Licence to Dream (3 page)

‘Well, I like getting my hands dirty and making things.’

‘I blame my father for that. I should have realised where all that do-it-yourself stuff was leading and put a stop to it years ago.’

In the end, after the arguments had raged for weeks and Meriel had become thin and drawn, her blond hair as brittle as dried straw and her eyes cloudy green pools of unhappiness, Grandpop took the girl aside. ‘You’ll never win, lass.’

‘But I’d go mad stuck in an office all day.’

‘There are times in life when you have to recognise you’re beaten, love. If you don’t train as an accountant, your mother won’t support you in anything else, so you won’t get your art diploma, either way. You’ll have to leave school and work in a shop or a factory. That’d be even worse for someone with a good brain like yours. And don’t think your dad will stand up to her. He didn’t for himself and he won’t for you.’ He patted Meriel’s back and stared out of the window, allowing time for his words to sink in.

After a few minutes she sniffed back an angry tear and slipped her arm through his. ‘But I love art so
much,
Grandpop. You don’t know how much.’

He put his arm round her. ‘I can guess. But you sometimes have to go the long way round to get what you want. And even then, some of us never get it.’

She stood mouse still. She knew from chance remarks how much he had hated his job as an insurance salesman, and could only guess how he chafed now at the restrictions which age and living on the pension had set upon him, though he never complained. 

‘Things are better nowadays than when I was a young fellow,’ the gentle, loving voice went on. ‘You can get a second chance at life nowadays, what with the Open University and all. So you go to university, love, and do what your mother says. Become an accountant.
But only for the time being.
Once you’ve got your independence, you can study art at night school.’

‘I shall hate doing accountancy.’

‘You’ll enjoy the challenge if you set your mind to it. Bear in mind that it’s only for a few years. And in the meantime, no one can stop you from having a hobby, can they? In fact, you should tell your mum that you’ll only agree to study accounting if you can still enjoy painting and such in your spare time. Once you agree, she’ll give you back your art things.’ Her mother had confiscated all her art materials and locked them up in the big cedarwood chest at the foot of her bed when the dispute first erupted.

Meriel sighed and brushed away a tear. She looked at him in a final mute appeal but he shook his head.

‘I can’t work miracles, lass. No one can. She’s got the money, however much she pleads poverty, and your father needs all his brass for his new family now. Two young sons, at his age!’

Meriel’s shoulders sagged and tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘Well, I’m going to get away from home as soon as I graduate, as far away as I possibly can so she can’t interfere in the rest of my life. And one day I
will
make my living from art.’

‘I’m sure you will. I’ll come to your first exhibition and boast to everyone that you’re my clever granddaughter.’

He stood up, easing his stiff joints into movement. ‘I’ll go and have a word with our Denise now, tell her I’ve persuaded you to study accounting on condition you can keep on with your art as a hobby. I’ll make her see that she has to give way on that, at least.’

‘It’s not fair, though,’ Meriel swiped away another tear.

‘No, lass. It’s not. But give her a year or two and she’ll be so wrapped up in being a grandmother and telling your Helen what to do with her children and husband that she’ll stop trying to live your life for you.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘She was upset when your father left her, more upset than you’ll ever realise. In her own way, she loved him.’

 ‘She had a funny way of showing it, then.’

 ‘Aye, well, that’s our Denise for you. She’s not one to flaunt her emotions. But she loves you, too. Never doubt that.’

‘Hah!’

Meriel went to study accounting in Newcastle, because it was further away from home than Manchester. Once she had started the course, she followed her Grandpop’s advice and focused on gaining good grades. She took a variety of part-time jobs during the holidays so that she could continue to buy the necessary art materials.

The situation suddenly became more relaxed during Meriel’s second year, because Denise found herself a man friend. She was oddly coy when she told Meriel about Ralph. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Of course not. I’m glad for you. Especially about the dancing. You always used to love ballroom dancing.’

‘Yes, I did. But your father – well, he was born with two left feet. Ralph and I are going to classes. We’re learning Latin American.’ Denise twirled round then blushed and laughed self-consciously.

After that, she didn’t nag quite as much about anything.

Most of Meriel’s spare time at college, what little she had left after studying and her part-time job, was spent drawing and painting. She managed to fit in one or two evening courses in art and read a lot of self-study books about various techniques, trying them out as best she could in the privacy of her bed sitter.

She emailed Grandpop several times a week and he emailed back – warm, loving messages, with occasional pieces of sensible advice proffered tactfully.

* * * *

 There were guys at college, and dates – but not as many as there could have been.

‘What’s wrong with Jim?’ a girlfriend asked one day.

‘He’s a faker, always trying to sound better than he is.’

‘And Luke. Surely you can’t have anything against him? He’s very good-looking.’

‘Yes, but he just doesn’t – ’ Meriel shrugged. ‘There’s no spark between us.’

‘Oh, you’re hopeless.’

‘Yes, I am.’ She laughed, but she was beginning to worry about that. Was she hopeless? Why wasn’t she attracted to the guys who fancied her? She pulled a face. Because she wasn’t into quick gropes, because she wanted someone who would talk to her, really talk to her.

Only once did she progress to intimacy and that turned out to be rather a disappointment. She’d expected . . . more.

She wasn’t going down that path again.

* * * *

Just before she graduated, Meriel received a letter from her mother.

I thought I’d better warn you that my father isn’t well. It’s cancer, I’m afraid. He’s bearing up bravely, as you’d expect. He’s only got a few months, the doctors say . . .

All Meriel’s escape plans evaporated overnight. When she graduated, she found a job with an accounting firm in her home town and went back to live with her mother.

 Grandpop was much thinner, his colour poor. She tried to swallow her anguish at the sight of him but knew she hadn’t hidden her feelings well.

‘Come down to my workshop and let me show you a new piece I’m working on,’ he said quietly.

Her grandma nodded and turned to her knitting again, but Meriel saw her blinking rapidly.

In the cellar, Grandpop looked at her with a wry smile. ‘I see your mother’s told you.’

Meriel tried to speak and burst into tears.

He gave her a hug then put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. Looking her in the eyes, he said quietly, ‘We all move on, lass. It’s only natural. Save your worritting for something you can change. I’ve had a good, long life – and I’ve had you. You’ve brought me such joy. A man couldn’t have asked for a better granddaughter.’

And of course, that made her weep even more.

After that, she didn’t weep in front of him again. If he could be brave, so could she.

* * * *

A subsidiary benefit to living at home was that Meriel was able to start saving money, money she intended to use one day to achieve her heart’s desire, but of course she didn’t tell her mother that.

‘Why don’t you buy some new clothes?’ Denise would grumble, ‘Something more colourful.’

Or, ‘I can’t think why you still mess about with paints. Honestly, at your age, you should be focusing your efforts on attracting young men.’ She smiled at herself in the mirror, smoothing out her skirt. ‘Ralph always says how smart I look.’

‘Mum, for the millionth time, I don’t care about keeping a man interested. And anyway, I’ve been out with Grant a few times, haven’t I?’

Denise pulled a face. ‘That one’s no use to you. He’s been on the dole for months.’

‘He’s an artist.’

‘Exactly. It’s not possible to make a living as an artist. I told you that years ago and I was right. I don’t like to think of my taxes going to pay for lazy so-and-sos like him.’

‘He’s a brilliant artist and one day he’ll be famous. I envy him the freedom to pursue his dream. One day I’ll do the same.’

Denise let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘I thought you’d grow out of that art stuff, but you haven’t, have you?’

‘No. And I never will.’ Meriel stared steadily at her mother. ‘You should have let me study commercial art, at least.’

‘I did what I thought right at the time and I still think it was the best choice. You have a really good job and the wages you’re earning are far more than I get.’

‘And look how bored I am by that sort of work. I’d better warn you that I’m going to art classes at the local college next semester.’

‘You can have any hobby you want, especially now you’ve got your degree.’

Meriel sighed and gave up trying to discuss things. Her mother would never change. But Meriel hadn’t changed, either. She was still determined to make a future for herself in art. She didn’t know how she’d do it, but she would.

She’d stay at home, though, as long as Grandpop needed her.

* * * *

No one was surprised when Ben opted to study plant science and landscape design. In the first year at university in Sydney he met Sandy and that was it. The two of them were instantly inseparable, living together in the final year and getting married soon after they graduated, laughing at how poor they were.

They moved back to Queensland to live, because Sandy’s family came from there, too. He’d enjoyed Sydney, but it just wasn’t home. If there had been any way of making a living, he’d have gone back to York, in Western Australia, which still felt like home to him. But it was too small a place for what he and Sandy wanted to do.

A year later they set up a small landscaping business together in Brisbane. Ben did the design and the grunt work while Sandy did the paperwork and helped out with the lighter jobs.

‘We were going to have babies,’ he said ruefully as they worked through the accounts one evening – or rather Sandy worked through them and he explained what his scrawls meant and hunted for receipts.

‘We can have babies later, once the business is on its feet. How’s the new design going?’

He beamed at her. ‘I had a brilliant idea.’ By the time he’d finished explaining his design, it was time for bed.

* * * *

‘You should go away for a holiday, love,’ Grandpop said suddenly.

Meriel pulled a face. ‘I’d rather stay here and take you out for day trips.’

‘A week or two won’t hurt. You know I’m in remission after the latest course of treatment. Look, I saw this on line.’

He’d found a special offer on a package tour to Spain. It’d been raining so much lately she succumbed to the temptation.

She thoroughly enjoyed the warm climate and relaxed lifestyle, but wasn’t tempted into a holiday affair, even though there were two single guys on the trip who kept trying to chat her up. Her sketch book went with her everywhere and she enjoyed herself for months afterwards trying to re-capture the play of bright sunlight on water and frolicking bodies, in a series of paintings.

The experience gave her something else, a longing to live in a warmer climate. The sun was never that bright in England and the heat in Spain hadn’t bothered her as it had some people on the tour. For all her skin was fair, she hadn’t even got sunburned, just developed a light golden tan that looked great with her blond hair.

She came back with the knowledge that there was a whole world out there just waiting to be explored. But she couldn’t do it yet, not while Grandpop needed her.

* * * *

Two years later Ben and Sandy again postponed starting a family because they’d bought a run-down old house and were renovating it, splitting it into two halves for rental purposes.

‘I feel guilty making you work so hard,’ he said.

‘You don’t make me do anything. It’s my choice. I was the one who found the house and I want to have the security of rental properties behind us before I start having children. These houses will pay for themselves, you’ll see. Two more years and we’ll have our twins.’

A few months later they went to a fancy dinner at her uncle Rod’s invitation. He said they’d meet some useful people there who might like to use their landscaping services.

Ben was running late, so Sandy drove to the hotel on her own and he caught up with her there.

‘You look gorgeous tonight. I can’t wait to get you home,’ he whispered as they made their way out to their cars.

She smiled a promise as only Sandy could.

On the way home a four-wheel drive ran a set of red lights and smashed into Sandy’s car. Ben braked violently, flung the door open and ran towards the wreck, but she was unconscious and trapped.

‘I’ve already phoned for an ambulance,’ a stranger said.

‘Thanks. This is my wife.’

‘Tough.’

There was little Ben could do to help her and he stood in helpless agony, holding her hand through the broken window as he listened to a man groaning and cursing in the other vehicle.

It seemed a long time till the ambulance and police arrived, even longer before they managed to free Sandy from the wreckage.

Ben followed the ambulance to hospital, leaving his car in the first vacant parking bay and running headlong across to the casualty department. ‘My wife? She was just brought in after an accident.’

‘The doctors are examining her now. If I could just take some particulars?’

Impatiently he gave her the information, keeping an eye on the area behind big semi-transparent doors. ‘Can I go in to see her now?’