‘I can arrange for a refund for you for the rest of your fees,’ she says without warmth. ‘That’s the best I can offer.’
‘Don’t I have the right to appeal?’ What I mean is, can’t someone in this college help me? I can’t only be at the mercy of this woman who has clearly decided to get rid of me simply because she can. Because she’s bitter and twisted. Because she has some point to prove.
‘I’m afraid not.’ My tutor closes the folder in front of her that bears my name.
I’m history. Just like that. She stands up. I’m to be dismissed.
‘One day you’ll thank me for this. I’m doing you a favour, Nell. Perhaps you need to rethink your plans. I simply think you aren’t good enough to make it in this world.’
That cuts me to the quick. I am good enough. I’m sure that I am.
‘I can prove that I am.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Everyone deserves a second chance.’
But as she ushers me to the door, it seems that Amelia Fallon is unmoved.
Chapter 16
In a daze, I walk out of the college. For hours I wander about aimlessly trying to get my head straight and failing. My dreams, before they even got off the ground, have crashed and burned round my ears. Up by the busy library, I sit alone in the small and pretty Physic Garden that’s right next door. I sometimes come to this place with Petal after we’ve collected new books for her to read. We both love it here. It’s a quiet little oasis in the bustling town centre. I’m surrounded by plants that are supposed to heal or provide succour – lavender, chamomile, St John’s wort. Today, they do nothing for me. I crush some lavender in my hand and breathe in the scent. Pretty, but my mind remains in turmoil. The wind whips up and I get so cold that my bones start to freeze and my brain goes numb. So I move on again.
I don’t really know where I’m going, but I eventually find myself outside Live and Let Fry just as they are about to close up after lunchtime service, which is just as well as I don’t want to go home while I’m in this state.
My eyes are raw from crying and I stumble inside. Constance is wiping down the tables and as soon as she sees me, she abandons her cloth and takes me in her arms.
‘Nell, love,’ she says, frowning. ‘What on earth is the matter?’
‘College,’ I sob. ‘I’ve been thrown off my course.’
‘Oh my goodness,’ she says, hand going to her heart. ‘Is that all? I thought someone was hurt. Now dry those tears. Thrown off your course?’ She tuts. ‘That can be fixed.’
She leads me to a table and sits me down. Then she calls out. ‘Phil! Phil! Our Nell is here and she needs tea!’
Phil and Jenny appear from the back of the chippy. My boss’s face falls when he sees me. ‘Nell, love.’ He comes and slips into the seat next to me and puts his arm round my shoulder, which makes the tears that I just about had under control flow again. This place feels like my sanctuary, my home. I’m loved here, not out on a limb. They don’t think I’m stupid, lazy, incapable. They don’t tell me here that I’m not good enough.
Jen says, ‘I’ll make that tea.’ She disappears into the back once more.
Constance hands me a napkin and I blow my nose into it.
‘Now then,’ Phil says softly. ‘Tell us all about it.’
I launch into my tale of how I’ve struggled to keep up with the work, struggled to keep all of my balls in the air, struggled to make the one important person at the college like me, like my work.
‘Oh, Nell,’ Phil says after he hears me out. ‘We could have helped you out. Why didn’t you say? We thought you were eating it up for breakfast. None of us knew you were struggling. We’re your friends, Nell.’
‘I wanted to show you all that I could do it.’ Look where that’s left me. My eyes fill with tears again.
‘Don’t fret,’ he says, patting my back. ‘There are other courses.’
‘She thought my work was rubbish, Phil.’ She thought I was rubbish. ‘What if I sign up for another course and they say the same thing?’ Then all my dreams, my hopes will be truly crushed.
‘They won’t,’ he assures me. ‘You’re wonderful. I’ve a good mind to go down to that college and drag that woman up here and make her look at what you’ve done. You were too good for them, that’s the problem.’
I have to laugh at that. ‘It’s lovely to have friends who have such blind faith in me.’
‘It’s not blind,’ Phil points out. ‘We can see what your work has done. She’s the one who can’t.’
Jen brings the tea and some chocolate digestives and we all dig in, gratefully.
‘She’s probably just jealous,’ is Jen’s take on this. ‘You’re young and fit and have the whole of your life ahead of you. Well, most of it. She’s a bitter old bag who probably hasn’t had a decent shag in years.’
That makes us all laugh. If only life were so simple. But the long and the short of it is that, decent shag or not, she still had my future in her hands. And she decided that it was not going to be on her bloody course, come hell and high water.
I put my head in my hands.
‘So what now?’ Constance wants to know.
‘Can I have my full-time job back, Phil? I’m going to be free at lunchtime now.’ I try to make light of it but inside my heart is breaking.
‘No,’ Phil says. ‘No. I’m not having you back here.’
He sounds fairly adamant.
‘You’re not giving up that easily, Nell McNamara. Oh, no.’
‘I can’t face starting another college course,’ I tell him. ‘Anywhere I went would be further away for one thing, and even more difficult to work round Petal.’ Not to mention the fact that my already shaky confidence, my self-esteem, has been smashed into the weeds.
Constance holds my hands. ‘Phil’s right, love. Don’t give up this easily. We need to come up with a Plan B.’
Plan B could just be to stay working in a chippy for the rest of my life with my good and well-meaning friends.
‘Will you get any money back from the course?’ Phil asks.
‘Full refund,’ I tell him. That offers some consolation. Phil’s money hasn’t been completely wasted. ‘At least that’s not lost. I’ll give it straight back to you.’ Otherwise I might be tempted to have a retail frenzy of the handbag nature to cheer myself up.
‘That’s not what I’m worried about,’ he says. ‘I want you to keep it and put it to good use.’ He looks thoughtful as he chomps on his biscuit. Eventually, he declares, ‘You have to set up on your own, then you can work hours to suit you. It’s the only way.’
‘I can’t do that. I don’t know the first thing about running a business.’
‘I’ll help you all I can,’ Phil offers. ‘You know that. The money you get back from the college course can go towards start-up costs.’
Start-up costs? ‘But what would I do?’
‘What have you learned on your course so far?’ Jenny wants to know.
‘Not a lot, Jen,’ I admit. I’ve only been there a scant month.
‘A bit of the basics of screen printing. I know my way round a camera better than I did and I can handle a glue gun now.’ All great stuff, which I’ve loved doing, but not that much practical to show for nearly a month of study.
‘You could start up a company that revamps chippies,’ Constance suggests.
‘She did that for a bit of fun,’ Jen says, ‘and to help Phil out. What she really needs is to do something that she’s got a passion for.’
They all turn to look at me, expectant.
‘Handbags.’ It’s out of my mouth before it’s gone through my brain. ‘Handbags.’ I blink at the revelation and they blink back. ‘That’s what I’ve got a passion for.’
‘Brilliant,’ Jen says, applauding. ‘Handbags it is!’
‘But I don’t know anything about making handbags.’
‘Get on that internet then, love,’ Constance suggests. ‘You can find out how to make anything on
there, they must have a section on handbags.’
We all giggle again and I sigh with relief as the tension ebbs out of me.
‘There are all kinds of grants for new businesses,’ Phil says. ‘Once you get your plan together, I’m sure you’ll be eligible for something.’
Plan ? Even the word terrifies me. ‘Do you think?’
‘You’ll never know until you try, love,’ Constance says. ‘You’ve got to give it a go. You can’t give up at the first hurdle.’
‘What about if it all goes horribly wrong, like the college course?’ I’m not sure my fragile ego could take another knock-out blow.
‘Do you think Alan Sugar would have given up at the first hurdle?’
I shrug. ‘I guess not.’
‘You’ve got a lot to think about, Nell,’ Phil says. ‘But never forget that we’re here to help you.’ He squeezes my shoulder. ‘We’re your friends.’
‘I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,’ I admit. ‘Now,’ I wipe my eyes on my sleeve, ‘I’d better get home as I’m due back here very soon.’ In less than an hour to be exact.
‘I’ll cover your shift tonight,’ Constance says. ‘You look exhausted.’
Normally, I’d protest and insist that I carry on and think about how much we need the money, but I feel completely wiped out and emotionally drained. Plus, Constance has her not-to-be-argued-with face on. ‘I would quite like a night in with Olly and Petal.’
‘Then that’s what you should do.’ She pats my knee.
‘Thanks, Constance.’ I kiss my friend gratefully. ‘Thanks to you all.’
‘Go home,’ Jenny says. ‘Or you’ll have us all blubbing.’
So I gather myself together and leave them to finish tidying up.
I walk slowly towards my home and take my usual route past Betty the Bag Lady. Betty isn’t in this afternoon, it’s her assistant who’s on duty, so I stand outside and stare at the bags in the window. All of my life I’ve loved them.
Could I do this? Can I skip the whole formal training thing and go straight into doing something like this? My friends seem to think that I can, but then their confidence in me could be entirely misplaced. After all, I have absolutely no confidence in myself.
Chapter 17
Olly and I lie on the sofa facing each other like bookends, feet entwined, enjoying the rare night in together. He still looks rather shell-shocked by my news. To be honest, I’m not much different. My thoughts are scattered all over the place like seeds in the wind. On the one hand, Amelia Fallon’s nagging voice is in my head, filling my brain with negative vibes. On the other, it feels like a tiny little bud of something exciting might be blossoming in there too.
‘I’ll support you, whatever you want to do,’ Olly says. ‘But starting your own business? Wow.’
‘I know. It’s crazy.’ But crazy actually feels quite good. ‘I thought I could perhaps design and make handbags. Maybe sell a few in Betty’s shop.’
‘You’re not going to become rich and famous selling a few in Betty’s shop,’ he quite rightly points out.
‘It’s a start, though.’ I hug the cupcake cushion to me. ‘I can fit it in round my shifts at the chippy and see if it takes off. Phil said I can hang on to the money he loaned us. He thought there might be some business grants available too. Do you think I should go for it?’
‘Why not?’ Olly says. ‘If you do it part-time. As a sort of hobby.’
‘Yeah.’ Hobby, my arse. ‘It won’t be as mad as the last few weeks have been. I promise.’ I keep quiet about my budding plans to give Lulu Guinness a run for her money.
‘Petal has missed you,’ he tells me. ‘So have I.’
He shimmies up to my end of the sofa and we lie along the length of each other, settling into the contours that are now so familiar.
‘Hmm,’ Olly says. ‘Remember when we used to do this as teenagers?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I murmur. ‘I always had to watch where your hands were in case my mum or dad walked in.’
‘Oh, happy days,’ Olly says. His lips find mine and he holds me tightly.
Then the door opens and, instinctively, I check if my clothing is in place.
‘When are you coming to bed?’ Petal says, rubbing her eyes. ‘I can’t sleep without you.’
Olly rolls away from me. ‘Petalmeister, what are you doing up? You should be in bed.’
‘So should you,’ our daughter says. ‘Have you seen the time?’
Why is it that your children like to parrot back your own phrases to you?
‘OK,’ Olly says. ‘We’re coming now. Scoot up those stairs as quickly as you can, otherwise you’re in your own bed.’
Petal leaves the room in a whirlwind.
Olly sighs. ‘When did our lives become controlled by our child?’
‘When she was born,’ I remind him.
‘Shall we go up? We’re not going to get a minute’s peace until we do.’
‘You go up,’ I tell him. ‘I just want to do a few things. Maybe sketch out some ideas.’ After the last few weeks of struggling to be creative on request, I suddenly find that I’ve got all kinds of things buzzing round my head.
‘Don’t be long, hun.’
‘I won’t.’ He plants a lingering kiss on my head and goes out of the door.
I get my college bag and pull out my sketch pad. I settle back into the sofa with it propped up on my knees and push away the yawn that wants to come. It’s no good. I’m way too comfortable. If I stay here, I’ll only fall asleep.
I take my pad and climb the stairs. Dude lopes out of the kitchen and quietly follows at my heels. Trying not to disturb my family, I creep into the spare room and, surrounded on all sides by Olly’s beloved records, open the wardrobe. The dog curls up in the corner.
My collection of handbags is neatly laid out in front of me. Frankly, it’s about the only bit of the house that is neat.
Pulling out half a dozen, I lay them on the floor then tenderly slip each one out of its dust bag. There’s a striking black-and-white canvas bucket bag with a screen print of Judy Garland on it – still one of my favourites. Next to it there’s a bag with bamboo handles and a bright tropical print featuring parrots and palm trees studded with sequins and beads, which was fantastic to wear when Olly and I used to have holidays that didn’t involve a cramped tent or a caravan. The tiny shimmery gold affair with cream vintage lace was bought for my cousin’s wedding from a flea market and hardly ever gets an outing, even though it’s gorgeous. I might take it with me to the chippy tomorrow just to give it some fresh air. There’s also a pretty little cerise fabric one that looks like a flower and it has a big diamanté sparkle in the middle. I don’t think I’ve used this since Petal was born either, as it’s only big enough to hold a lipstick and a tissue and these days I can’t go out without a suitcase full of emergency gear. On the more unusual side, I have a green leather bag in the shape of a watering can, one that’s made from two old vinyl records and one that’s a recycled number plate. One is a red patent leather radio complete with moving dials and there’s a big yellow teapot too. Petal’s favourite.
Finally, my top treasure. My one and only Lulu Guinness bag. Olly bought this for me when Petal was born, at great expense. It’s a slim clutch in black with a picture of a London bus and a woman in a sharp fifties suit with a nipped-in waist embroidered on the front. It’s my prize possession. If the house was burning down, I’d first rescue Petal, then the dog, then this handbag. I’m assuming Olly would be able to make his own escape.
An hour and one chewed pencil later, and I’ve roughed out two designs that give me a frisson of excitement all along the hairs on my neck. Dude snores away in the corner, paddling the air with his feet. In his dream he could well be chasing next door’s cat with whom he has a hate/hate relationship. The entire house is asleep but me. I know that I’m way too excited to settle tonight. Somehow I resist the urge to go into the bedroom and show these to Olly as I’m sure he wouldn’t be very enthu
siastic after having his precious beauty sleep interrupted.
I hold my designs out at arm’s length and try to regard them with a critical eye. They’re good. No matter what the dastardly Amelia Fallon might think, I know in my heart of hearts that they’re good.
Chapter 18
I’m in the offices of Best of Business and, accordingly, I’m trying to look like a businesswoman. Phil was right. Even in these straitened times, there is still help to be had with setting up new businesses. I am classed as a micro-entrepreneur in Best of Business jargon and am to be the future of our country. Jolly glad about that.
I found out all about them from the library and when I called the helpline, I was offered an appointment for the next day. From there I was matched with my very own advisor to help me through the trials and tribulations of business startup. An official hand-holder for the first year of my company’s existence. Believe me; I feel that I need one as this all seems totally daunting. They’ve managed to hook me up with someone, they say, who has experience that matches my business perfectly. I do hope so. Best of all, there’s no charge for his services for the initial period of a year. Nothing. This is equally good as I’d never be able to afford it otherwise. Today, I’m due to meet him for the first time.
The offices are very posh – all glass, stainless steel and low lime-green sofas. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place like this before. Frankly, I’m feeling a bit wide-eyed and unworthy. I’m glad that I spruced myself up. Today, Ms Nell McNamara, micro-entrepreneur, is wearing a black dirndl skirt, red blouse and ballet flats. I’m also carrying my Judy Garland bag – primarily because it’s the biggest one I possess and I’m anticipating taking away lots of pamphlets.
Sitting opposite me in an armchair that mirrors mine, is a man called Tod Urban who is to be my appointed mentor and it’s fair to say that Mr Urban is very easy on the eye. I had expected a business mentor to be staid, soberly dressed in the style of a bank manager. But he isn’t. This man’s wearing slim black jeans, a white T-shirt and winklepicker shoes. His hair is showing some grey at the temples and it’s worn long, swept back from his face. I think some men get better with age – you only need to look at George Clooney (something I try to do as often as possible) – and I think that Tod Urban is also one of them.
Summer Daydreams Page 6