Present day
Finn didn’t call, but he did message me. He said he was very excited about the mural and that he would help me in any way he could.
I read his message, gripping my phone tightly. I was relieved he’d not said it was a silly idea, or made excuses about why he couldn’t help.
I breathed out slowly. Maybe this could work, I thought. And probably I wouldn’t get the grant – I had no doubt there would be other more experienced artists applying – but I felt like even managing to get the grant application written and sent before the deadline would be a victory of sorts.
My phone buzzed in my hand again. It was another message from Finn.
He wouldn’t be around for a while because he was marking dissertations, he said. “But,” he added, “try this link.” Straightaway another message arrived with a password.
I was in the staffroom at Tall Trees because I’d been helping Tarawith a stocktake at The Vine and there wasn’t time to go home before my shift. So now, intrigued to see what Finn had sent, I sat down on one of the saggy armchairs and clicked on the link.
It took me to a basic website, and after I’d typed in the password, it took me a moment to understand what I was seeing. It was the book – Elsie’s book of letters and messages and memories. All the pages that had been scanned in so far.
“This is amazing,” I replied to Finn. “Thank you.”
“Let me know if it sparks your creativity.”
“I will.”
It was infuriatingly hard to see on the tiny screen of my phone, so I got up and wandered to the main entrance of Tall Trees where Vanessa, one of the receptionists, was on duty.
‘Can I use the computer?’ I asked.
She dragged her eyes up from the book she was reading and gave me a hard stare. ‘Are you looking up something dodgy?’
‘No,’ I said, not sure if she was joking or not. ‘It’s about the history of Tall Trees.’
Vanessa raised an eyebrow and tilted her head towards the computer at the end of the desk. ‘Go for it.’
I pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. Then I opened the internet, typed in the link from Finn’s message, and entered the password.
On the bigger screen it was easier to see the pages. It was a real mishmash of different things. I got the impression that Elsie had simply handed over the notebook to the patients and told them to write whatever they wanted.
The first few pages were accounts of a bomb that had fallen at the air base at Biggin Hill. I hadn’t known about that before Finn mentioned it the other day, though I’d known it had been an RAF base before it became the busy airport for private jets that it was now. I zoomed in on a message and started to read, and once I’d got used to the old-fashioned handwriting, I was quickly engrossed.
The soldiers – airmen I guessed they would be called – had written all about how they’d been having their dinner when the bomb had dropped, with no warning. One of them had written a detailed description of what he’d eaten, which made me smile. Others listed the people who had died – lots of them women, to my surprise. One of them drew pictures of the friends they’d lost, which I found very moving. Another wrote a vivid account of dragging survivors from the rubble, rescuing them in daring and dramatic fashion. It was so thrilling, I found myself biting my lip as I read.
‘Interesting, is it?’ Vanessa said. I looked up from the screen and saw her watching me curiously.
Oddly, I found I was reluctant to share what I was reading. I felt a bit territorial over this book already. So instead I just shrugged. ‘Local history,’ I said.
‘Is that what that Finn’s doing?’
‘Sort of.’
Vanessa nodded. ‘He’s cute.’
I looked at her. She was younger than me and she was related to Blessing in some way – a niece, or a cousin, or something. I couldn’t remember the details. Vanessa was a student and working at Tall Trees on the side. She liked covering reception because she could do her uni work at the same time. I admired her work ethic, and I envied her stunning good looks, and I suddenly felt as territorial over Finn as I did over the book.
‘Cute?’ I said, ultra-casually. ‘You think?’
‘Hell yeah.’ Vanessa glanced at me sideways, pouting her lips like she was getting ready to snog an invisible Finn. ‘I love geeky men like that. They’re like Clark Kent.’
I laughed. ‘He’s a history teacher, Vanessa, not Superman.’
She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘We’ll see.’
