‘Oh bugger, that’s me,’ Finn said, looking alarmed. ‘I’d totally forgotten. I have to go.’
‘See you later?’ I tried not to sound too hopeful and needy because Franklin was still there, and I was embarrassed to bare my feelings when he was listening.
‘Definitely,’ said Finn. ‘Just let me know when you need help with the painting.’
That was much later than I’d meant – days and days away, rather than hours or minutes. But I just nodded. ‘Will do.’
Looking faintly harassed, Finn hurried off with Franklin, and I started putting away my sketches. Then I had an idea. Perhaps it was ridiculous but I’d never know if I didn’t try.
I left the staffroom and walked quickly down the halls to Val’s room, hoping she’d be there and not at Finn’s talk. She was there, sitting at her little table, much to my relief.
‘Stephanie, hello,’ she said, giving me one of her rare smiles. ‘I’ve just been writing in your book.’
‘Are you done?’
‘Just this minute.’
I bit my lip. ‘If you’re sure you’re finished, then could I take it? But only if you’re sure.’
‘Of course.’ She gave me a sly look. ‘Are you writing your own message?’
I thought about fibbing and making up a reason why I needed it, but my mind was blank.
‘Sort of,’ I said.
‘Here you are.’ She handed me the book and the pens. ‘I hope he replies.’
My cheeks flamed. ‘What? Who? What?’ I stammered.
‘Your young man with the floppy hair. Is that who you’re writing to?’
I looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘You’re too sharp for your own good, Valerie,’ I said. Then I sighed. ‘I’m thinking about it.’
‘Life is too short to spend it thinking,’ Val said. ‘Just do it, Stephanie. Trust me.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
She pulled the other chair out from under the table and patted the seat. ‘Sit down and write it now.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes, here. Or you’ll go away and stew about it, and it’ll never get done. Come on.’
I sat down and opened one of the pages near the back. I’d been thinking about what to write, but now, with Val’s eyes on me, I couldn’t remember what I wanted to say.
‘What should I write?’
Val got up – quite slowly and painfully. I watched her with a carer’s eye, making sure she didn’t pull a muscle. When she was upright, she said: ‘I’m just off to the loo.’
I thought she probably didn’t need the loo at all, but she was giving me some privacy, bless her.
I picked up a pen. “Just do it,” Val had said.
Trying not to overthink it, I drew a little series of pictures. First of all, I drew Harry Potter, with his floppy hair and scar. I hoped Finn would know that meant the message was for him. Then I drew some vine leaves with grapes – meaning The Vine. That was self-explanatory. I added a clock showing 7 p.m., and then a calendar with Thursday’s date circled. And finally, not wanting to sign my name, I paused. When Max and I were little we’d write notes to each other like this. He would draw a volume dial with the sound turned all the way up – to Max – for him. And I’d draw a little old-fashioned television with an S on the screen. S-TV – Stevie. It was naff, but it was all I had. I quickly sketched it out.
‘All done?’ Val emerged from her bathroom, looking serene.
