I didn’t hear anything at all about the application for a couple of weeks. I tried to put the grant out of my head and concentrate on Nan, and Tall Trees and The Vine, but I kept checking my emails and picking up my phone to see if I’d had a missed call. The closing date had been and gone and I thought it was probably time to accept that it had been awarded to someone else. It was no biggie, I told myself. No big deal.
But I was still disappointed.
‘So you’ve not heard anything?’ Tara asked one day at The Vine when I was gloomily wiping down the tables. ‘Is that why you’re moping?’
‘I’m not moping, I’m distracting myself.’
She tutted. ‘Is it working?’
‘No.’
I sat down at the table I was supposed to be cleaning and sighed. ‘I really thought this might be the beginning of something for me. A new start.’ I reached out and picked up a beer mat, spinning it on one side absent-mindedly.
Tara came over and picked up the empty glasses I’d stacked up. ‘It still could be. Even the fact that you got it together enough to apply is a new start.’
‘I suppose.’
‘And you got to meet your hottie professor.’
‘I’ve not heard from him, either. He’s doing exams.’
‘Surely he’s done with all that stuff?’ Tara frowned.
‘He’s not taking the exams himself; his students are doing the exams and he’s got to mark them.’
‘Thrilling.’ Tara shifted the glasses to her other hand and knocked the beer mat from my hand. ‘Come on, misery guts. I’ve got you for thirty more minutes and I’m going to work you hard.’
I groaned. I’d not been sleeping well and the thought of going straight from a lunchtime shift at the bar to an evening shift at Tall Trees made me feel tired. ‘Can’t I just sit here until it’s time to leave?’
‘Not if you want me to pay you.’
‘Fine.’ With an eye roll to rival Micah’s best, I got up as my phone buzzed in my back pocket. ‘Hang on.’
I took it out and read the message. It was from Blessing. “Please come and see me when you arrive for your shift,” she’d written. “I need to speak to you about your community grant art application.”
‘Weird,’ I murmured, showing the screen to Tara. ‘I don’t think I’ve even told her about the application.’
Tara put the dirty glasses on the bar and gestured to them. Obediently I followed her and started stacking them in the glasswasher.
‘You didn’t tell her?’
‘No. Why would I?’
‘Erm, how about because she manages Tall Trees and you’ve just applied for a load of cash to cover one of its walls with paint?’
I put my hand to my mouth. ‘Oh God, you’re right. I was so busy worrying about books and rough sketches that I didn’t think to check it would be okay.’
Tara raised an eyebrow. ‘I guess she found out somehow.’
‘Do you think she’s going to sack me?’
‘Maybe. I would if it were me.’
I felt sick. ‘I need this job, Tara,’ I said, beginning to panic. ‘What will I do if she sacks me?’
Tara reached out and caught my hands. ‘Calm down,’ she said, looking straight at me. ‘Sorry, I was just messing with you. I should have made it more obvious. Breathe. Are you breathing?’
I nodded, feeling the panic subside. ‘Sorry,’ I said.
Tara squeezed my fingers and let go and I leaned against the bar. ‘I’m such a loser,’ I said, mostly to myself.
‘You’ve been having panic attacks again, huh?’
‘A few, but not as bad.’ I felt a bit embarrassed admitting it. ‘Micah’s been helping me.’
‘Micah the teenager?’
‘He has anxiety. We’re helping each other.’
‘That’s cute. Are you using the stuff you learned in your course?’
‘I didn’t learn much, but I guess so. He’s started doing some collages and stuff.’
Tara gave me a look that suggested she was impressed. ‘And he helps you, how?’
‘He goes to a therapist and then he comes home and tells me all the strategies she’s told him.’
‘Trickle-down psychiatry,’ Tara said with a wry smile. ‘If it’s working for you, honey, then that’s great.’
Suddenly self-conscious, I turned away from her to shut the glasswasher and fiddled with the controls.
‘Go on,’ Tara said. ‘Go and see Blessing. She’ll be fine.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Totally. She needs you more than you need her. Good care home staff aren’t easy to find.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Go on. Text me when you’re done.’
Spontaneously, I kissed her cheek. She stayed still, but she looked pleased.
‘Thanks, Tara,’ I said.
*
Probably because I wanted it to be slow, my journey to Tall Trees was quick and easy. I locked up my bike and before I could get distracted by anything or anyone else, walked straight to Blessing’s office and, with slightly shaky hands, I knocked on the open door.
She was at her desk, surrounded by paperwork, which made me smile. I knew we were supposed to be paper-free now, but she kept printing stuff out anyway.
‘Hi,’ I said, trying to sound casual and not like a woman about to grovel to keep her job. ‘You wanted to see me?’
She looked up and pointed at me. ‘Yes! Sit down. Let me find what I was looking at.’
I slid into the chair she’d gestured to and focused out of the window. I could see Helen, the new resident, walking in the grounds. Even though Tall Trees – my bit at least – was a care home rather than a nursing home, she was still quite young to be here. She was probably about a decade younger than Val or some of the other residents. In fact, striding across the grass, she looked both young and fit compared with some of our residents. I wondered if she had a condition I hadn’t yet been told about. Something degenerative, perhaps. It was possible.
‘I had an email from the council,’ Blessing was saying. ‘Here it is.’ She pulled a piece of paper from under one of her piles. ‘And they said you’d applied for a grant to paint the wall.’
She tapped the end of her biro on the print-out and turned it round so I could read it. Except I couldn’t really make the words out because my eyes were filling with tears.
‘I’m so sorry, Blessing. I didn’t think to ask. I was sort of bursting with ideas and excitement and Finn – you know Finn? He said I should just do the application without overthinking it too much, so I did.’
Blessing held her pen up to stop me talking and I shut my mouth. ‘Sorry,’ I said again.
‘It’s a good idea,’ she said.
‘It is?’
‘You don’t think so?’
‘Well, yes, I do. Because that wall is always graffitied, and I thought we could make it look better.’
Blessing nodded. ‘I didn’t know you were an artist.’
I ducked my head, embarrassed. ‘Well, I’m not really,’ I said apologetically. ‘I mean, I sort of was beginning to be, but then, well, I had some trouble with my brother … you know? And now I mostly just work here.’
Blessing looked at me with her chin resting in her hand. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. But then she smiled. ‘Women need to shout about what they do more often, don’t you think? We are very good at staying quiet about our achievements. Men go on about them enough.’ She leaned over the desk like she was sharing a secret. ‘And most of the time, they have nothing to boast about.’
I looked at her, unsure if I was supposed to answer. She chuckled. ‘Nothing at all to boast about,’ she said. ‘You’re on the top corridor today. And we’re one down in the canteen, because Marie’s off sick, so can you help serve dinner, too?’
‘Oh,’ I said. Did that mean our conversation was over? ‘Yes, of course. Thank you.’
I hurried away, feeling like I’d dodged a bullet and still slightly confused. It was only when I was checking the dinner menus a bit later that I realised I hadn’t actually read the email from the council, and I still didn’t know what it said.
‘Probably another reason to turn me down,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Not having proper permission.’
I should tell Finn, I thought. Warn him that the project was a no-go. I felt a bit sad about not having an excuse to spend time with him after all, but at least he’d still be around. Though summer was coming and didn’t universities have really long holidays? He’d probably vanish after the exams were over and not reappear until October.
Suddenly struck with self-pity I slumped into one of the dining chairs and pulled my phone out of my tunic pocket, planning to message Finn and let him know the bad news. Maybe I’d make it sound positive, like thank goodness it wasn’t happening because I didn’t have time anyway because I was working at The Vine. And that way it was a subtle reminder about where I would be if he ever fancied a drink. I unlocked my phone and saw, with a lurch of nerves, that I also had an email from the council.
‘That’s it, then,’ I said aloud. ‘Game over.’
I jabbed my screen with my finger to open the email and stared in amazement at the first word.
“Congratulations!” it read.
‘What the …?’
With growing astonishment I read on: “Dear Stephanie, thank you for your application for the Presents from the Past community art grant. I’m pleased to inform you that you have been successful. We’d love you to come in and meet the committee and have a chat about your plans. As we’re eager to get things going as soon as possible, please give the office a ring when convenient and we can find a date that suits us all.”
I closed the email and took a deep breath. Was I dreaming? Had I misread it? I opened it up again and read it through once more. No, I hadn’t misread it. The grant was mine. I was going to be able to do the mural, and start my own book, and find Elsie. Blessing’s email had obviously been to tell her the news and now she’d probably told Vanessa and all the other staff would know.
And every time anyone walked past Tall Trees or drove along the road, or trundled by in a bus, they’d see my artwork looking back at them.
‘Oh shit,’ I gasped as the enormity of what this meant hit me. ‘I can’t do this.’
My chest tightened in panic. I’d have to ring them and tell them I wasn’t able to take on the grant after all. And then I’d have to leave. Go somewhere else, so I didn’t have to live with the embarrassment of turning it down. Maybe I could go and live with my dad in Portugal? But then who’d look after my nan? Who’d visit her and check she was doing okay? My breathing was shallow and my head was swimming. I gripped the edge of the table tightly, thinking of Micah and his strategies for dealing with his anxieties. Focus on your senses, yeah? I remembered him saying. Think about something you can smell, or touch.
I rubbed my fingertips on the tablecloth I was clutching. It was soft cotton that had been washed hundreds of times. I always thought it was silly to use tablecloths when it would be easier just to wipe down the tables, but Blessing said the residents liked them. And right now I was glad of it. I concentrated on the feeling of the fabric under my fingers. Soft, I thought, and tightly woven.
My breathing began to feel more normal. Maybe, I thought, maybe I could do this. Micah would be there to help. And Finn, hopefully. And Tara would do what she could. And frankly giving it a go would be much less humiliating than walking away. I smoothed out the cloth with my palms. And perhaps it could help other people say the things they wanted to say, before it was too late?
‘I’m going to do it,’ I whispered.
‘Do what? Where is everyone?’
I turned in my chair to see Mr Yin standing behind me, looking round at the empty dining room. ‘I’m early for dinner,’ he said in confusion. ‘I think my watch must be fast.’ He shook his wrist and gave me a little grin. ‘Can I get mine now? I’m hungry already.’
I stood up and gestured for him to sit down in the chair where I’d been sitting. ‘Make yourself comfy,’ I said. ‘I’ll get you something to keep you going. Dinner won’t be long.’
‘Thank you.’ He sat down and neatly folded his hands on top of each other on the table. ‘But don’t let me keep you. Didn’t you say you had something to do?’
‘I did.’
‘What was it? Something important?’
‘I’m going to paint a mural on the end wall that’s always covered in graffiti.’
Mr Yin looked delighted. ‘That’s marvellous. Well done.’
‘Yes, it is marvellous,’ I agreed. ‘At least, I hope it will be.’
‘I have faith in you, Stephanie.’
I beamed at him. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I hope it’s not misguided.’