AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Your portfolio.” I grasp the strap. “He needs to see it. Right now.”
So much for not knowing which image will be Rae’s last one.
He’d said he needed a real banger. Something to make readers turn back to the first page the moment they finished. He’d know it when he saw it.
Aleksander gives it to him by having nothing but empathy in his expression as he scans drawings of a child washed up by recent warfare. He also gives Rae what he needs by smiling at the giant version of me who holds hands with her. Then he blinks at the same giant offering a football to a Polish schoolboy with Glynn Harber in the background.
He flips pages faster then, seeing a pool of silver water. An otter and an owl. The tall chimneys of the school that is, and always will be, a haven for children who need a place of safety.
Now both journeys come full circle with me as the link between them. I’m in a clearing making the same mark with a hammer and nails as a Polish boy once did on the front of a diary.
“Olek W.”
Rae digs in his portfolio for a photocopy, and Aleksander touches childish handwriting with wonder. With recognition, I realise. With a fingertip that traces over the shortened version of his own name he once printed.
Aleksander says, “This is mine,” and Rae doesn’t only know a perfect final image when he sees it.
He goes ahead and draws it.
He spendsdays and days adding to his final drawing in this forest while I translate each time Aleksander gets emotional. His voice thickens often. Roughens. It’s good to return the favour by being here for him when memories are a combination of sweet to recall and tough to deal with.
“Yes,” Rae tells him. “The camp is still right there. Hayden cut a path into it for me. It’s pretty derelict now.”
I nod. “I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. That Dad hadn’t ever shown me where it was hidden.”
Aleksander has a potential reason for that. “Maybe because his father had a bad time. Was injured here.” He touches his temple. “He stayed isolated. Integrating wasn’t easy. Still wasn’t for me, even though I was born there. My world stopped at the camp gates. Not because it was a prison. Because we weren’t always welcome. Until…”
He next touches the edge of a mosaic Rae copied from one all three of us have stood on.
“He didn’t have the help to learn English that I did. The chances to make friends outside the camp.” Old eyes meet mine, but this comes out sounding almost childlike. “They really found the time capsule?” Worry comes next. “It was buried in a foundation. The headmaster said he would plant it there like a seed. That we could set down roots there. Has the building been demolished?” He seems resigned to this. “It was already old when I was there. I heard there was a fire.”
“No, it’s still there.” Rae finds the school website on his phone and shows it to him. “Look. They just built a new library. Renovated the art building too. I think the sports hall is next.”He pauses over a photo of the school pitch, then scrolls again only to stop dead.
“What is it?” I lean closer to see why Rae’s finger takes a turn to shake. “That’s my clearing.” I read out the heading. “‘Welcome to our new Forest School.’”
Rae meets my eyes. “It says they need a teacher.”
He has sounded certain about a lot in the last two days. Certain about us, and how we don’t need a deadline for finding a way to link our futures. He is also sure enough about this to jab a finger at me.
“They’ve already got a teacher. I’m looking right at him. All you have to do is tell Luke you want it.” Then he’s understanding. “I get why you felt like you couldn’t commit.”
Dad didn’t get a whole lot of seasons after his diagnosis. I wasn’t sure I would either.
Rae is understanding with Kirsty too when she brings the girls to camp with us one evening. He gives us space to read reports from specialists confirming how unlikely it is I’ll follow in Dad’s footsteps. Rae keeps the girls distracted while she and I talk through possibilities, and I repeat what has been on my mind since my laugh boomed out like Mitch’s. “Did you know heading the ball on purpose has been banned in competition for kids?”
She nods.
“Do you know why?” She didn’t, so I list how repeated concussive events can accumulate only to show up later. How no one can turn back the clock on early damage forming, but it can be mitigated.
“What with?”
“Lifestyle adjustments.”
“Like?”
“Like reducing stress and getting more rest. And by having plenty of peace and quiet.” That describes the opposite of mynoisy, stressful, feast-or-famine workload lately, most of which was self-inflicted. “I felt like I had to do as much as I could just in case…”
I can’t pretend to be a doctor, but my hands haven’t shaken since I let go of a shit ton of worry and slept like a log for days out here. The only shaky thing left is her smile. “We’ll find out the reason, love.” She sniffs. “We’ll face whatever it is together.”
