Mum’s the Word. Kate Lawson
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Susie snorted, brushing the tears away, stooping down to clip Milo’s lead on. ‘It’s not you it’s happening to. I’m really pleased for Alice but it makes me feel so – so –’
‘Old?’ suggested Matt helpfully.
Susie glared at him furiously, struggling with the temptation to punch him as well as Robert. ‘No, not old,’ she snapped. ‘It feels kind of responsible. Granny sounds like a really big thing to be, and I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m really pleased about it for Alice’s sake, but the word doesn’t fit me, it doesn’t go with how I see myself at all. I can’t be a granny. I’m just getting my own life together,’ she said, blowing her nose. ‘I’m not grown-up enough to be a granny.’
Matt looked at her, his expression softening. ‘Granny, eh? I really loved my granny, she used to knit me woolly hats and buy me jelly babies – how are you with Fair Isle?’
Susie slapped his arm. ‘It’s not funny,’ she snorted. ‘And I’m not going to be that sort of granny.’
‘Shame,’ Matt said with a grin. ‘I really miss her.’
Despite the early-morning confessional and having to deal with puffy eyes and heavy-duty bags, Susie got to college on time, not really wanting to share any more girly heart-to-heart time with Matt, despite his offer to make her tea and fix her a full English breakfast. He was officially perfect, and at that time of the morning a bit bloody irritating.
‘How’re you feeling?’ asked Nina, her expression all concern and empathy, as Susie bowled in through the door to the main studio. The aroma of fresh coffee and turpentine greeted her like an old friend.
‘Why is everyone obsessed with how I feel?’ she growled, taking the mug Nina had in her hand.
‘Eyeliner and lippy first thing?’ said Nina. ‘Trust me, it speaks volumes.’
‘Okay. Truth? I’m in bits, with a pain in my chest the size of a London bus, but I’ll be fine. Just fine. Eventually. I just need to occupy my mind till then.’
‘How long do you think that’ll be?’
‘Six months, a year, who knows.’ Susie took a long pull on the coffee before handing it back. ‘God, that’s good. Any more in the pot? And besides, Robert was a shit.’
Nina nodded. ‘Well, yes, we all knew that, but he was your shit. And yes, there’s more coffee. Have you forgotten? Tuesday morning meeting? Posh coffee and good biscuits. We’ve got a budget for it.’
Susie laughed. That’s what real friends were for – to support you when you made stupid choices and then help pick up the pieces when it all went horribly wrong. ‘So, where are we with the master plan?’
‘Follow me,’ said Nina, beckoning her closer with a hooked finger.
Tuesday morning and the regular staff meeting – they were meant to be discussing progress for the arrangements for the departmental end-of-year exhibition, which was less than a month away. Truth was, as always, it fell squarely on the shoulders of those that did, the ones that talked a good game having long since vanished over the horizon – and that meant it always seemed to be the same faces gathered around the big art-room table.
‘Where’s everyone else?’ asked Susie, sliding her bag under the desk.
‘Traffic, bus strike, leaves on the line, dog ate their homework,’ said Nina, counting the excuses off on paint-stained fingers. ‘God only knows. I’m only on time because I walked here.’ She glanced down at her watch. ‘You should know by now. They’re all artists, darling; time is not what they do best.’
‘Robert used to say that, and he works for the Environment Agency.’
Nina pulled a face.
‘So, how’s it going then?’ asked Susie.
Nina pulled a sheet of A1 paper out of a folder and slid it across the workbench towards Susie. On it were drawn a series of cubicles, bays, display boards and plinths, with numbered stickers on each one. Nina took a notebook out of the desk drawer and opened it up to the first page.
‘It’s filling up nicely,’ she said, pointing to bay number one. ‘Ceramics, mostly blue dishes and those great big garden pots. Bay two we’ve got slumped glassware and some lizards.’
Susie sipped her coffee. ‘What I meant was, instead of talking about me, how’s it going generally, you know, as in life?’
‘Oh, that? Generally? Fine. Specifically? Not bad at all, just finished grouting the bathroom, cat had kittens, and as for how the end-of-year show looks, it will make everyone look fucking marvellous. Again. What else do you want to know?’
Susie decided to give up on the social niceties and get on with the job in hand. She pulled the sheet of paper nearer and cast a world-weary eye over the floor plan. ‘Once we’ve put in god knows how many hours overtime, chased up the work, hung it, lit it, manned the bloody thing and resisted the temptation to strangle the sideline whiners, you mean?’
Nina grinned. ‘Exactly. By the way, have you heard from Hill’s Nurseries yet? You know, flowers, plants, ambiance, style?’
‘Bugger me, I’d forgotten all about them. Good news is I have done a skeleton press release, though, we just need to add the names in. I’ll chase the nursery up. I’m really hoping that they’ll stump up some sort of floral display outside the main foyer. I mean, it’s great advertising for them and we send enough slave labour their way from the floristry department.’
‘The college prefer to call it work placement,’ said a male voice from the back of the art room.
Susie looked up and grinned at Austin, their head of department, who was heading in through the glass doorway. He was a man who had made his way up through the ranks. An artist first and foremost, Austin wore his administrator’s hat at as jaunty an angle as was possible to achieve while keeping the machinery oiled. He had the look of a rugged, earthier Melvyn Bragg and was not only a devoted Christian but seriously married, which made him a bit of a rarity in higher education.
‘Maybe you should get the boss to ring?’ said Nina with a grin.
‘You mean grub around for sponsors and support – not really his style, is it?’
‘I heard that. Taking my name in vain again, are we?’ Austin said. ‘Coffee smells good. Who do you want me to ring and where the heck is everybody else?’ he asked, glancing around as he settled down at the table with the two of them.
Susie shrugged. Nina shrugged. He opened his briefcase and slid a piece of paper Nina’s way. ‘There we are. One of my minions managed to persuade Pettifers to sponsor the wine, and Browns have said they’ll cover the cost of the catering again.’
The two women nodded appreciatively as the double doors swung open, and Colin, the ceramics studio technician, ambled in, pulling off his beanie hat. He was followed by a small plump woman from textiles called Eleanor, who always spent a lot of her time at meetings saying, ‘I’m not sure I should be here, after all I’m only part time, and to be honest I feel I’m out of my depth. I mean, I don’t really know how relevant my input is.’
‘I thought we’d got all the sponsorship sorted out?’ said Colin, sliding onto a stool alongside Nina.
Nina consulted her notebook. ‘Basically we have now, thanks to Austin, although this year apparently we are supposed to refer to it as contributory partnership, not raffle snafflers or soft touches. So that’s catering, wine.’ She ticked things off on her list. ‘We’ve got some great fabric for banners, printing costs are all covered – just the sourcing of the busy lizzies to go now.’
‘Which is down to me,’ said Susie, holding her hand up. ‘I’m really hoping we can get the place brightened up a little more dramatically than last year. Robert –’ saying his name made her feel as if she was crunching across glass shards in bare feet ‘– suggested that