When I took off the dust sheets, I felt a pinch in my chest, but as I sorted through the drawers to retrieve the tools and materials I needed, my overriding emotion was excitement. I was preparing to do something that once came as easily to me as breathing and suddenly I couldn’t wait to get started.
What Finn said yesterday about my parents knowing how much I appreciated them helped. I’ve since remembered a few more details about the day we set up my work in thestudio. At the end of that evening, after Michael had gone home, I went back in to look at the space and was racked with worry about how to tell my parents I didn’t plan to use it for long, that I wouldn’t be staying past the end of summer. My mum walked in behind me and she spotted the shine in my eyes and gave me a hug. I breathed ‘Thank you’ into her neck, and in that moment, I know that my mother and I were wrapped in love.
I feel more at peace, remembering this.
‘How have you made that already?’ Finn asks with astonishment, staring at the basic skull on the table.
This morning, I built an armature, which is like a metal skeleton made out of iron piping and aluminium wire that holds the clay in place. Then I packed clay into the metal to fill it out. Having my hands surrounded by the soft material again made me feel as though I’d come home after a long time away. Now I’m ready to start sculpting in detail.
‘What can I say? I guess you inspired me.’
He looks touched.
‘Take a seat.’
He pulls up a chair next to the small table that’s pushed against the back wall. There’s only just enough space for furniture in here. The kitchen is the one room upstairs that doesn’t have carpet, so it’s the best place to work.
I’d love to be doing this downstairs in the kitchen-diner, but the apartment has barely had a week free since the Easter holidays.
The family I’ve got staying currently leave the TV onallthe time. It’s like living with Michael only I can’t ask them to turn it down.
Not that my brother ever listened to me on that front anyway.
I tell this to Finn conversationally as I get stuck in, which prompts him to ask after Michael.
‘How’s he doing these days?’
‘He’s well. He was funny on Sunday when he saw you kissing me goodbye.’
‘Yeah, he really doesn’t like me, does he?’
‘He’s always taken a while to warm up to new people. Except for Shirley. He loved her from the moment he met her.’
‘Is she still working for him?’
‘Yep! Predicted that wrong, didn’t I? They get along like a house on fire – and luckilyhaven’tset the house on fire or done any other lasting damage, as far as I know. She’s actually really great at encouraging him to look after himself. Much better than I thought she’d be. And she doesn’t just stick to her working hours, either. Sometimes I’ll pop round for a cuppa and she’ll still be there, sprawled out on the sofa, watching the latest gory crime thriller they’ve got stuck into. They look so annoyed at the interruption that I never stay for long. But it’s good. She’s nice to Timothy too – Michael’s friend.’
‘Has Michael ever had a girlfriend?’
‘He’s had a couple. He stayed friends with his last girlfriend, but they fell out because she kissed someone else at a club dance night. Michael refused to go back to his club for ages. Dad eventually persuaded him not to cut off his nose to spite his face, so he started going again.’
‘When you say “club” …?’ Finn says with confusion.
‘Not aclubclub,’ I reply with a smile. ‘He goes to a socialclub for people with learning disabilities.’ He stopped during the year after our parents died so I was relieved when he recently started attending again. ‘It’s where he met Timothy.’
I’ve been working away as we’ve been speaking and Finn’s face is beginning to take shape beneath my hands. It feels unbelievably good to be sculpting again.
‘I’m loving this,’ I say quietly after toiling away in silence for a while. I’ve been pinching off small pieces of clay and smoothing them onto mini Finn’s cheekbones to build them up.
That feeling I had earlier, when I was packing the clay into the armature to fill it out, that feeling of coming home, is even more concentrated now I’m in full sculpting mode. Small waves of euphoria keep passing through me.
‘I’m enjoying watching you,’ he says. ‘The look of concentration on your face is intense.’
I meet his eyes. ‘I’m never going to be able to do your eyelashes justice.’
He lets out a low laugh.
‘Or your hair. I like it shorter, by the way.’
