I swallow hard, scanning his words. ‘I can’t.’
She takes my hand, holding it firmly in hers. ‘You can. You need to recharge, reset.’
‘Iamresetting,’ I say, holding the letter tightly. ‘I need something to focus on, and this is it.’ Josie pulls at her ear and takes a deep breath.
My shoulders drop. I fold the letter and lean back and close my eyes with a groan. ‘And after that email, and zero response…’ I lean my head back and close my eyes.
‘I don’t think you’re losing it,’ Josie says, ‘but I think you’ve just had a major life U-turn and I know that this all seems like it could be the answer. And I know you find taking time off hard…’
‘I don’t find it hard.’
She raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Mate, you wrote four essays during the summer holidays before you even started college.’
‘OK, fair point. But I can’t just sit around waiting for a job to fall in my lap. I need some income. My savings will only last another month or so. This story is my best shot.’
‘What you need is a spa day. And I just happen to have free tickets for two treatments and an afternoon tea with a bottle of Prosecco included. Let me see if I can book us in, eh?’
‘Don’t you have work?’
She tucks her red hair behind her ear. ‘Thisiswork.’
I hesitate, look to the wall, the frail and yet heavy weight of Michael’s words.
‘You promise there’ll be Prosecco and a foot rub?’
‘Well, it’ll probs be cheap cava, but yes to the foot rubs.’
‘And you promise not to post pictures of my feet?’ She’s shaking her head, already swiping her phone screen ‘There’s nothing wrong with your feet.’
‘My second toe is almost twice the length of the others.’
‘If your second toe dominates, it means that you will always prosper and life will give you answers when you’re ready to hear them.’
I snort. ‘It does not!’
She flashes a white smile then holds up her screen. ‘Done. Go and get changed. Those muscles aren’t going to unlock by themselves.’
My phone starts to ring, but I ignore it. I know it’ll be Mum and the last thing I need right now is a visit to my parent’s house where I’ll hear about my perfect sister and her perfect kids and have to listen to all the excuses that’ll be put in place to ignore the fact that my brother is a total fuckwit, not to mention the ‘have you heard from Ryan? Do you have a new job?’ questions.
‘Give me five minutes.’
8
MICHAEL
17 May 1985
I’m almost done. The wall is now magnolia.Magnolia.The colour of new beginnings and optimism… It feels about right for around here. Optimism is dulled white rolled over woodchip.
‘Good job, Mike,’ Jim says beneath his thick greying moustache, nodding to the wall as I wrap the roller in cling film. I’m done for the day, my fingers itching to draw. While this is not the job I want, there is something happening. Urgency to get back to the fledgling portfolio sketches that have kept me up late into the night, a spark, like. I straighten, the crack in my back reminding me that I’m not in my twenties any more. ‘We’ll make a painter of you yet. Fancy a swift one down the Cap and Ale?’
‘I’ll give it a miss, mate. I’ve got to get back.’
I strip out of my paper overall and reach for my jacket, hands splattered in paint.
‘Mike?’
I turn. ‘Yeah?’
