn’t thought to ask what she and Paul had been planning to do during their time in London. She hadn’t even asked any general questions, such as whether they’d booked any weekends away or whether Paul was enjoying the new job he’d started a couple of months ago.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care – she was fond of her daughter’s boyfriend and had always admired the patience and tolerance with which he dealt with Eleanor and her tantrums. But even when the two of them had been sitting together, eating quiche à la Campbell, their small talk had been very small indeed. It was as if they’d both become so used to squabbling and picking holes in whatever the other one did or said, they’d forgotten how to have normal conversations. They’d forgotten how to care for each other, like mothers and daughters were supposed to do. It meant that the distance between them – created by years of existing as a dysfunctional family unit – had grown larger recently, and they hadn’t even noticed.
The guide was now leading them into another room. ‘This is the biggest pencil in the world!’ he was saying, pointing towards an outsize model, suspended from the ceiling. ‘Can anyone guess how long it is?’
‘Three miles long!’ yelled a small child, and everyone laughed. Lily met his mother’s eye and smiled at her.
She must do something to improve her relationship with Eleanor. Maybe the best thing to do was start talking to her daughter about her own work? She never bothered doing that because she’d got the impression years ago that Eleanor thought the job at the garden centre was lowly and beneath her. But she loved being at Beautiful Blooms and was proud of the part she’d played there. Maybe she should talk about it a bit more and explain how happy it made her? She might even mention Gordy’s relationship woes to Eleanor. She was pretty sure that, when she started talking about Hilary walking out, her daughter would give an exasperated eye-roll and suggest Gordy needed to get a grip on himself. But she didn’t actually know that for a fact; Eleanor might just be sympathetic?
The guide had announced the actual length of the gigantic pencil – Lily wasn’t concentrating and had missed it – and was now taking questions from the group. Eleanor had moved forward to stand beside her grandmother and, as Lily watched, they both laughed at something Moira was saying, then looked apologetic when the guide frowned in their direction.
After the tour, they came out of the museum through the gift shop. Lily felt sorry for the bored girl sitting behind the till, so bought a pack of sketching pencils which she knew she’d never use.
‘Are you ready, Mum?’ she called.
Moira was leaning forward peering at a wall display, where hundreds of pencils were arranged by colour. ‘It’s like a rainbow!’ she beamed. ‘Who would have thought there were so many different types of blue! Take a photo of me, Lily, by all these pencils. Lily pulled out her phone as Moira puffed out her chest and grinned inanely at her. ‘Camembert!’ she yelled.
‘I’ll need copies of all these photographs,’ she said, as she turned back to the wall display. ‘To go into my book.’
‘We’ll wait for you outside,’ Lily said, and pushed open the door to the courtyard. Eleanor was already out there, sitting on a low wall, her head tilted up towards the sun.
‘I was thinking,’ Lily said, perching down beside her. ‘Why don’t you come back with us, in the van?’ She was surprised at herself, she hadn’t been thinking about that at all, but it suddenly seemed like a good idea.
‘I’ve already got my train ticket,’ said Eleanor.
‘Can’t you get the money back? I just thought it might be a nice idea, for us all to travel back together. It seems crazy for you to pay for a train, when we’re heading the same way anyway.’
‘It will be quicker by train.’
‘Not necessarily. You’ve got to change twice, and then you have to get across London with all your luggage.’
‘I suppose so, although that’s not a big deal,’ said Eleanor. ‘Anyway, it’s not exactly comfortable in that van. It’s noisy and the suspension is crap. How would I get on with any work?’
‘You could sit at the table in the back and you’d have lots of space,’ said Lily. ‘It’s no different to sitting on a train, except it would be more fun, because you’ll have our scintillating company for the journey!’
Eleanor was looking at her, frowning, her head on one side. Lily realised she was probably as taken aback by receiving the invitation, as Lily was by having given it.
‘Well, I suppose I could see if I can get the ticket refunded? I’ll check on the app.’
‘Good! Yes, do that. Excellent. I’m thinking we’ll head off after an early breakfast, say about 9am?’
‘Okay.’ Eleanor seemed bemused by the whole conversation. ‘Thank you.’
The shop door swung open and Moira came out, carrying a bulging carrier bag. ‘Ah, there you are,’ she said. ‘I’ve bought a few pencils.’
‘You look like you’ve bought more than a few,’ Lily said, getting up and peering into the top of the bag. ‘There are hundreds in there!’
‘Oh, don’t exaggerate, Lily.’ Moira tutted. ‘At least these should keep me going over the winter. I’ve got a lot of writing to do.’ As she turned to walk away, the toe of her shoe caught on the edge of a paving slab and although she managed to stop herself falling, she dropped the plastic bag and pencils scattered across the ground.
‘My pencils!’ she screeched.
‘Don’t worry, Granny.’ Eleanor went down on her hands and knees and began to gather them up.
‘They’ll all be broken though,’ wailed Moira, as Lily held her arm tightly to steady her.
‘They’re fine!’ said Eleanor, putting the final few back into the bag and standing up again. ‘Here, good as new. Shall I carry it for you?’
As she took Moira’s other arm and helped guide her towards the car park, she looked across and caught Lily’s eye.
‘Well done!’ mouthed Lily.
Eleanor grinned back at her.
‘If any of those leads are broken, I’m going to come straight back and complain to that guide with the big ears,’ Moira was saying. ‘Did you see the size of them? He was a proper Mr Spock.’