Page 152 of London, Can You Wait?

Fifty

Three days later

“Thank fuck we’re not sending it out tomorrow,” said Lucy.

“Why?” Alex typed ‘Proposal’ in the subject line of a new email.

“Hello? Friday the 13th? There’s no way in hell I’d send our finished masterpiece out into this nasty world on that spooky day.”

“I didn’t think of that.” Alex typed their log line and attached their graphic novel’s submissions agreement, synopsis, and story outline to the email. “Are you okay to fly tomorrow, though? Doesn’t that go against your superstitious hocus pocus?”

“Majorly, but I have no choice. Harry’s mum is throwing a surprise party for Budgie on Sunday.”

Alex attached six pages of Lucy’s art to the email. “Want to look it over before I hit send?”

She leaned over Alex’s shoulder, her fingers sliding over the trackpad. “Yep. Yep. Looks good. Shame we can’t send it to Marvel or DC.”

“I know, but a smaller publisher might be the perfect fit for us. With the biggies, we’d be fighting with Wonder Woman or Captain Marvel to even get noticed.” Alex’s finger hovered over the send key. “Ready?”

Lucy took a deep breath and crossed her fingers. “Hit it.”

Alex’s middle finger did the deed, and the familiar whoosh erupted from her laptop’s speakers. “It’s all happening!”

“Too right!” Lucy beamed. “Go on. Send another one.”

Alex opened a fresh email and typed in the next address.

“Lex, this has been the best week of my life…”

“Aw, babe! I knew you would love it here. It’s so loud and busy and brash—remind you of someone?”

“Ha, very funny. Well, that’s part of it, but I also feel like I walked in Gran’s shoes this week.”

Alex glanced up from her laptop, puzzled.

“She lived here, when she was twenty-one.”

“Seriously? Lucy, that is wicked.”

“Yeah, it is. When you moved to London…I couldn’t help but think of Gran, leaving home alone at the same age, starting over in another country.”

“How long did she stay here?” Alex abandoned her typing, turning to her friend.

“Not long, just over a year. It was the late sixties. She rented a room in Brooklyn, and she tried to find work as a secretary, but people weren’t exactly open-minded about hiring Jamaican immigrants. She moved to London when she could afford it.”

“I had no clue. Wow, she was so brave.” Alex’s eyes flicked to her inbox and back to Lucy. “Did your gran draw, too?”

“Not even a doodle. She refused to buy me colouring books. She gave me colouring pencils and blank paper instead, saying, ‘Draw what your heart sees.’ I was so little, I had no clue what she meant! I scribbled at first, but then I started drawing people with huge heads.”

Alex laughed. “Like aliens? Did she watch sci-fi with you?”

“No, not until I was twelve—the Doctor Who reboot. Maybe my early art was inspired by my secret alien abduction!”

“Now that would explain a lot…” Alex raised an eyebrow.

Lucy smiled. “I drew all the time, and Gran encouraged me, even during uni applications. The careers advisor pushed me towards nursing, but Gran wouldn’t have it. She marched up there, full of piss and vinegar: ‘My Lucy is an ARTIST. She’s going to art school.’ She believed in me.”

Tears glistened in her eyes as she spun her ruby and gold ring. “I miss her so much. If I could be even half the woman she was…”