Intimate Lines

By Jenni Clarke

A contemporary story of an artist's inner conflict.

Nadia, a young woman conflicted between her desire to be an artist and her inability to let go of her past, is living in the shadows of life until her domineering boss forces her to work with a local art teacher. 

While exploring her artistic desires, Nadia encounters new emotions and risks destroying  friendships, her job, and the chance to be reunited with her sister. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jenni Clarke
• Release date: Jan 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215341834

Jenni Clarke

Jenni Clarke lives in a quiet corner of France where she indulges in her love of reading, writing and her forest garden. When not binging on words or plants you may see a flash of blue or pink lycra as she explores mountainous roads on her bicycle and stops to admire stunning views (not because she is out of breath.)

Book preview

Chapter One

Dear Deenah

This is not an ordinary blog, but the only way I can think of to reach out to you, my sister. I know the chances of you reading this are very, very, small, but I live in hope. It may inspire others to find their pathway in life too, so please read even if your name isn’t Deenah.

Deenah, I want to explain what happened after I left home, so you can understand the person I am today, and hopefully forgive me.

I wish I could be talking to you in person.

I’m sorry for my impulsiveness, although the only regret I have is not seeing you for...it must be over five years now. I wonder where you are living. I imagine your home is beautiful, and filling with happy babies. Ow, that thought struck my heart with joy and sadness at what I’m missing, but I know I only have myself to blame.

NADIA WATCHED JAKE pull the door open with one hand whilst the other swept through his wild hair. If he was trying to smarten his appearance, he was wasting his time. Nadia lowered her head and the ghost of a smile graced her lips. Jake Peterson, the local University art teacher and heartthrob of many a student’s dreams. She’d seen him here, attending the gallery’s shows, pausing to admire a worthy painting, or wrinkling his nose in dismay at what some people call art. She had watched him drinking coffee in the Cup and Kettle, so engrossed in a book that he didn’t notice the tipping of the cup paused mid-flight, until a drip landed on his jeans, adding to the artwork of stains.

‘Oh, Jake darling, how pleasant to see you on this miserable, grey day.’ Jessica glided across the gallery and placed two perfectly formed air kisses either side of his stubble-shadowed cheeks. Her eyes flitted across his dishevelled appearance and her nose twitched.

Jake smiled.

‘Jessica. You’re looking as wonderful as ever. How’s business?’ He glanced around the pristine room.

‘The art world is a fickle one.’ Jessica sighed. ‘I hope you ensure your students understand only the very best succeed. High-profile art demands attention to detail, and appearances are everything unless they aspire only to be a teacher. So often they look like they have thrown clothes on with no thought to the impression they are giving to the world.’

Nadia sucked in a breath. Her boss was so incredibly rude, and yet Jessica was fawned over because a word in the right ear could make or break an artist, regardless of their talent.

‘I like being a teacher.’  Jake’s jaw muscles tightened. ‘Being the first to see raw talent blossom is humbling. Helping students to find their focus and watching them grow from failures and experimentation is satisfying. I’ll never fit the glamorous world of art you inhabit, Jessica.’ He gestured at his clothes. ‘But I like to visit occasionally, and I love the recent exhibitions. You’ve captured the artist’s work in the positioning of plinths and lighting in such a unique way.’

‘You are gushing. It does not suit you.’ Jessica held up a manicured hand. ‘I presume you are here to ask a favour. Shall I put you out of your misery or would you like to waste your words?’

‘Jessica, I know I ask every year, and you give me the same answer, but I’m hopeful. One day you may take pity on the students who have only my example to follow and say yes. I’ll beg if you like?’

‘I know you can beg.’ Jessica’s chic red lips curved upward. ‘We may live in different worlds now, but I do remember when we were embarrassingly young and foolish.’

Nadia frowned. Was it possible that Jessica and Jake had been in a relationship? She studied the polished woman and the scruffy man and shook her head.

‘Could they have the small gallery and your expertise for a weekend? You can choose which work is displayed.’ Jake pushed his shaggy fringe from his face.

‘No, absolutely not. You know my policy is only to show those who have proved their place in the art world. I have no time for amateurs, however...’

Jake waited and pushed his hands deep into his jean pockets. His lips parted. To Nadia he looked like an infatuated teenager gazing at his favourite film star. She returned to her work on the computer, arranging a catalogue for the artist who was exhibiting in the small gallery.

‘I am sure my assistant would be willing to give some advice on display to your students. I know that you have plenty of suitable spaces in that ancient building you teach in.’

Jake’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve a new assistant? Since when?’

‘The past three months. You must have seen her on our open evenings.’

Jake shook his head and frowned.

‘Nadia.’ Jessica gestured towards the sleek, white information desk and Jake looked across the room.

Nadia stood up and nodded but Jessica beckoned her over.

‘Nadia, this is Jake, who presumes to place amateur pieces of...’ her lips turned down ‘...art in my gallery. I have told him you are welcome to advise his students at the university. It will be a good experience for you.’

Nadia suppressed her desire to back away and extended her hand towards Jake. ‘Hello Jake, I’m pleased to meet you.’

Jake shook her hand with a firm, warm grip, sending tingles of fear up her arm, and a smouldering heat to her face. ‘It’s good to meet you Nadia. Sorry I didn’t acknowledge you when I walked in, I wasn’t aware there was anyone but Jessica here.’

Nadia smiled and withdrew her hand. She had perfected the art of being quiet, and unnoticed.

‘I remember seeing you at the art shows.’ Jake smiled at her. ‘But I didn’t know you were Jessica’s assistant. Would you share your knowledge with my students?’

Nadia looked at the floor. ‘I’m no expert. I’m sure you can find-‘

‘Nonsense.’ Jessica snapped. ‘You have been with me for three months.’ Jessica clicked her heel on the polished floor. ‘I will leave you to sort out the details. Make sure it is in your own time, Nadia. I expect your priority to be this gallery.’ Jessica turned away with a flick of dismissal. ‘I want to see your ideas for the catalogue as soon as.’ She entered her private office but left the door open.

Nadia twisted the thin bracelet on her wrist and controlled her breathing.

‘Do you know the Cup and Kettle?’ Jake asked. ‘We could meet when you finish work. I wouldn’t like you to get into trouble.’ He glanced towards Jessica’s office.

‘I can be there just after five, if Jessica is happy with my first proof.’

‘Five-thirty?’

‘Okay.’ She dared to look up into his green eyes.

He grinned and left.

Nadia stared at the door. The gallery felt as empty as her knotted stomach.

‘The catalogue won’t arrange itself.’ Jessica’s shrill voice echoed through the room and Nadia hurried to her desk. She enjoyed her job, but not the way Jessica treated her. It was strange how she had swapped one dominating person in her life for another, but at least this one paid, and wasn’t going to try and marry her off to some second cousin.

The aroma of roasted coffee beans mixed with herbal teas wrapped a blanket of comfort around Nadia. Although the café was only half-full, the clatter of cups, chatter of voices, and hiss of steaming water was a welcome contrast to the quiet of the gallery. She soaked it in as she walked to a table near the window. This was the perfect spot for people watching. She enjoyed the contrast between the warm, chaotic, social, inside world, where people let down their barriers like peeling off their outer layers of coats, scarves and hats, and the cold outside, where people walked with a purpose, keeping social niceties at a brief nod or smile. Except for Jake.

He strode along the pavement, stopping to chat to everyone, with his ready smile. He didn’t wear a hat and his light-brown hair was teased by the wind into curls before being whipped up as if static had taken a hold. He flung his escaping scarf over one shoulder before entering the café and waded through the tables, pulling off his long coat as if it were a cloak, swishing it across the table next to her. Then turned and bowed in apology to the woman who grabbed her coffee from harm’s way. Her frown dissolved into a smile when he looked at her, and she insisted that no harm had been done, despite wiping her hand with a tissue once Jake had turned away.

‘Hi, Nadia. Sorry I’m late. You ordered yet?’ He sat down, and his long legs bumped her neatly placed feet beneath the table. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to kick you.’

‘You didn’t, and I haven’t. I mean... I’ve not been here long.’

‘What would you like? My treat?’

Nadia asked for a mocha with cream. Jake smiled and asked the waitress for two mochas.

‘Let’s live a little, we’ll have sprinkles on the top, and two cinnamon buns please, Kate.’ He looked at Nadia. ‘Please tell me you like cinnamon buns. They make the best.’ His eyebrows raised as if to say everyone liked cinnamon buns.

‘I do, thank you,’ Nadia said and put her hands on her lap.

‘I’m curious, how many times did Jessica ask you to move the pictures in the catalogue?’ Jake leant forward, his elbows on the table. ‘And how similar to your first design was the final one?’

Nadia smiled. ‘You know Jessica well.’

‘Do you enjoy working for her?’

‘Yes.’ Nadia blinked in surprise at her answer. ‘I’ve learnt more in the last three months than I did in the three years at my last job.’

‘Where was that?’ Jake intertwined his fingers and leant his chin on them.

‘A small gallery in east London. Although he sent me on courses and workshops, the manager had his own set formula for displaying work. No deviations to enhance the artist’s style, no extra lighting or music to accompany the work. Jessica may seem like a tyrant, but she likes to show art in the best way possible. She has high standards and high expectations of everyone, including herself.’ Nadia stopped, aware that she was rambling. She bit her lip.

Jake relaxed back in his chair. ‘Sorry, I’m bombarding you with questions. I can’t believe you’ve lived and worked here for three months and I’ve not seen you. What d’you do when you’re not working?’ He slapped his hand over his mouth. ‘There I go again, asking questions.’

Nadia was relieved when the waitress arrived with their order.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘Yes, thanks, Kate. As usual that smells, and looks, divinely sinful.’ Jake closed his eyes and sniffed the steam from his drink.

Nadia wrapped her hands around the mug before lifting it high enough for a frothy sip. ‘This is wonderful.’ She placed the mug carefully on the table and laughed at the white moustache Jake now sported.

He wiped the cream away with his finger, licking it clean. ‘Can’t waste it.’ He took a huge bite of the cinnamon bun. ‘This is great too. I love this place. You been here before?’

‘Yes.’ She came in almost every day after work, or in the morning if she was working an afternoon shift.

‘Oh.’ Crumbs fell from his mouth. ‘I’ve never seen you.’

‘That happens a lot.’

‘What?’ He picked the cinnamon-bun morsels littering his jumper between his paint-stained finger and thumb and popped them in his mouth. ‘Crumbs?’

Nadia laughed. ‘Not being seen.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ He screwed up his nose. ‘Large family?’

Her eyes widened. ‘No. A family with, ah, different ideas on life.’ She nibbled the side of the bun and sighed. Her shoulders relaxed, and they munched in silence.

Jake waited for her to finish eating before he pulled a tattered diary from his coat pocket, rummaged in the other for a chewed pen, and dumped them on his plate.

Nadia wiped her fingers and lips with the serviette before opening her shoulder bag. She positioned a pristine notebook and an enamelled, slimline pen on the table.

Their eyes met, and Nadia bit her lip.

‘I don’t think this is a good idea. I’ve never spoken to art students before. I won’t know what to say.’

‘I think you probably know more than you realise, and the students will be glad to have a break from my nagging.’ Jake said. ‘All you need to do is look at their displays and make some suggestions for improvement. I would hazard a guess that Jessica’s ideas for display recently haven’t entirely been her own?’

Nadia blushed and shook her head.

‘I don’t want to use too much of your time. Jessica shouldn’t assume you want to spend your non- working hours in another art environment.’

‘The time’s not a problem. My official working hours aren’t full-time.’

‘But you don’t want to spend time out of work talking about art? I can understand that.’

‘No, it’s not the art. It gives me a thrill when new paintings or sculptures arrive at the gallery. Jessica has vetted the quality beforehand, but I only see photos. The real item is so much more.’

‘I don’t think my student’s art will live up to what you’re used to seeing. Is that the problem?’ Jake twirled the pen in his fingers.

‘No. I like amateur art but I’m not good at talking to people. I’m better in the background. I’m not Jessica. I don’t know if I’ll be any use to your students. I’ve never done this before.’

Jake opened his diary and flicked through the pages full of cramped writing and coloured smudges. ‘They’re a good group and will appreciate any comments and help. You don’t have to worry. Please say yes and try it once, if it makes you too uncomfortable, I won’t ask again.’

Nadia pushed away fluttering nerves and an underlying feeling that Jessica was once again manipulating her. She would’ve known how persuasive Jake could be. ‘Okay, I’ll try. What are they displaying?’

‘Paintings and sketches mostly. The exhibition’s in a fortnight, so they’re busy deciding what to show, and how to mount or frame. Uh, would you like to see what they’ve chosen, or wait until they’ve hung their work?’

Nadia frowned, now she’d agreed she’d better sound professional. ‘I’d like to see what they are choosing first, maybe I can give some suggestions for mounts and frames? But I don’t want to step on your toes.’

He laughed and ran his hand through his hair, making it look more windswept than the wind had.

‘No, I’m afraid displaying artwork isn’t my forte. Which is why I beg Jessica every year for space in her gallery. I always hope that the students will benefit from her professionalism and prestige.’

‘How many students are there? Could they visit the gallery? We could look at the work on display and I could explain the process.’

His face crinkled along well-established smile lines. ‘There’s twelve preparing to display their work this term. I stagger the groups because the room we use for a gallery is not large enough for more. They learn from each other’s mistakes, and successes too.’

‘Twelve,’ she gulped. ‘I can manage twelve.’ She twisted her bracelet and Jake’s eyes were drawn to her wrist.

‘That’s unusual.’

She pushed her sleeve up and managed not to flinch when his finger brushed her wrist as he turned the delicate silver bracelet, peering at the design.

‘My sister gave it to me. It’s Arabic.’

‘Very unusual and pretty.’

‘Thanks.’ She pulled her arm away from his warm touch, opened her notebook and clicked her pen into action. ‘So, date and times.’

‘When will Jessica not be at the gallery? Don’t want to flood her world with amateurs.’

‘Oh.’ She bit her lip before grinning. ‘Tuesday morning Jessica is out from ten until twelve.’

‘Perfect, I’ve the group all morning, so can prepare them beforehand to make sure they are on their best behaviour.’ He scribbled a note in his diary, then squinted. ‘Hopefully, I can read that later.’

Nadia’s writing was as neat as her appearance. ‘If the gallery visit is useful, I could come and see their work on Thursday afternoon? I finish at three.’

‘I’ll not be with them until four, but I can arrange for one of the students to meet you at the entrance to the art building.’

‘Okay. We’ll confirm it on Tuesday morning.’ Nadia snapped her notebook shut and clicked her pen, placing them back in their compartment in her bag.

Jake pushed his diary into his pocket and then almost tore it pulling out his phone. ‘We should exchange phone numbers, in case there’s a problem.’

She gave him a gallery card. ‘My number is on the back.’

Jake entered the details into his phone and sent her a smiley icon.

Chapter Two

Dear Deenah,

After leaving you I sat on the bus, shaking, and fighting the urge to cry, surrounded by strangers, and travelling further from the world I knew.

I remember the sadness in your eyes at my flippant remark about being born into the wrong family. It was hurtful to you, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant as a slur on your decisions. You were happy. You know I wasn’t.

I needed to escape. I couldn’t pretend to be someone else any longer and how unfair it would’ve been to M if I had bowed to Father’s demands and married him. It sounds petty and selfish to say I left because I wanted to draw, but you know it was more than that. You are the best sister possible and one day I hope we can see each other again. I still have the bracelet you gave me. I wear it every day. It anchors me somehow.

GAZING AT THE SKY ABOVE the red-tiled rooftops on Tuesday morning, Nadia tapped her fingers on the back of her phone. Maybe she could text Jake and tell him she’d made a mistake and didn’t have time to help, but that would be a lie. She liked the idea of helping others and Jake was nice. She looked down at her bracelet. She wished she could talk to her sister.

When Nadia escaped her home at eighteen, she’d known her father would be angry but she’d not expected the quiet voice of her mother on the phone a few days later, explaining he had removed her name from the family. Despair filled her heart when her mother told her she had disrespected her father and shamed the family. The phone had clicked like a sharp knife on a plate, severing her from her previous life. Nadia had fallen to her knees and curled up with grief, unable to speak past the tightness in her throat. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in her family since and she’d perfected the art of being a listener, not a talker. Five years had dulled the ache in her heart, but it hadn’t changed the hope that one day she would see her sister again.

She remembered the delicate, hesitant touch of her sister’s fingers when she gave Nadia the bracelet, and a more recent memory of the gentle but firm warmth of Jake’s hand on her arm. Maybe she was ready to take another step away from her upbringing. She had learned not to flinch at the touch of a man’s hand. Could she accept more? She smiled and wiped sad thoughts from her face.

Jake and the group of students arrived at the gallery ten minutes after Jessica left. Twelve students looked more than she had anticipated, but Jake’s smile and handshake gave her the confidence to step forward and welcome them in. Then she hesitated. She didn’t know what to say.

‘Try to see beyond the painting,’ Jake said as he pointed at one large exhibit. ‘Imagine this on the wall over there, would it look as good? Is there enough space to stand back? Look at each artwork in this way. Discuss why they have been displayed as they have, and how you might do it differently.’ He waved them off to work in small groups.

‘But the room we have for display isn’t like this.’ A dark-haired student waved his hand around the room. ‘It’s dark, cramped and dirty.’

Nadia swallowed a lump of nervousness in her throat. ‘Come and see the other two gallery spaces,’ she said. They followed Nadia into a narrow corridor which led to a staircase. She stopped at the end of the corridor and waited for the students to appreciate the art on the walls. This had been her project entirely. Jessica took the credit, but it had been Nadia who had to sell the idea to the artist. She flicked off the lights.

‘When the paintings arrived, we had a problem. I’d overbooked the gallery, and this was the only space left. It’s dark, narrow, and had not been used as a gallery space before. However, Jessica said it was my problem to solve, so I did. What do you notice about the artwork?’

‘It’s illusionary.’

‘You need to walk past it to see the effect.’

‘You don’t need to stand back. The pictures would be lost in a larger space.’

Nadia smiled and the tight knot in her stomach loosened, these were people she could work with. ‘My thoughts exactly. There were two examples in his proposed set of pictures, I asked him for more and rescheduled his larger works for another time.’ She explained how she had arranged the lights and flicked different ones on so that they could see the shadows and highlights each set created. With all the lights on all the shadows were cancelled out and the illusions could be appreciated, with maximum effect.

They walked up the stairs to the third gallery, which was filled with natural light from the large windows overlooking the street. She left them to look at the display and returned with a painting from the narrow gallery.

‘Tell me what you think.’ The students noticed how the picture’s effect was diminished by the space around it. When they returned to the narrow gallery, she asked them to walk through in pairs and to chat as they passed the pictures. The students tried to do this, but they were distracted by the 3D effect, glancing from the corner of their eyes as they walked past.

‘There are fewer paintings than Paul wanted to exhibit, but once he experienced the walk-past he was delighted,’ Nadia explained. ‘Sometimes less is more. Maybe the small room you have would be better with fewer works of art. Paul has received commissions from this exhibition and has sold each of these on display.’

‘Is this his real name?’ One of the students pointed to the information card and laughed. ‘Paul Casso?’

‘He uses his middle name so that he can say he is P Casso.’ She grimaced. ‘I don’t think he needs the gimmick really, but...’

‘Anything that gets you noticed in the art world helps? Does it, Jake?’ One girl asked.

Jake was stepping past a painting and then stepping back, his face creased with concentration. He stopped when the room fell silent and all eyes were on him.

‘It’s fun.’ He stepped back again. ‘What’s the question?’

‘Is it useful to have a crazy name like P Casso to get noticed in the art world?’ Nadia grinned and pointed to the artist’s name.

‘Good question. Connections, gimmicks, and playing with your name can get you noticed, but it’s your art that will decide if it’s lasting fame because you are talented, or fleeting fame because you are amusing.’ He smiled at Nadia. ‘Any more questions for Nadia? Would you like her to see your work?’

A chorus of ‘yes’ filled the small space and Nadia, surprised by the student’s enthusiasm, nodded at Jake.

‘Good. On Thursday, you can show her our illustrious gallery space and discuss ideas, but we should be getting back now. I’m sure that Nadia has work to do.’

The students asked a few more questions and thanked Nadia for her time. She felt a warm glow of happiness as she watched them chatter their way down the road. The gallery was cold and empty, devoid of their imaginative and curious minds. She returned to her computer but sat for a while enjoying the feeling of having made a difference before attempting to complete the list of jobs Jessica had left her. Most of which she finished before Jessica returned fifteen minutes after Nadia’s hours finished. She didn’t apologise for being late, instead she glanced at the visitor’s book, raising her pencilled eyebrows at Nadia.

‘Is Jake sneaking in his students when I am not here?’

‘It was the group I’m going to help with presentation and display.’ Nadia bit her lip, waiting for Jessica to remind her she was supposed to be supporting them out of work hours.

‘It is about time he brought them to a place where they can learn how hard it is to be successful.’

Nadia nodded, picking up her bag. Although there was access to the apartment through the storeroom at the back of the first floor gallery, she always walked out of the front door, around the corner, and up the stairs. The key in the lock of the internal entrance ensured her privacy, but today, the apartment was too small for her thoughts. She collected the leather satchel containing her drawing pad and pencils and left to enjoy the sunshine. Pulling her scarf tight she walked fast as a gust of wind reminded her winter was not ready to relinquish its hold.

Finding a sheltered bench in the park, she leant back to people watch. One of the counsellors at the women’s refuge had taught her to focus on body language and imagine what people were thinking; it improved both her drawing skills and her understanding of people. Now it was a habit, and although she thought she had a good idea of most people she met, her drawings still lacked something. A spark of life, maybe? She thought about seeing the student’s art. Perhaps she’d find the answer there.

Nadia noticed a woman walking quickly with her head down, but her lips were moving as if she was reciting a to-do list in her head or perhaps she was wondering what to cook for dinner. An elderly man shuffled his feet and looked up into the trees. Was he remembering when he was a boy? Perhaps he and his friends used to run through the park and jump as high as possible, grabbing the lower branches of the young trees to swing on. Now the council trimmed the lower limbs of the wide-girthed trees to prevent accidents. Nadia heard the man sigh as he passed her without a flicker of acknowledgement of her presence. Sometimes she was like a ghost, watching but never seen. She sketched until her fingers were too cold to hold the pencils.

Back in her apartment, she looked through the afternoon’s drawings and grimaced.

Nadia’s stomach clenched as she strode across the university campus. Three of the students who had visited the gallery waved and walked across to meet her.

‘Hi Nadia. It’s this way.’ They introduced themselves and led her around the side of the modern block to a weather-pitted stone building. Their chatter and laughter eased her tension and by the time they reached the doors to ‘The Gallery Space’ she was enjoying herself.

‘Thanks for the tour the other morning, I learnt loads,’ Sandra said as she opened the door. ‘Try not to be too shocked. This is nothing like Platinum Gallery.’

Nadia blinked at the dark room full of tables, chairs, and screens, with art-work piled high on every surface. It was as far from a gallery space as could be imagined. She watched dust dance in the murky light filtering through the high windows.

‘I did try to warn you.’

Nadia grimaced and stepped over the threshold. ‘Is it always this cluttered?’

‘Yeah, it’s sort of used as a store-room til Jake decides we need to put on an exhibition.’ Carol, a dark-haired pixie of a girl waved her hands as she spoke. ‘What can we do? Our work looks dull in here. It’s horrid, right? We’re hoping you’ll agree and persuade Jake to give us a different room.’ They looked at her eagerly.

Nadia didn’t know Jake well enough to change the venue, but without the clutter, maybe it had potential. A cleaner space would inspire them to work harder on their presentation.

‘Stand next to me,’ Nadia said, and waited until they stepped to her side. ‘Use your imaginations and see the room as an empty space, a blank canvas if you like.’ She paused and watched their faces.

Carol screwed her nose up and squinted.

Marcus stared and shook his head. ‘Yep I see it. It looks like a second-hand, dirty canvas.’ He smirked and looked for her reaction.

‘That’s a start.’ Nadia watched him frown. Remembering his keen questions in the Gallery she asked, ‘What would you do if Jake gave you a dirty canvas to work on?’

Marcus shrugged. ‘Clean it, paint it white.’

Nadia gestured around the room. ‘Who does the art-work in here belong to? Is any of it for the exhibition?’

‘No, it’s old work, Jake doesn’t throw anything away,’ Carol answered.

‘Marcus. D’you think you could organise the screens to make a space for storing the artwork, most of the chairs and some of the tables? It needs to be as small as possible, and unobtrusive.’

He sauntered over to the pile and moved one of the screens. Its wheels screeched in protest and Sandra pressed her hands to her ears and winced.

‘Can you fix the wheels first?’ Sandra asked.

Marcus raised his eyebrows, turning his back on Sandra. ‘We could make a kind of false wall along this side.’

‘Sounds like a plan to me.’ Nadia nodded and smiled as he organised the other students, sending Sandra out to find some oil.

When Jake arrived, a false wall had been made and the room, although physically smaller, looked larger.

‘Oh no.’ Jake pushed his