Scene 1 / 6
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 / 6
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 and ran a hand along its edge.
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 / 6
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.
Noah adjusted the bag on his shoulder and walked on.
Scene 4 / 6
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 / 6
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 / 6
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.
