‘Nope.’
‘Okay, what are you listening to right now?’
I don’t hesitate, ‘Will Bailey.’
‘There’s a blast from the past. What else? What else this month?’
I list a bunch of bands and artists I’ve been listening to. He tries to catch me out with a series of questions that would stump even the geekiest of music nerds, but I ace them all.
Paul Raymond sighs. ‘Okay, I’ll talk to the guys atLuminaireand we’ll give it a go, but if you’re any trouble, you can go straight back there.’
Chapter 19
February 1995
When Will pulled up in the car park of Emily’s college, she was waiting on the front steps as arranged. He raised his hand in greeting.
‘Thanks for doing this, Will,’ she said at his window.
‘No problem.’
It was abitof a problem, though. Nigel wouldn’t let him take a couple of hours off, so he had to pretend he was stuck in traffic.
He parked the van and followed her up the steps through a doorway with the word ‘BOYS’ carved in the stone above it. This must have been a school once. The vast church-like interior was divided into cubicles with partition screens. The hum of conversations and faint music echoed around the space. Emily led him through the maze of screens, all covered in sketches and paintings. Students were standing around chatting or busy creating, ranging from trendies wearing thick, black-framed glasses to crusties with purple hair and piercings.
Will loved the place.
He got distracted by a sketch of a skull and had to run to catch her up.
‘This is me.’ She turned a slow circle in her cubicle.
Her artwork covered every inch of the screens enclosing her space.
‘Woah.’ Will stepped closer to examine a detailed watercolour of a shiny conker in its spiky shell. He traced his way from one gem to the next, murmuring his appreciation.
He stopped at a large charcoal sketch of a naked man and turned to Emily with raised eyebrows. ‘Must have been cold in here that day,’ he said.
Her giggle echoed in the space.
That’s when he noticed the sculpture on a table beside her.
‘Is this it?’ he asked.
She gave a bashful nod.
‘Wow.’ Twisted spirals of copper wire formed an organic shape with spikes protruding from it at all angles. He touched one of the points, ‘It’s beautiful. What is it?’
‘Pollen.’
‘Huh?’
‘It’s a pollen particle – here.’ She opened her sketchbook and turned to a spread pasted with photocopies from a science book. ‘This is what they look like under the microscope.’
‘Wow, who knew? Those beautiful little bastards make you sneeze.’
Her laugh rang out again. God, she was lovely. She couldn’t get any lovelier, but seeing her here, surrounded by her work – she was perfection.
‘Right,’ she said, pulling him back from his thoughts, ‘how shall we do this?’ She set the sketchbook down. ‘It’s not heavy, it’s just awkward.’