Scene 1 / 11
Morning
The first bus passed through Bracken Bay while the baker was still putting his sign out on the pavement. The wind off the bay knocked it flat before he could get back inside. He stood it up again, braced a foot against the base and stayed there, coffee in hand, guarding the news that the rolls were fresh.
The main street ran parallel to the water for a few blocks before branching into narrower roads that climbed between the houses. Some windows looked out across the bay. From others, you had to lean out and agree that a sliver of blue between a garage and someone else's washing counted too.
That was Noah Ward's view.
He had one leg in his trousers when he heard the bus. He watched it disappear beyond the bakery, then tried to get dressed and reach for his bag at the same time. His knee hit the desk.
‘Everything all right?’ his mother called from downstairs.
‘Yes.’
He pushed the chair aside with his foot.
‘Desk's fine too.’
Usually she would have said something back. This time he only heard the kitchen tap running.
He put an exercise book in his bag, took it out again and checked the sheet underneath. Permission to borrow a school camera. The signature line was still blank.
He folded the form in half and went downstairs.
Clara stood at the sink. She already had her work jacket on, but had pushed the sleeves up to her elbows. She was rinsing a lunch container, although three clean ones stood on the draining board.
There was bread on the table. Beside it, under the sugar bowl, Noah spotted a thin sheet with the school's name at the top. His other permission form, for a trip. Signed a week ago, still waiting for him to take it.
He pulled it out from under the bowl.
‘I've been looking for this.’
‘Not here, you haven't.’
‘I wanted to rule out the less obvious places first.’
His mother turned off the tap. When she looked round, there was a brief smile on her lips.
Noah put bread in the toaster and laid the new form on the table.
‘This one too.’
Clara read the heading.
‘Another trip?’
‘A camera. For class.’
‘The one you told me about?’
He nodded.
‘We can take it home for the weekend. Apparently, if I don't break it, they'll even let me have it again.’
Footsteps crossed the floor upstairs. His mother moved the wet container away from the edge of the worktop. Noah flattened a folded corner of the form.
Daniel came into the kitchen, adjusting his watch strap. He opened a cupboard, took out a mug, then looked at the toaster.
‘That yours?’
‘Yes.’
‘You'll burn it.’
Noah pressed the button. The toast popped up, darker on one side. His father poured himself coffee and leaned against the worktop. For a while, the only sound was a spoon tapping the rim of the mug.
‘I'll be back late,’ Daniel said.
Clara nodded.
They had been standing in this kitchen last night too. Noah had heard them upstairs, even with his door shut. Now his father took a few mouthfuls of coffee, left the mug in the sink and went out. The front door lock stuck; you had to pull the handle upwards.
Clara reached into her jacket pocket for a pen.
‘What are you going to photograph?’
Noah looked up from his plate.
‘Not sure yet. We're supposed to choose something from around here.’
‘Bracken Bay?’
‘Mm.’
She signed the form.
‘Good. I can't afford to send you on a rainforest expedition.’
‘I could start with whatever's growing behind the garage.’
‘Leave that alone. It might be holding the fence up.’
She slid the paper towards him. He accepted it solemnly and put it in his bag with the trip form.
His mother opened the cupboard under the sink. The door sagged on one hinge.
Noah set down his plate.
‘I can tighten that.’
‘After school. Eat now.’
He held the door while she took out a bag, then closed it and sat down.
Clara looked into the container that already held her sandwiches, then at the one she had just washed. She put the empty one back on the draining board.
Noah turned his toast over, pale side up.
‘Better,’ she said.
‘I know what I'm doing.’
‘I can see that.’
He ate while she gathered her things. She slipped her phone into her bag, checked a pocket and went back for her keys. Noah watched the chipped edge of his plate.
‘Mum?’
She stopped beside the table.
He looked up. Her hand rested on the back of his chair.
‘What time will you be home?’
‘Should be before you.’
He nodded.
Clara waited another moment, then glanced at the clock.
‘Next bus in three minutes.’
Noah got up so quickly that his chair scraped across the floor. He pushed the rest of the toast into his mouth, slung his bag over one shoulder and headed for the hall.
‘The camera,’ she said behind him.
He came back.
‘What?’
‘You'll show me the pictures.’
He swallowed.
‘If they're any good.’
‘The others too.’
Outside, the wind caught his jacket. He ran downhill towards the bus stop, skirting a puddle he had thought was shallower yesterday. The baker was still beside his sign. A stone now weighed down its base.
When he saw Noah running, he pointed at the approaching bus as though the boy might have missed it.
Noah raised a hand.
He reached the stop as the doors opened. Only when he was sitting down did he check his bag. Both forms were there. He took out an exercise book.
Scene 2 / 11
The gate
After school, Ms Bell read the form and opened the cupboard behind her.
‘Monday morning,’ she said, putting a bag in front of Noah. ‘With the charger.’
‘Sure.’
He took out the camera, ran his thumb along the worn strap and switched on the screen. There was a cable and a charger in the small pocket. He zipped it up before slinging the bag over his shoulder.
Only a few students were still outside. Someone was holding a door open with one foot while a friend searched his backpack. A whistle sounded from the playing field.
Noah went round behind the sports hall. On his way to the bus stop, he usually cut through the centre's courtyard, between the low building and the fence. Benches stood against the wall, with a few planters farther along, their shrubs all leaning the same way.
Someone raised a hand by the side gate.
Noah looked behind him. Two boys were heading down towards the playing field. One waved back without even slowing down.
The girl by the fence kept waving.
The sun came out from behind the clouds. Noah narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, trying to make out her face. He could see a pale sleeve, dark hair and something large pressed against her side.
He raised a hand.
The girl straightened up at once beside the gate.
He smiled at her and kept walking.
‘Hey!’
He stopped.
She waved again, beckoning him over this time.
Noah pointed at his own chest.
She nodded so vigorously that he went over to the fence.
He still didn't recognise her up close.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘Hi. Can you let me in?’
He looked at the gate. There was a handle on his side. On the other, only the hole where it should have been.
He pressed the handle down and pulled the gate towards him.
The girl came through sideways, keeping a large portfolio clear of the fence. Once she was in the courtyard, she shifted it to her other hand.
‘Thanks.’
‘Couldn't you get in?’
She looked back at the gate, then at him.
Noah looked down.
‘Right. Stupid question.’
A smile appeared on her face.
‘I thought you'd work it out.’
‘I thought we knew each other.’
‘Is that why you waved back?’
‘I couldn't see your face from there.’
The girl looked at the spot where he'd been standing.
‘I was waving at everyone.’
‘Good, because I was trying to place you.’
He adjusted the bag strap. The girl gave a snort of laughter and brushed away the hair the wind had blown against her mouth.
‘Maya,’ she said.
‘Noah.’
‘At least we know now.’
She rested the portfolio against her thigh and took a folded piece of paper from her pocket. One corner caught under the elastic band around the portfolio. Maya eased it free, smoothed the paper and looked at the building.
‘Do you know where you hand in your work?’
Noah glanced at the paper. Beneath the centre's name was a drawing of a pencil and a few lines of small print.
‘Someone inside will probably know. The entrance is round the other side.’
Maya looked up.
‘The other side.’
He pointed to the corner of the building.
She looked that way for a moment, then folded the paper.
‘All right, then.’
They walked along the wall. Noah moved to the edge of the path to let her pass with the portfolio between a bench and a planter.
‘Do you draw?’ he asked.
‘I'm trying to get into the classes.’
‘Here?’
Maya looked at him.
‘Today, mostly just trying to get in here.’
He smiled.
Round the corner, they saw an open door. A woman on a ladder was putting a notice up on a board, holding the tape between her teeth. When she saw them, she took it out of her mouth.
‘Brought your work?’
Maya nodded.
‘I'll be with you in a moment. Go on in. There's a table on the left.’
She went back to the notice. Maya looked at the portfolio.
Noah stopped at the step.
‘Have you brought something too?’ she asked, pointing at his bag.
‘A camera. From school.’
‘Do you take photos?’
‘I'm learning. I've borrowed it for the weekend.’
Maya held the portfolio with her knee and adjusted the elastic band at the bottom corner.
The woman came down the ladder. She moved it against the wall and went inside the centre.
Noah looked towards the street.
‘I'd better run for my bus.’
‘Sure. Thanks for opening the gate.’
She picked up the portfolio, but turned back at the door.
‘Noah?’
He stopped.
‘You can wave back next time too.’
‘Might not recognise you from a distance.’
‘I'll wave for longer, then.’
He smiled and headed for the street.
Scene 3 / 11
The first photograph
Clara was sitting at the table with her feet on another chair. When Noah came into the kitchen, she slipped a finger between the pages of her book.
‘Did you get it?’
He put the bag on the table and unzipped it.
His mother set her book aside. She took the camera in both hands, peered into the lens, then turned it round to look at the screen.
‘Serious bit of kit.’
‘Just need a photographer now.’
She looked at him over the camera.
‘Maybe one will turn up.’
She handed it back and moved her feet so he could sit down. Noah laid the camera on the bag. A lawnmower droned through the partly open window; it stopped, then started up again.
‘Have you eaten?’ she asked.
‘At school.’
‘So, no.’
She pointed to the bread on the worktop. Noah got up, took out a plate and opened the cutlery drawer. He rummaged beneath the knives.
‘Wasn't there a screwdriver in here?’
‘The bottom drawer. Careful, though, it…’
The drawer came right out into his hands. He braced it against his stomach.
‘Comes all the way out,’ Clara finished.
‘I noticed.’
She got up and took the screwdriver from it while Noah slid it back into place. He found a dry tea towel by the sink, laid it on the floor and knelt in front of the cupboard.
The door sagged as he opened it. He tried to prop it up with his knee, but the tip of the screwdriver slipped off the screw.
‘Can you hold this?’
His mother knelt beside him, sitting back on her heels. She took the bottom edge of the door and lifted it a little.
‘Like that?’
‘A bit more. There.’
He tightened the hinge. Clara held it steady until he drew his hand away.
‘You can let go.’
He closed the cupboard. The top corner cleared the worktop.
His mother opened the door, looked inside and closed it by the handle.
‘At last.’
Noah picked up the tea towel. As they got to their feet, Clara rested a hand on his shoulder and stayed bent over for a moment.
‘My legs have gone numb.’
He waited until she straightened, then handed her the screwdriver.
‘I'll leave the drawer till tomorrow.’
‘Sensible.’
She put it on the worktop.
Noah washed his hands and made a sandwich. He ate standing up, glancing at the camera.
‘Taken any photos yet?’ his mother asked.
‘Not yet.’
Clara reached for her book.
Noah sat down opposite her. He put his plate down, took off the lens cap and switched on the camera. The lettering on the screen was small; he brought it closer to his face and moved his thumb over the buttons. Eventually, he raised the viewfinder to his eye.
His mother was sitting side-on to the window. The light fell on her cheek and the hand resting on her book. Behind her was a pale patch of wall.
She noticed the lens. She smoothed her hair at her temple, then tugged at her jumper sleeve.
‘Not today, Noah.’
He lowered the camera.
‘Okay.’
She watched him a moment longer. Noah put the lens cap beside the bag and reached for his sandwich.
Someone in the street called to a dog. His mother scanned the page, found her place and settled back in her chair.
‘I'll go down to the water,’ Noah said.
‘Now?’
He nodded with his mouth full.
‘Take your jacket. It'll be cooler this evening.’
He left his school bag in the hall. He slung the camera bag over his shoulder and only zipped his jacket up at the bottom of the street.
Someone was sweeping the pavement outside the bakery. The stone lay against the wall beside the folded sign. Noah turned into the passage between the buildings. With every step, more of the water came into view, until he emerged onto the path along the shore.
The wind stirred his bag strap. Across the bay, sunlight caught the windows of the houses; one flashed so brightly that he had to look away. Farther out, on a darker stretch of water, a small boat rocked.
Noah stopped and took out the camera.
The first thing he saw through the viewfinder was the railing. He moved a step sideways. Now a lamppost ran through the middle of the picture.
He lowered the camera from his eye.
Something wet touched his hand.
A dog stood beside his bag. It had pale eyebrows, a dark back and the tip of one ear folded back. It was sniffing the pocket where Noah had put the lens cap.
‘Nothing in there,’ Noah said.
‘He likes to check.’
The man sitting on a low wall raised the hand holding the lead. With the other, he shaded his eyes from the sun.
Noah held out his empty hand to the dog. It sniffed his fingers, sneezed and turned back to its owner.
‘Sorry,’ the man said.
‘Think he was hoping for a sandwich.’
‘He just likes meeting people.’
The man patted his knee. The dog came back and sat by his shoes.
Noah glanced at the camera.
‘Could I take a photo of you both?’
The man looked at him, then at the dog.
‘Us?’
‘Mm. For school. We're supposed to photograph something from around here.’
‘All right. Though I don't know if he'll sit still.’
He stroked the dog between the ears and nodded towards the camera.
Noah backed a little way along the path. The man straightened his back and rested his hands together on his knees. He looked straight into the lens.
Through the viewfinder, Noah could only see him from the waist up. He turned the ring, lost focus and tried again. He had to take another step back.
‘Just a second.’
‘No rush.’
The dog lay down by the man's shoes. He reached down to straighten its folded ear. When he took his hand away, the ear folded back again.
He left it and turned to look out at the water.
Noah crouched. The low wall fitted into the frame, an elbow resting on a knee and the dog with its muzzle pointed towards the bay. The man was looking the same way.
He pressed the shutter.
He lowered the camera and looked at the screen. The line of the water sloped slightly to the right. He zoomed in on the photograph, moved across it with his thumb, then returned to the full image.
‘Did it come out?’ the man asked.
Noah went over and handed him the camera with the screen facing up.
The man bent his head. He held the lead between his knees and shaded the screen with his hand.
‘Oh, you even got the ear.’
The dog lifted its head. The man scratched it under the collar and handed the camera back to Noah.
‘Thanks,’ the boy said.
He put the camera in the bag. As he walked away, he heard the man ask the dog if they were going home.
The dog stretched out its front paws and rested its head on them.
‘All right. Five minutes,’ the man said.
Scene 4 / 11
Maya’s evening
Maya pulled her chair back from the desk. Pearl opened one eye.
‘I wanted to sit there too.’
The cat tucked her nose beneath a paw.
Maya slipped her hands beneath Pearl and sat down with her on her lap. They both shifted about for a moment, until Pearl rested her head against Maya’s forearm.
‘Comfortable?’
She reached for a pencil with her free hand.
A small card with a photograph of a flower lay beside the lamp. Maya held down its curled corner. The pink petals overlapped, darker at their base, almost transparent at the edges. The lowest twisted slightly to one side. Her eyes kept returning to it.
In her drawing, it had come out too even. The little fold she liked so much had disappeared.
Maya tilted her head and went back to the sketch. Pearl purred by her elbow; when the cat moved a paw, she held the paper steady with her wrist.
‘Just a moment.’
She adjusted the fold and held the page at arm’s length.
This time the petal seemed to lift a little. She tilted the drawing towards the lamp. She could still see it.
‘There.’
She smiled at the page. Then she pulled it close again; she wanted to try the next one before someone called her.
Pearl raised her head.
‘Look at that.’
The cat yawned so widely that Maya burst out laughing.
‘That bad?’
Her mother called from downstairs.
‘Maya! Dinner!’
‘Coming!’
She finished the line and put down her pencil. Pearl jumped off her lap as she pushed her chair back. In the doorway, Maya looked back at the desk.
The kitchen smelt of roast potatoes. Her mother set the dish on a trivet and took off her oven gloves.
‘Plates,’ she said, pointing to the cupboard.
Maya took them out and set them on the table, with cutlery beside them. She sat by the window. Beyond the glass, the garden was slowly disappearing into the dusk.
Her mother served her some potatoes.
‘Enough?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
Maya tucked her hair behind her ear. There was a grey streak on her thumb; she rubbed at it with a finger under the table.
‘I handed my drawings in at the centre today.’
Her mother reached for her own plate.
‘And what are you going to get out of that?’
‘For now, I just want a place on the course.’
‘I’m serious. What are you going to get out of it?’
Maya stopped rubbing her thumb.
‘I’ll be learning. I want to get better at drawing.’
‘Then learn something you can make a living from. A trade, a proper job. You can’t spend your whole life bent over a piece of paper.’
‘They’re after-school classes.’
‘And afterwards? Do you ever think about what comes afterwards?’
‘I do, but right now I’m telling you about…’
‘Your drawings. I heard you. You’re always keen when it comes to those.’
Maya felt her cheeks grow hot. She looked at her mother, who was cutting a potato.
‘I do my schoolwork. I’m not falling behind.’
‘Good. Stick to that.’
Maya tightened her fingers around her fork.
‘Aren’t you even going to ask which drawings I handed in?’
Her mother looked up.
‘What difference does that make?’
Maya opened her mouth. For a moment they looked at each other across the table.
‘It makes a difference to me.’
The last word came out more quietly than she had wanted. She cleared her throat.
‘I like it. I want to try.’
‘You can like it all you want. Life isn’t about doing only what you feel like.’
‘I didn’t say only…’
‘Then stop arguing with me.’
Maya put down her fork. It struck the rim of her plate.
‘Don’t throw your cutlery about.’
‘I’m not.’
‘And don’t speak to me in that tone.’
Her heart was beating so hard that for a moment she could hear it in her ears. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She wanted to push back her chair and leave.
Her mother went back to eating.
‘I’m telling you for your own good. Choose something sensible instead of regretting it later.’
Maya looked at her plate. Her throat felt tight.
‘I don’t even know if they’ll give me a place yet,’ she said. ‘I only wanted to tell you I’d taken my work in.’
‘Well, now you’ve told me. Eat before it gets cold.’
She cut a potato in half. A piece slipped off her fork. She left it at the edge of the plate and picked up a smaller one.
Her mother asked whether there was any bread left for the morning.
‘In the cupboard,’ Maya said.
She did not mention the classes again for the rest of dinner.
When she carried her plate to the sink, her mother spoke from behind her.
‘Rinse it now. Don’t leave everything for me.’
Maya turned on the tap. She put washing-up liquid on the sponge and washed the plate. She wiped the wet mark off the worktop too.
On the stairs, Pearl rubbed against her leg. Maya crouched and slipped her fingers under the cat’s warm chin. Pearl stretched her neck, pressing into her hand.
‘I know,’ she whispered.
She stayed like that until she heard a chair move in the kitchen.
The lamp was still on in her room. Maya pulled the door almost closed and sat at the desk.
The lower petal still lifted a little from the page. Maya ran a finger over the blank space beside it and reached for her pencil.
In the photograph, the next petal disappeared partly beneath the one she had already drawn. She began with its edge. The line came out heavy, too dark.
Choose something sensible.
She rubbed out the line. A broad grey smudge remained on the paper.
‘Brilliant,’ she whispered.
She put down the rubber and rested her hands in her lap. Her eyes began to sting. She stared at the drawing until the petals blurred before her.
Water ran downstairs.
Maya wiped her cheek on her sleeve. She covered the grey smudge with her hand and looked at the lower petal.
Its edge still lifted a little.
She reached for a clean sheet of paper and laid it over the drawing.
Scene 5 / 11
Returning the camera
On Monday Noah came to the classroom before his first lesson. Ms Bell was sitting at the computer. He set the camera bag on her desk.
‘Morning. I’ve brought the camera back.’
‘Morning. The charger too?’
‘In the small pocket.’
He unzipped the bag. Ms Bell took out the camera, removed the memory card and slipped it into the reader. Noah set his schoolbag beside the chair and sat down.
Thumbnails appeared on the screen.
‘The one with the dog,’ he said, pointing.
Ms Bell opened the photograph full-screen.
On the camera’s small display, Noah had needed to zoom in to see the dog. Here he could make out its pale eyebrows straight away, and the tip of its ear folded back. Its muzzle pointed towards the water. Above the low wall, the man was looking the same way.
Noah drew his chair closer to the desk.
‘Did you ask them to look at the water?’ Ms Bell asked.
‘No. I took too long setting up the camera.’
She smiled and reached for the mouse.
‘Could I print this one?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’
Ms Bell opened the print preview. Noah rested his forearms on the edge of the desk. A white border appeared around the photograph on the screen.
‘This size?’
He nodded.
The printer by the window drew in a sheet of paper.
‘All your photographs are in your folder now,’ Ms Bell said.
‘Thanks.’
The print slowly emerged onto the tray. Noah waited for the printer to release it, then lifted the sheet by its white edge.
The man’s face was turned towards the water. The dog lay by his shoes.
Noah took the notebook from his bag. He opened it, slipped the photograph between the pages and closed the cover.
Scene 6 / 11
Meeting again
A few days later Maya was still at the table, although the others were already putting their pencils away. A red Elmo mug stood in front of her. She tilted her head, comparing its handle with the one on her page.
‘You can finish at home,’ the tutor said. ‘Take your mugs with you and bring them back next time.’
Maya added a short line beside the shadow and put down her pencil. She put the mug in her bag and slipped the drawing into her folder, taking care not to catch the corner on the elastic.
At the door she let two girls pass, still talking to each other. One glanced back and said goodbye. Maya answered, but the girl had already turned back to her friend.
In the courtyard, the wind lifted the hair from the back of her neck. She reached for her jacket zip.
‘Hi, Maya.’
Noah was coming from the sports hall. He raised a hand.
Maya narrowed her eyes a little.
‘Do we know each other?’
He slowed, then smiled.
‘I can wave again.’
She laughed and lowered her chin. Noah stopped beside the bench.
‘How did it go with the classes?’
‘They accepted me. Today was my first one.’
‘How was it?’
‘Good, I think.’
She ran her thumb along the folder’s elastic.
‘What did you draw?’
‘A mug.’
She glanced at the folder.
‘Just an ordinary red one.’
Noah rested a hand on his backpack strap and waited. Maya looked towards the open classroom door.
‘I thought it would be easy,’ she added. ‘I spent ages on the shadow under the handle. At first it looked as though I’d made a hole in it.’
With a finger of her free hand, she traced a small curve in the air.
‘Once I fixed the edge, it started to look like something.’
Noah glanced at the folder.
‘Have you got it with you?’
‘Yes, but… I haven’t finished it yet.’
She let go of the elastic before she could pull it away.
‘Sure.’
Someone else came out of the centre. They both stepped clear of the doorway, and Noah looked towards the street.
‘Are you going to the bus stop?’ Maya asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m going that way for a bit.’
They set off along the building. The folder knocked against her thigh; she moved it under her other arm.
‘What about you? Did you get to take any pictures with that camera?’
‘A few. I gave it back on Monday.’
‘Was it still working?’
He looked at her.
‘Even the charger made it back.’
Maya smiled to herself.
At the gate Noah pressed the handle and held it open. This time she walked straight through.
‘I took a photograph of a man and his dog,’ he said, falling into step beside her on the pavement. ‘Down by the water.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘No.’
‘And you just took his picture?’
‘I asked first.’
‘I think I’d have just photographed the water.’
‘I thought about that too.’
She looked at him.
‘You did ask, though.’
‘Yeah.’
Two older women had stopped ahead of them on the pavement, carrying shopping bags. Maya and Noah went past in single file. Further on they walked side by side again.
‘Did it come out well?’ she asked.
‘I printed one.’
‘The one of them?’
He nodded.
‘They’re both looking at the water. The dog’s lying by his shoes.’
At the next junction she slowed.
‘I turn here.’
‘Okay. See you.’
She took a step towards the side street.
‘When you’ve got it with you, will you show me the photograph?’
‘Sure.’
‘The one with the dog.’
‘I guessed.’
She smiled and turned into the side street.
Scene 7 / 11
At the Table
‘Haven’t you had enough time to clean this place up?’
Noah stopped in the hall with his hand on his jacket zip. The smell of roast chicken came from the kitchen.
‘I came home from work and started dinner straight away,’ Clara said. ‘I’ll clear it up in a minute.’
‘It’s always in a minute with you. Then you’ll forget again.’
Her bag stood beside the coat rack. One strap had fallen to the floor. Noah lifted it out of the way to take off his shoes, then hung up his jacket and went into the kitchen.
His father was sitting at the table. In front of him lay his knife and fork and his phone, face down. Clara was scraping peelings from the chopping board into a bowl. A saucepan stood beside the sink, and the sweater she wore to work hung over the back of a chair.
‘Oh, you’re home.’ She looked at her son. ‘We’re just about to eat. How was school?’
‘Good.’
He set his backpack beside his chair. His mother rinsed the board and slid it beside the sink.
‘Much homework?’
‘A bit of maths.’
Clara dried her hands on a tea towel. Noah unzipped his backpack before she had time to turn round.
‘I’ve got a photo.’
‘From that camera?’
He nodded.
‘Bell printed it for me. Just one so far.’
‘Let me see.’
He took out the notebook and found the photograph tucked between its pages. Holding it by the white border, he handed it to his mother.
Clara went over to the window. She tilted the print to keep the light from reflecting off it and said nothing for a moment.
Noah stood beside her.
‘The water came out a bit crooked,’ he said.
‘I can see.’
He looked at the photograph. Now it seemed he had tilted the camera even more than he remembered.
‘You can fix that on the computer, only I didn’t know…’
‘Noah, I like it.’
He looked up.
His mother was studying the dog lying at the man’s feet.
‘He doesn’t look as though he was in any hurry.’
‘None at all. He wouldn’t get up afterwards.’
She smiled.
‘I know how he feels.’
‘So did his owner. He gave him another five minutes.’
Clara laughed softly. Noah moved closer and pointed to the folded ear.
‘He tried to straighten it. It kept folding back.’
‘I’m glad it did. You don’t have to fix everything.’
She moved her finger over the bright stretch of water.
‘Look at the light you caught.’
She took in the whole photograph again. The line between her eyebrows smoothed away. Noah was just opening his mouth to tell her how long it had taken him to set up the camera when his father held out a hand.
‘Let me have a look.’
Clara handed him the photograph.
Daniel glanced at it, settling back in his chair. Then he looked at his son. One corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
‘Weren’t there any girls there?’
Noah lowered the hand he had been using to point out the dog’s ear.
‘It was an assignment for class.’
‘All right, all right.’
His father laid the photograph on the table and slid it towards him.
‘You could kick a ball around once in a while.’
Noah looked at the print’s white border. He could have said that doing one didn’t stop him doing the other. Or that the assignment hadn’t been to take pictures of girls. For a moment he worked out both replies, but Daniel had already turned towards the oven.
‘Are we eating, then?’
‘Just serving it,’ Clara said.
She reached for the oven gloves. Noah put the photograph back in the notebook and zipped up his backpack.
His mother set the dish on a trivet and took the lid off the saucepan. As she served him potatoes, she asked whether that was enough. He nodded. He wanted to go back to their conversation by the window, but he didn’t know where to begin.
She sat down only when both their plates were full.
Daniel cut off a piece of meat, chewed it and reached for his glass.
‘Dry again.’
Clara looked at his plate.
‘There’s gravy. Shall I pass it?’
‘Gravy won’t help if you leave it in the oven too long.’
She reached towards the dish but drew her hand back before she touched the handle.
Noah picked up some potato with his fork. He was hungry; only a moment ago he had been thinking about seconds. Now he chewed slowly, waiting for his father to say something else.
For a while they ate in silence. Clara pushed the bowl of salad towards her son. He took some, though he no longer wanted it.
Daniel moved the tea towel she had left at the edge of the table away from his elbow.
‘Does this have to be here too?’
‘I forgot.’
She took it and stood up to hang it by the sink.
‘Sit down, Mum,’ Noah said.
‘Just a second.’
On her way back, she moved the saucepan farther from the edge of the worktop. His father watched her.
‘If you put things back where they belonged straight away, there wouldn’t be a problem.’
Clara sat down. She cut a potato, holding it with her fork.
‘I wanted you both to have a hot dinner.’
‘And that means you can’t clean up after yourself?’
Noah looked at the board beside the sink. At the empty bowl that had held the peelings. He hadn’t even noticed his mother washing it.
‘She’s already cleaned up.’
Daniel looked at him.
‘I’m talking to your mother.’
Clara rested a hand beside her plate.
‘Eat, Noah. It’ll get cold.’
She still spoke in that calm voice. As though his dinner was all she was worried about.
He put down his fork.
‘Why do you let him do this?’
His mother went still.
‘Noah…’
‘What? You can hear how he talks to you.’
His voice rose on the last few words. He hadn’t meant to shout at her. He wanted her, just once, to push her plate away and tell his father that was enough. To stop trying to put right everything he would only criticise a moment later anyway.
‘Please,’ she said quietly.
‘Please what? Am I supposed to pretend everything’s fine too?’
He looked at her, waiting for an answer. Only a few minutes earlier she had stood beside him at the window, laughing at a dog that didn’t want to go home. He loved it when she laughed like that. It always made him want to tell her something else.
Now she lowered her eyes to her plate.
Noah clenched his hands under the table. The anger was still there, but he couldn’t look at his mother any more.
‘You won’t speak like that in my house,’ Daniel said.
Noah looked up at him. His father sat waiting, his knife and fork resting against the edge of his plate.
For a moment they looked at each other.
Then Noah pushed back his chair. He picked up his backpack and left the kitchen.
On the stairs he heard his name. He didn’t stop.
In his room he set the backpack beside the desk and closed the door. He sat on the edge of the bed. He breathed slowly through his nose, but with every breath the tightness in his throat grew stronger.
Muffled voices came from downstairs. He couldn’t make out the words until his father went into the hall.
‘I’m going out for a beer.’
Keys jingled. A moment later the front door closed.
Noah raised his head.
A plate clinked in the kitchen. Then another.
He took his phone from his pocket. He unlocked it.
Scene 8 / 11
Saturday Plans
Maya leaned her folder against the cupboard by the stairs. She set her bag beside it, carefully, so the mug wouldn’t hit the floor.
The television was on in the living room. Her mother was folding laundry on the sofa, putting the clothes into two separate piles. Her father sat beside the basket with a handful of socks.
‘Is this yours?’ he asked, holding one up.
Maya looked in through the doorway.
‘If the other one turns up too.’
‘There’s only this one so far.’
She went over and pulled the other sock from under a towel.
‘Here you are.’
‘I knew it was worth waiting.’
He handed her both socks. Her mother added a folded sweatshirt.
‘This one’s dry now. You wanted it for tomorrow.’
‘Thanks.’
Maya sat on the arm of the armchair, holding the clothes in her lap. Her father took another sock from the basket and inspected it on both sides.
‘Dad, could you give me some money for drawing paper?’
‘Of course. How much do you need?’
‘I’m not sure yet. I’d like something a bit thicker. The paper I’ve got wears through when I rub things out.’
‘Then choose whatever will work best.’
‘I was thinking of going to the shop on Saturday morning. Then taking the pad down to the water.’
Her father laid a pair of socks on the basket.
‘Are you going to be drawing outside now?’
‘No, I just thought I’d go. Draw something away from home.’
Her mother smoothed a shirtsleeve.
‘You’re coming with us on Saturday.’
Maya turned her head.
‘Where?’
‘Shopping. We’ve got a few things to do. We can stop at the shop for your paper too.’
She reached for the sheet of paper on the low table. Beneath the items already listed, she added another.
‘Just a drawing pad?’
‘I wanted to have a look first.’
‘You can look when we get there.’
She put down the pen and went back to the shirt. Maya shifted the clothes on her lap to keep them from slipping to the floor.
‘What time will we be back?’
‘Late afternoon, probably. We’ll leave after breakfast.’
‘Could I stay behind after that shop, then? You could go on, and I could do some drawing.’
‘And then we’d have to come back for you?’
‘No. I’d get the bus home.’
Her mother folded the shirt in half.
‘Why make it complicated? We’ll go together and come back together.’
‘But you wouldn’t have to come and…’
‘Maya, we’ve already made plans. You can draw later.’
‘At home.’
‘You can draw at home too.’
Her father reached for the remote and turned the television down. Maya looked at him.
‘Dad, I could get home by myself.’
He put the remote on the back of the sofa.
‘Your mother’s right. We’ll get it all done in one trip. We’ll get you whatever pad you want.’
‘I know, only…’
‘And after the shopping we’ll stop at McDonald’s. You can have whatever you like.’
He smiled at her. Maya smiled back.
‘Thanks, Dad.’
Her mother picked up the next towel.
‘Take those things up to your room. And check whether you need anything for school, so we don’t end up making two trips again.’
Maya stood up. For a moment she stayed beside the armchair, the clothes pressed against her stomach.
On the list, beneath bread and washing powder, her mother had written ‘paper for Maya’.
‘I’ll check,’ she said.
In the hall she tucked the sweatshirt under one arm, picked up her folder and slung the bag over her other shoulder. She went upstairs, holding the bag to keep it from bumping against her hip.
In her room she laid the clothes on the bed. She took the red mug out of her bag and set it beside the lamp. The folder stayed propped against the desk.
She sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her phone.
There was a message from Liam waiting for her.
How was your first class?
She opened the conversation. On the way home she had still wanted to tell her boyfriend about the mug and how hard it had been to draw the shadow beneath its handle. Now she looked at the empty message box for a moment.
Good. They’ve already managed to spoil my mood at home, though.
The reply came almost at once.
What’s up?
Maya drew one leg up onto the bed. She rested the phone against her knee and began to type.
I wanted to buy some paper on Saturday and spend a bit of time down by the water with a drawing pad. Mum’s decided I’m going shopping with them. Until late afternoon.
Can’t they leave you there on the way?
That’s what I said. I could get the bus home. But we have to go together and come back together.
She saw that he was typing. She loosened her grip on the phone and waited.
What about your dad?
Says Mum’s right. And he’ll buy me whatever paper I want.
Well, that’s good, isn’t it?
Maya read the question again.
It’s not about the paper. I just wanted her to at least ask if I had any plans.
This time the reply came before she had put the phone back on her knee.
Come on, it’s only shopping.
A brief burst of laughter came from the television in the living room. Maya shifted her leg, which was starting to go numb.
Another message appeared beneath the last one.
I haven’t told you what happened at school today yet.
She looked at what she had written about having plans. Then she tapped the reply box.
What happened?
Scene 9 / 11
On the Way
Noah came down to the kitchen as Clara was putting a container with her breakfast into her bag. The keys and a paper bag of sandwiches lay on the table.
‘Those are yours,’ she said.
‘Thanks.’
He opened his backpack. The notebook shifted under his hand; he slid the sandwiches in beside it so he wouldn’t bend the cover.
Clara slung her bag over her shoulder and reached for the keys. Noah zipped up his backpack but stayed by the table.
‘Mum?’
She looked up.
For a moment he looked at the zip.
‘I didn’t mean to shout at you yesterday.’
Clara’s hand paused by the keys.
‘I know.’
He wanted to say something else. That it hadn’t been about her. That he had seen the way his father looked at her when she got up from the table. But that would mean talking about him again.
His mother came over and rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment.
‘Eat those sandwiches.’
He nodded.
‘I will.’
He put on his jacket in the hall. He lifted the handle to open the door and looked back once more.
‘Bye.’
‘Bye, Noah.’
When he got off the bus, several people were already waiting at the stop. He moved away from the doors and adjusted his backpack.
Maya was coming from a side street. He didn’t notice her until the bus had pulled away.
‘Maya!’
She turned her head. She slowed, waiting for him to catch up.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
‘Have you just got here?’
He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.
‘I’m still waking up.’
Maya looked after the bus.
‘Good thing you weren’t driving.’
He smiled and fell into step beside her. They were heading towards the centre. Ahead of them someone was pushing a bicycle, holding a bag that kept slipping off the handlebars with one hand.
The gate was open. Noah looked at the bench against the wall.
‘I’ve got that photo with me.’
Maya turned to him at once.
‘Let me see.’
‘Have you got time?’
She took out her phone, checked the time and put it away again.
‘I’ve still got time.’
They went over to the bench. Noah set his backpack on the slats, took out the notebook and slipped the print from between its pages. He put the notebook away and handed Maya the photograph.
She took it in both hands.
Noah stood beside her. For a moment all he could hear was the rattle of the bicycle being wheeled along.
Maya brought the photograph closer.
‘He’s practically lying on his shoes.’
Noah looked at the dog.
‘He tried to have a look in my bag before that.’
‘Did he just come up to you?’
‘I didn’t even notice him coming. His owner said he just likes meeting new people.’
She smiled and looked at the print again. Noah rested a hand on his backpack. He was about to ask whether she liked it, but Maya spoke first.
‘I like it. They look as if they don’t even know you’re there.’
‘He was looking straight at the camera at first.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing. I took too long setting it up.’
Maya looked up.
‘Really?’
‘I couldn’t work it out.’
She laughed softly.
‘So patience pays off.’
‘Only now I have to remember what settings I used.’
‘Didn’t you write them down?’
‘I meant to.’
Maya smiled at him.
‘I’m the same. I always think I’ll remember.’
Noah gave a quiet laugh. Maya looked back at the dog.
‘My cat doesn’t usually last that long. When I put her on my lap, she wants to get down straight away.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Pearl.’
Maya studied the photograph for another moment, then carefully handed it back.
‘It’s a lovely photo.’
‘Thanks.’
He put the photograph back in the notebook. He zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
They set off across the courtyard.
‘But the other day I sat down to draw and put her on my lap,’ Maya said. ‘I thought she’d jump straight off, but she stayed.’
‘For long?’
‘Until Mum called me for dinner. I had to hold the paper a bit higher so I wouldn’t disturb her.’
Noah smiled.
‘Comfortable.’
‘For her.’
At the end of the building Noah slowed. A narrow path between the sports hall and the fence led to his school. Maya was going on along the street.
‘I’m this way.’
‘Okay.’
They stopped at the corner.
‘See you, then,’ he said.
‘Bye.’
Noah headed towards the sports hall. He went a few steps, slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and touched his phone.
He stopped.
Maya had gone a little way along the building.
‘Maya?’
She looked back. Noah turned and went over to her, a little faster than he had meant to.
‘There was… I wanted to ask you something.’
She turned towards him.
He took out his phone. The screen stayed dark.
‘Because we haven’t really…’ He broke off and looked at the phone in his hand.
A moment ago it had been so easy to talk to her. Now he didn’t know which word to start with.
Maya adjusted the bag on her shoulder and waited.
Noah looked up.
‘Can I have your number?’
‘Sure.’
She said it straight away. She took out her own phone, and only then did he unlock his.
He opened his contacts.
‘Could you put it in?’ he asked, holding out the screen.
‘Of course.’
She entered the number and handed his phone back.
‘Give me a ring, then I’ll have yours.’
He tapped the call icon. When her phone rang, he hung up. Maya saved the contact.
‘Got it.’
Noah put his phone in his pocket.
‘I’m going now, then.’
She smiled.
‘Me too.’
‘Bye.’
‘Bye, Noah.’
Scene 10 / 11
After School
When Maya got home from school, there was a message from Noah waiting on her phone.
Hi. Did you make it to class on time this morning?
She sat on the edge of the bed.
Yes, with time to spare. You?
Me too. Even managed to wake up eventually.
She smiled. She put down her phone and began taking things out of her bag. She moved her exercise books, a textbook and a ruler to the desk.
The screen lit up again.
How was the rest of your day?
Not great.
What happened?
She looked at his question for a moment.
There’s this boy and girl in my class. They’re always having a laugh at my expense.
What did they do?
She typed ‘Never mind’, but didn’t send it.
She remembered yesterday’s conversation with Liam. Would she have to explain why it had upset her here too?
For a moment she looked at what she had typed. Then she deleted it.
I was drawing at break. He took my notebook and started showing it to her. I didn’t even have time to close it.
She sent the message, then another straight after it.
She said her little sister draws like that.
Maya sat at the desk and opened the notebook at the last page. That morning she had started sketching the tree outside the classroom window. One branch stopped short above the squared margin.
Did he give it back?
Yes. Once everyone had had a look.
What a pair of Christmas elves. Who let them loose?
Maya gave a snort of laughter.
Christmas elves? Noah, nobody says that.
I do sometimes.
A moment later he added:
I’ve got this dark-coloured soft toy dressed as an elf. Someone gave it to me a while ago. It looks after my keys, because I keep forgetting where I put them.
She was still smiling as she read his reply. A moment later another question came through.
Did you go back to the drawing afterwards?
She looked at the unfinished branch.
No. I didn’t even take the notebook out again.
Have they been doing it long?
For a while. I’m finishing school soon. Then I won’t have to see them.
She read it again, now that she had sent it.
If you want to talk, just message me.
Thanks.
She ran a hand over the bent corner of the page, closed the notebook and set it beside her pencil case.
How was your day?
I lost my library card. In the library.
Did you find it?
Yes. The librarian opened the book I was returning. It was inside.
Were you using it as a bookmark?
Yes.
And you looked everywhere else?
In my backpack twice. Then I started taking everything out onto the counter.
You didn’t look in the book?
I moved it out of the way to make more room.
Maya gave a short laugh.
First the camera settings, now your card. Some memory you’ve got.
I brought the photo, though.
True.
She put down her phone and opened her maths exercise book. She wanted to underline the heading, but couldn’t find her ruler. She checked her pencil case and moved the other exercise book aside. She even looked in her bag.
It was under the textbook.
She pulled it out and turned it between her fingers for a moment. Only that morning she had told him she always thought she would remember.
She reached for her phone.
All right, I’m one to talk.
Why?
I was looking for my ruler. I’d put my textbook on top of it myself.
So we’re much the same.
She smiled and laid the ruler on the open exercise book.
I have to do my maths.
I’ve got some for tomorrow too. Haven’t started yet.
Then get started.
Okay. Talk later.
Talk later.
Maya put her phone beside the pencil case and pulled the exercise book towards her.
Scene 11 / 11
By the Water
Over the next few days they messaged each other in the afternoons. Sometimes they exchanged only a few words; other times they picked up the conversation again that evening.
The following week Noah took the school camera down to the water again. He had asked Ms Bell about borrowing it that morning. After his last lesson he collected the bag and, instead of turning towards the bus stop, headed for the bay.
By the wooden jetty he stopped to look at a rope tied to a metal ring. Its shadow crossed a pale plank. Noah took a photograph from above, then crouched and tried from the side.
In the second shot, a stretch of empty jetty had disappeared. What remained was the rope, its frayed end and a dark line between the planks.
He switched to the first photograph, then back to the second.
‘Hi.’
He looked up.
Maya stood on the path with her folder under one arm. She held a drawing pad in her other hand.
‘Hi. I didn’t see you.’
‘I noticed.’
He stood up, adjusting the camera strap.
‘What brings you here?’
‘I wanted to do some drawing. I find it easier here than at home.’
She shifted the folder under her arm and looked towards the boats.
‘Sometimes I sit at my desk there and don’t even know where to start. Here, things keep catching my eye. Before I’ve finished one, I already want to try something else.’
Noah looked around the jetty.
‘Have you chosen something for today?’
‘That boat with the tarpaulin, I think. I was just going to draw the bow, but those folds are nice too.’
She pointed to the loose fabric moving in the wind, then glanced at the camera.
‘What have you found?’
‘A rope, so far.’
Maya looked at the planks by his shoes.
‘That one?’
He nodded.
‘Can I see?’
He turned the screen towards her. He showed her the first photograph, then the second.
Maya leaned closer.
‘I like that one better.’
‘The one from the side?’
‘Mm. You can see the little fibres. I didn’t even notice them from a distance.’
Noah zoomed in. The frayed end of the rope spread into pale threads.
‘Neither did I. Not until I crouched down.’
Maya looked at the rope again, then at the screen.
‘I’d like to try drawing it.’
‘From the side too?’
‘Probably. From above I’d end up with a bagel.’
Noah laughed and lowered the camera.
‘Can I see something of yours?’
‘Sure. I’ve even got that mug I told you about. Finished now.’
She slid the folder from under her arm and tried to hook a finger beneath the elastic. The pad tilted in her other hand.
‘Let’s sit down,’ she said, pointing to the bench beside the path.
Noah picked up his bag. He sat beside her while Maya arranged her things on her lap.
She took out the drawing and handed him the sheet. He held it by the edges.
‘Oh, Elmo.’
‘Yeah.’
‘You said it was an ordinary mug.’
‘You asked what we were drawing.’
She smiled at him and looked at the drawing.
Noah tilted the sheet. He could see a narrow shadow beneath the handle; near the upper rim, the pencil had left a lighter band.
‘You’ve done the handle well. It looks as though you could put your finger through it.’
‘That was the hardest bit. At first it looked as if I’d stuck it on the side.’
‘It doesn’t now.’
Maya looked where he had pointed. For a moment they studied the drawing together.
‘I like it,’ Noah added.
When he handed the sheet back, she laid it on her folder instead of putting it away at once.
‘There was a blue one on the table too, with nothing on it,’ she said. ‘It probably would have been less work. But once I saw Elmo, I didn’t want another one.’
She ran a finger along the blank margin.
‘I like him.’
‘What do you like about him?’
Maya gave a small shrug.
‘That expression. Look at him. He looks as if something brilliant has just happened.’
She lifted the drawing so Noah could see the character’s wide smile again.
‘Just seeing him somewhere cheers me up straight away. I know it’s only a funny little face…’
She broke off, but she was still smiling.
Noah looked from the page to her. He set his bag beside the bench and picked up the camera.
‘Can I take your picture?’
‘With him?’
‘If you want.’
She looked at the drawing and drew it closer.
‘Okay. Only I don’t know how to hold it.’
‘You can hold it the way you were.’
He stood up and stepped back. Maya followed him with her eyes until he raised the camera.
‘Did it take you long to draw?’ he asked.
She lowered the sheet a little.
‘Not the mug itself. But he took a while.’
She looked at Elmo again.
‘Once I made his eyes too small and he looked angry. I think I was more worried about getting his face wrong than about the mug being crooked.’
One corner of her mouth lifted. Noah shifted the frame a little to the side, leaving a patch of water behind her, and pressed the shutter.
Maya looked up.
‘Have you taken it already?’
‘Yes.’
‘I was still talking.’
‘I know.’
He lowered the camera and looked at the screen. In the photograph her lips were slightly parted, and she held the drawing just below her chin. The smile had not had time to fade.
‘Let me see.’
He sat down again and tilted the camera towards her.
Maya leaned closer to the screen. This time she didn’t speak straight away.
‘I like it,’ she said at last.
Noah looked at the photograph again.
‘So do I.’
‘Not all of Elmo made it in, though.’
‘You did.’
She laughed and touched the edge of the page, comparing the drawing with the part of it that had made it into the photograph.
She studied the screen a moment longer. Then she put the drawing in her folder and opened the pad at a clean page.
‘Right. Now for that boat.’
Noah rested the camera on his knees. Maya drew the first line, looked up at the boat and, after a moment, went back to drawing.
