Page 125 of When We Were Young

I ring Scott’s doorbell. We haven’t spoken since the trip to Beatland. The drive back from Gloucestershire was excruciating. Scott stared straight ahead at the road and Liv sat in the back in silence.

He texted me this morning:We need to talk about Liv.

So here I am.

But he’s not answering. I’m about to press the bell again when he opens the door, his phone pressed to his ear. He gestures for me to come in. The conversation sounds heated. He finishes up his call and goes straight to the fridge.

‘Sorry about that,’ he says. ‘Wine?’

‘Just a small one.’

He pours two glasses and hands me one.

‘What’s up?’ I ask.

‘Ah, it’s work. I’ve got a big Christmas campaign that’s giving me grief.’

‘Christmas? It’s June.’

‘We do Christmas campaigns in the summer – we’re so behind this year.’

‘What happened?’

‘We were partnering with an artist – Guy Arnaud. Have you heard of him?’

‘No.’

‘He’s been a nightmare throughout the entire process, a real prima donna, and now he’s not returning my calls. I’ve got a meeting with the client on Wednesday and nothing to show. I’m glad you’re here; maybe you can help?’

‘Me?’

‘This is right up your street, Em. I don’t know why I didn’t ask you before.’

‘Scott, I’m not an artist. I’m a barista, and a poor one at that.’

‘I just need an idea. Tell me what you would do.’

He grabs his iPad, and we take our drinks to the dining table. He pulls up a website.

‘This client is a luxury hotel group with three hotels: one in London, Paris, and Amsterdam. You know how luxury hotels have big Christmas displays in their reception areas? Well, this year we suggested partnering with an artist. Someone on the client team recommended Guy Arnaud, but he’s useless.’

He shows me photographs. ‘This is the Amsterdam hotel. We need to put a display in this area.’

He points to the space next to a sweeping staircase.

‘It used to be a music school in the 1800s, so it has a music theme. This one is in London. It has a writing theme because Oscar Wilde and Rudyard Kipling stayed there. And this one’s in Paris. It’s an Art Nouveau palace, so it has an art theme.’

I take the iPad and scroll through the photos. ‘Remember those vintage baubles I have? You could have a huge bauble hanging from the ceiling. Do you have a pen?’

He grabs a pen from a drawer and hands me an unopened letter.

I sketch the shape of a fifties-style bauble with a point at the top and the bottom.

‘They’ve got that concave circle with a starburst in the middle,’ I say, adding one to my drawing. ‘This could be a window; when you peer in, there’s a display of violins and saxophones or something. And in the London one you couldhave quills and books. And the Paris one, maybe paint brushes and palettes.’

‘I love it!’ says Scott.

‘I have no idea how you’d make it, though.’

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