The Tearsmith: A Novel
Chapter 7

Have you ever seen a shooting star?

Have you ever seen them shining in the night?

She was like that.

Rare. Tiny and powerful.

With a smile that shone so brightly

Even as she crumbled.

There was a strong wind that morning.

It bent the blades of grass and wiped the sky clean of clouds. The air was as clear and fresh as citrus detergent. February had always been mild and warm around here.

Rigel’s shadow slid along the asphalt in front of me like a panther formed from molten lead. I watched how he stepped forward precisely, one foot in front of the other. Even the way he walked was domineering.

I had kept my distance from him ever since we left the house, dawdling behind warily as he walked ahead without even a single glance back.

I had not felt peace since the incident the previous evening.

I had gone to bed with his voice ringing in my head, and woke up feeling it in my stomach. No matter how hard I tried to get rid of it, I could still feel his smell on my skin.

I thought again about the quote he had underlined in that book, the words like an indecipherable song. The more I tried to make out a melody, however, the more I crumbled underneath the jarring dissonance of his actions.

A moment later, I collided into his back and yelped. I hadn’t realised that he had stopped. I put a hand to my nose, and he looked at me over his shoulder, annoyed.

‘Sorry,’ I burst out. I bit my tongue and looked away from him. I still hadn’t said anything to him since last night and it was embarrassing to blunder around him like this.

Rigel started walking again and I waited for him to get a few paces ahead before doing the same.

After a few minutes had passed, we crossed the bridge over the river. It was old, one of the first things to have been built in the town, and one of the only landmarks I’d noticed from afar the day we arrived. A few construction labourers were busy with roadworks. Norman complained every day that they made him late for work, and I could understand why.

When we reached the school gates, I noticed something on the side of the road, something that pulled at my delicate heartstrings, stirring my childlike soul.

An oblivious little snail was recklessly slithering over the asphalt. Cars were thundering past, but she didn’t seem to notice a thing. She was moving so slowly that she would have been squashed under car tyres so, without even thinking, I launched myself in her direction. I would never understand what came over me, but maybe I was most myself when I wasn’t pretending to be like other people. It was a necessity for me to try to help such a small creature. It was pure gut instinct.

I stepped down from the sidewalk and picked her up before she tried to cross the road and meet her death. My hair fell over my face, and when I saw that she was all right and all in one piece, my face broke into a spontaneous smile.

‘I’ve got you,’ I whispered, realising too late how stupid I’d been. I heard the rumbling of an engine. A car was speeding towards me from behind. My heart leapt into my throat. I didn’t have time to turn around before something forcefully yanked me out of the way.

I found myself back on the sidewalk, my eyes wide and staring, and the furious sound of a car horn blaring in my ears.

A hand had grabbed the shoulder of my sweater and was still gripping it firmly. When I met the eyes looming above me, I stopped breathing.

Rigel was watching me with his jaw clenched, his gaze as cutting as steel blades. Suddenly, he let me go, almost with disgust, and the now baggy part of my sweater fell down to settle back on my shoulder.

‘Jesus,’ he snarled through gritted teeth. ‘What were you thinking?’

I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t say anything. I felt full of disbelief and confusion. Before I could do anything, he turned his back on me and headed towards the gates, leaving me standing there.

I watched him walk away, with the little snail still cradled in my hands. There were a lot of girls standing around, watching him go and murmuring. After the fight on the first day, the boys warily let him pass, while the girls ate him up with their eyes as if hoping he’d hurl himself at them, too.

‘Nica!’

Billie was coming over to meet me. Before she got to me, I hurried to make sure the snail was safe, laying her down on a low wall close to a shrub, ensuring she wasn’t at risk of rolling back down into the road.

‘Hi,’ I greeted my friend as she passed a group of giddy freshmen. There was more hubbub than normal that day. Everyone seemed noisier, rowdier, livelier. I sensed something strange in the air, a sort of exhilaration that I couldn’t quite make sense of.

‘Watch out,’ she warned as another overexcited group of students ran past us.

‘Er…what’s happening?’ I asked as we started to walk off together. It was a Friday like any other, and I couldn’t understand what could have caused such excitement.

‘Don’t you know what day it is on Monday?’ Billie lifted a hand to wave to Miki, who was waiting in front of the gates. Billie waited for me to respond for a moment as I thought it through, trying to grasp at something that was obviously evading me.

‘It’s…the fourteenth,’ I murmured eventually, not understanding.

‘And that means nothing to you?’

I felt I must have been being rather dumb, because every girl of my age around me seemed to know full well what day Monday was. They seemed to know it viscerally. But I wasn’t like girls my age. I had had an unusual upbringing which made even the most normal events seem alien to me.

‘Oh, come on! It’s the most romantic day of the year,’ she said in a sing-song voice. ‘Couples celebrate it…’

Suddenly, I understood, and blushed. ‘Oh…the holiday for lovers…Valentine’s Day.’

‘Bingo!’ Billie squealed, right into Miki’s face. Miki threw her a dirty glare from under her hood, the smoke from her cigarette blown away by the wind.

‘Did you eat sugar sachets for breakfast again?’ she asked scathingly.

‘Hello, Miki,’ I greeted her quietly.

Her eyes met mine and I slowly lifted a hand, trying not to be too forward. She took a slow drag of her cigarette, but, like every morning, said nothing back.

‘I was trying to explain to Nica why everyone’s so excited,’ Billie said, elbowing her. ‘After all, Garden Day only happens once a year!’

I tilted my head.

‘Garden Day? What’s that?’

‘Oh, only the most anticipated event of the school year!’ Billie replied, chastely linking arms with me and Miki. ‘A day that stirs up something in everyone!’

‘A day that stirs up vomit,’ Miki retorted, but Billie ignored her.

‘Every year, on Valentine’s Day, a committee sets up a special pavilion dedicated to…roses! Every student can anonymously give a rose to whoever they want, and every colour has a different meaning! Oh, you’ve got to see it, bouquets of all colours flying all over the place! The popular girls, the sporty ones…One year, even Coach Willer found his cupboard full of roses…some people swore that they’d seen the principal sneaking around…’

Miki rolled her eyes as Billie jumped about, giggling.

‘Oh, it’s a day of drama! Declarations of love, broken hearts…It’s Garden Day!’

‘It seems cute…’ I said with a little smile.

‘It’s like a day in a loony bin,’ Miki muttered, and Billie gave her a gentle push.

‘Oh, won’t you stop sulking? Don’t listen to her, Nica,’ she waved her hand. ‘Last year she got four beautiful roses…all of them scarlet…’

She poked her in the ribs and sniggered. Miki squished the cigarette stub between her fingers then flicked it away. It landed close to the little wall where I had left the snail.

At that moment, I noticed a boy sitting in just that spot. I stopped, watched him for a moment, and when I realised what I had seen, my eyes widened a little.

Miki and Billie started to bicker, absorbed in teasing each other. I turned towards them indecisively, but before they could notice me, while they were distracted, I seized the opportunity.

I breathlessly headed towards the stranger. The trees behind him were swaying in the wind, casting a dancing lattice of shadows on him.

‘Umm…Excuse me…’ I cheeped.

He didn’t hear me. He was listening to music, looking down at his phone. I took another small step forward and stretched out my hand. ‘Sorry…excuse me?’

I saw his brow furrow and he looked up. He squinted against the sun and looked at me, a little annoyed.

‘Yes?’ he asked.

‘The snail…’

‘Huh?’

I interlaced my fingers under my chin, my eyes a little wide.

‘I…well…can I…can I take the snail off your trousers?’

He blinked several times, staring at me with slightly flared nostrils.

‘Sorry…what?’

‘I want to hold the snail…’

‘You want to hold…my snail?’

‘Yes, but…slowly…’ I hurried to say as he stared at me, disconcerted. ‘It’s just because I left her here after I’d picked her up from the road and…if you sit still, I just want to put her somewhere safe…’

‘What on earth are you…Oh, shit!’

He noticed the slimy trail on his jeans and his headphones fell off. He jumped to his feet, disgusted, and I leapt forward as he tried to pluck her off.

‘Wait!’

‘Piss off!’

‘Please!’

I plucked her off before he let her fall to the ground, or worse, trod on her. The boy lurched backwards, staring at her in my hands with a horrified grimace.

‘Damn it! Of all the places it could have gone! Gross!’

The snail curled up into her shell and I threw him a slightly offended look. I checked that her shell wasn’t cracked and sheltered her in my hands, keeping her in their warmth.

‘She’s shy…’ I muttered, slightly peevish. A part of me hoped that he hadn’t heard me, but I hadn’t spoken quietly enough.

‘Excuse me?’ he asked indignantly, quickly growing furious.

‘She didn’t do it on purpose,’ I defended her faintly. ‘She doesn’t understand. You know?’

He stared at me, incredulous and disgusted. I felt like an infant, small and strange, like a little girl stuck in a world that others would always look at with that same incredulity and disgust.

‘She’s not gross,’ I continued quietly, as if I was defending a part of myself. ‘She’s a very fragile creature…she can only defend herself. She’s got no way of hurting anything or anyone.’

My hair tickled the sides of my face as I stayed there with my head slightly to one side. ‘Sometimes she comes out when it rains. She’s a sign that rain and storms are coming…She feels them, you know? Before anyone else does.’

I slowly moved towards the little wall, holding her close to my chest. ‘She’s safe in her shell. She’s at home there.’ I stooped down to the bottom of a tree nearby, in the corner of the soccer pitch behind the goal, where no one ever went. ‘But if her shell ever cracked, the splinters would get stuck inside and they’d end up killing her. She wouldn’t be able to survive it. No way. Because it’s her shelter…the only refuge she has. It’s sad, isn’t it?’ I murmured, upset. ‘The thing that keeps her safe is also what can hurt her the most.’

I carefully placed her down close to the roots. She was still hiding in her shell, too scared to emerge, and I moved the soil beside her a little, trying to uncover a moist patch for her.

‘There we are,’ I whispered, smiling slightly. I mustered all the tenderness that my mom had taught me.

I got back to my feet, slowly tucking my hair behind my ears. When I looked up, I saw that the boy had been watching me all that time.

‘Nica, hey!’ Billie was waving from the entrance. ‘What are you up to? Come on, it’s getting late!’

‘I’m coming!’ I tightened my backpack straps with both hands, and looked towards the boy, intimidated. ‘Bye,’ I said quietly, before running away.

He didn’t reply, but I felt him watching me as I entered the building.

—

‘Do you want to come over to mine for lunch today?’ I heard Billie ask.

I dropped the pencil case I was putting in my backpack, and hurried to grab it, watching Billie with flushed cheeks. The invitation had caught me unawares.

‘My grandma really wants you to. She saw you outside school the other day and almost had a stroke! She says you’re so thin. She’s been cooking all morning. I don’t think she’ll take no for an answer. But only if you want, obviously.’

‘You…you’re sure?’ I asked uncertainly as we left the classroom. I didn’t know what to say. I always felt the stinging fear that I was too much, that everyone wanted to be rid of me, that deep down they didn’t really want me to be there.

But Billie was kind, waved her hand and smiled at me.

‘Obviously! Grandma almost dragged me out of bed this morning, pointed at me, and said, “Tell your friend that she’s our guest today!” She says you look like you haven’t tasted her potato pie – what a sacrilege!’ She giggled and threw me a look. ‘So, you’re coming?’

‘First…I should ask permission. You know, check if it’s all right…’

‘Of course!’ she replied, as I took out a scrap of paper with Anna’s phone number written on it.

I headed towards reception, where I asked politely if I could make a phone call.

‘To my family,’ I specified to the receptionist, and when I saw her nod in response I was overwhelmed by a feeling of pride and happiness.

Anna picked up after three rings, and not only did she calmly agree, but she was even happy that I would have company. She told me I could stay out as long as I wanted and come back whenever I was ready, and my appreciation for her grew even stronger. She trusted me, she was measured and easy-going. She worried a lot, but her concern wasn’t suffocating – she respected my freedom in a way that was very important to me.

‘Perfect, I’ll let Grandma know!’ Billie trilled, tapping off a message on her phone.

I felt a surge of lightness. I was smiling so hard that I could even feel my eyes crinkling as I realised she was offering me the opportunity to spend time together.

‘Thank you,’ I said, and she grinned.

‘Don’t even mention it! It’s us who should be thanking you!’

‘No one has ever invited me over before…’

Her eyes lingered on mine, as if she’d suddenly been reminded of something important, but then she was forced to move out of the way as several excited girls ran past us. In the corridor, I saw people emptying their lockers, leaving them unlocked as they rushed away.

‘Garden Day is just around the corner,’ Billie smiled. ‘They’re setting up the pavilion for the roses in the gym. Then, on Monday, the members of the committee will go round the school handing them out.’

‘But why is everyone emptying their lockers?’ I asked, not understanding. ‘Why are they leaving them open?’

‘Oh, it’s sort of a tradition! Some people deliver their roses themselves, before the event. The boldest ones, you know. Or maybe just the show-offs…But anyway, people can leave their lockers unlocked, so that anyone can leave them a rose between lessons if they want to. Basically, it’s a good compromise for people who are a bit shy! And it’s fun to replace that someone’s left you a rose. And to rack your brains over who it could have been, who’s thinking of you, who’s not thinking of you, what colour the rose is! It’s like, “he loves me, he loves me not.” ’

‘You really like this event,’ I observed. ‘Don’t you?’

Billie giggled and shrugged. ‘Who doesn’t? Everyone seems drunk on it! The girls go crazy to compete over who gets the most roses…and the cutest boys are in high demand! It’s like watching a documentary show about vultures!’

I raised my eyebrows and she burst out laughing.

She carried on telling me anecdotes about past Garden Days as we walked towards the exit.

‘Wait,’ I stopped her, rifling through my pockets. ‘The paper with Anna’s number…I must have left it at reception.’

I still hadn’t memorised Anna’s phone number, so it was the only way I had of contacting her. I apologised, embarrassed by my absentmindedness. I promised Billie that I’d be back soon, and started to retrace my steps. I didn’t want to make her wait long, so I quickly went to reception, and luckily found the scrap of paper under the counter. I stuffed it back in my pocket, relieved, and turned back around.

But I bumped into someone in the corridor. A boy. He was being really rowdy. He charged past me, and the angry tension of his body was so intense that he was drawing looks from lots of other people. I felt my stomach churning and attributed it to his blatant rage – that charged, nervous sort of anger portended violence and had always frightened me.

‘You!’ he roared. ‘What the fuck did you say to my girlfriend?’

He had come to a stop outside a door. I recognised it with a gut-wrenching sense of foreboding – it was the music room. I knew that it should have been empty at that time, but I could sense who was inside. Several people were gathered around, drawn in by the unfolding drama. When I got close, driven by an inexplicable force, I got confirmation that it was, in fact, Rigel.

He was sitting on a bench, silent and impervious. Pianos had a strange lure for him that was difficult to understand. I wouldn’t have described it as a passion, it was more of a calling that he had never been able to resist.

‘D’you hear me? I’m talking to you!’

I was sure that he’d heard him, but Rigel didn’t seem all that bothered. He tilted his head to one side, and looked him up and down, extremely calmly.

‘I saw you, you were harassing her,’ the boy got even closer to him. ‘Don’t you dare, you hear me?’ he threatened.

Rigel’s expression was impenetrable, as if he was hardly being confronted at all. But this didn’t reassure me. Black angel’s wings were furled around his body, hidden and invisible to everyone else. I feared the moment when he would spread them out and reveal his worst.

‘Don’t think you can do whatever the hell you want just because you’re new. It doesn’t work like that here.’

‘And who says how it works?’ Rigel asked sarcastically. ‘You?’

He fixed his eyes on him and got to his feet. He was taller than him, but most intimidating was the absence of any warmth in his shark-like eyes.

‘If I were you, I’d have other worries,’ he retorted. ‘Maybe ask your girlfriend why she was so intent on wasting my time…’

He moved past him, and the boy clenched his fists in a blind fury.

‘What the fuck did you say?’ he snarled as Rigel turned his back to him, picking up the sheet music from the piano. ‘Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t finished here!’ he screamed, beside himself. ‘And look at me when I’m speaking to you, asshole!’

He grabbed him aggressively by the shoulder, but as soon as he touched him, I wished that he hadn’t. The next moment, a hand was clasped around his neck and his face was smashed into the piano with shocking brutality. A terrible noise exploded through the air. My heart was thumping in my chest and I could feel someone near me holding their breath.

My heart leapt into my throat as Rigel dug his nails into the boy’s scalp and a screeching wail tore out of him. He branded his silent and icy fury into the boy’s skull and the next moment, as suddenly as he had grabbed him, he let him go. The boy fell to the ground, stunned, unable to stand back up. I was frozen by how quickly Rigel had reacted, how forcefully he had gripped him and how much he had hurt him.

Rigel walked around him slowly, bending over to pick up the sheet music that had fallen to the ground. No one was breathing.

‘Your girlfriend took a photo of me,’ he drawled. ‘She probably didn’t tell you. Seeing as you’re here, tell her not to do it again.’

Then he noticed that I was there too, and his eyes fixed on me.

‘But make sure to do it kindly, of course,’ he added sarcastically.

He left the room before any teachers could arrive. I stayed rooted to the spot with my pulse thumping in my wrists. I looked around me and saw several girls watching him walk away, fearful but no less bewitched by his enigmatic, violent appeal.

He had just revealed how brutal, cold and callous he could be.

And yet, every girl around me, despite everything, would still have happily let themselves be gobbled up by that dangerous mystery emanating from his eyes.

When I went back outside, shaken, there was a strange taste in my mouth. I could still see the whole scene playing out in front of me…

‘There you are!’ Billie greeted me with a smile. ‘Did you replace it?’

I blinked, trying not to show how disturbed I was. Rigel created unfathomable, worrying feelings in me.

‘Yes,’ I whispered. I bit my lip and looked away, trying not to let her see.

‘We’d better get going,’ she urged. The huge Wrangler was waiting right in the middle of the busy road, with angry drivers and motorcyclists lining up behind it. ‘Seems like it’s getting tense.’

‘Hold on, are we not waiting for Miki?’

‘Oh, no, she’s not coming,’ she replied calmly. ‘She can’t make it today.’

I had thought it was going to be the three of us…

We crossed through the gates and rushed to the car.

When I opened the door, Billie’s grandma threw us a glance from behind her sunglasses.

‘Hi, Grandma! How’s your hip been today?’

‘No chattering, get in,’ she ordered authoritatively, and we obeyed. I settled into the back seat, staring at her with wide eyes.

‘This is Nica,’ Billie introduced me as her grandma started the engine. I lifted a hand shyly, and she looked at me in the rear-view mirror. The instinctive fear of not being liked pierced my heart. I was worried that I wouldn’t live up to her expectations, whatever they might be.

‘Hi there, dear,’ she greeted me sweetly, making me relax.

Relieved, I smiled. I decided to finally let myself enjoy the moment, and pushed the thought of Rigel far away.

—

Billie’s house wasn’t too far from school. She lived in a quiet neighbourhood close to the river, on such a narrow street that the Wrangler could hardly squeeze through.

We had to climb up a few steps to get to a dainty little red door, beside which stood a brass umbrella stand.

Their apartment was small but welcoming, with walls that were covered with slightly crooked photos and paintings. There were wooden beams on the ceiling and the threadbare carpet created an intimate atmosphere that made me feel warm and enveloped. There was a mouth-watering smell of something sautéing in the kitchen. I ate until I was fit to burst, and discovered that Billie’s grandmother, underneath her slightly grouchy demeanour, was actually a deeply affectionate, caring and maternal person.

She made sure I took a second helping of pie, and asked me how long I’d lived in the area. I replied that I came from an institute, and when I told her with a hopeful smile that I was going through the process of being adopted, a profound sweetness filled her expression. I told her about the day I had met Anna, the morning when I’d seen her at the bottom of the stairs, and the walk we’d taken around the institute grounds that sunny afternoon.

Billie’s grandmother listened attentively, without interrupting me once. Then, when I’d finished speaking, she got up, came around the table and gave me another portion of pie.

After lunch, Billie took me upstairs to show me her room.

Before I entered, she lowered the blinds and flicked a light switch.

Inside the room, a hundred thousand sparkles burst across the walls, and I held my breath. Reflections of light spun around, dancing through a labyrinth of photographs.

‘Oh, it’s…’

A flash blinded me. I blinked, stunned, and saw Billie smiling from behind her camera.

‘Your face was just too cute,’ she giggled, lowering the camera, and pulled out the Polaroid as the image developed. She waved it in the air a few times before holding it out to me.

‘Here, take it.’

I took the little white square, and watched the colours spread out across the surface, almost as if by magic. There I was, my face a little dreamy and a slight smile playing on my lips. The universe of swirling lights around me was reflected in my eyes, making them shine like illuminated mirrors.

‘You can keep it! My gift.’

‘Really?’ I whispered, bewildered by such a wonderful present – a moment of frozen time and captured colours. There was something wondrous about holding a fragment of life in your own hands.

‘Of course. I’ve got loads of them, don’t worry! Grandma tried to give me an album to put them in, but I can’t get to grips with being that organised. See?’ She gestured around at the galaxy of photos. ‘Photos of sunrises in the east, and of sunsets in the west. Photos of skies close to my desk, so I can feel more light-hearted when I study. And I put pictures of people around the bed, so I don’t feel alone at night when I can’t sleep. I look at their smiles and always fall asleep before I finish counting them all.’

‘How did you get into photography?’ I asked, my gaze wandering over all those faces.

‘My parents.’

She told me that they had been away for months. They were internationally famous photographers who worked for renowned magazines like National Geographic and Lonely Planet. They were always travelling all over the world for work, discovering exotic landscapes and scenes in all four corners of the earth. They didn’t come back home often, so Billie’s grandma had moved in to live with her.

‘That’s really wonderful, Billie,’ I told her in a whisper, entranced. I looked at the photos of her parents in the mountains of the Grand Canyon, standing next to a Mayan pyramid, and then in the middle of an explosion of butterflies, inside an old Native American tent. ‘You must be very proud of them…’

She nodded happily, looking at the pictures of them. ‘I am. Sometimes they can’t phone us because they go to such remote places that there’s no signal or connection. The last time I heard from them was four days ago.’

‘You must miss them a lot.’

Full of melancholy, Billie stared at a photo of the two of them smiling and brushed it with her fingertip. I felt her yearning as if it were my own.

‘One day I’ll be just like them. I’ll leave with Mom and Dad and fill the room with photos of me, too. You’ll see,’ she told me with silent longing. ‘When I’m older, I’ll be right there with them in these photos, the glossy finish won’t keep us apart.’

—

It was lovely. I couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole time I was walking home.

I felt totally at peace. I was going home after an afternoon with my friend. Was there anything better than feeling normal? Than feeling…accepted?

I passed by the school, feeling serene. It was unusual to see the sidewalk without a living soul. But I glimpsed movement out of the corner of my eye. I caught sight of someone between the open entrance doors, her back turned and her black hair swishing.

I thought I recognised her…

‘Miki?’ I called out once I’d come up behind her.

She jumped, and then suddenly spun around, her t-shirt ripping noisily.

My eyes opened wide and I stopped myself from reaching out towards her. Holding my breath, I stared at the tear in her sleeve.

‘I…I…I’m so sorry,’ I began, mortified.

Miki looked down at the tear and clenched her jaw.

‘Well, great. That was my favourite t-shirt,’ she said bluntly.

I wrung my hands, distraught. I tried to say something, but before I had the chance, she walked away without a single glance.

‘Miki, please wait,’ I stuttered. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I saw you there, I only wanted to say hi…’

She didn’t bother replying to me. She carried on walking, and I instinctively leapt forward.

‘I can fix it for you!’

I didn’t want to watch her walk away like that. I knew that Miki trusted very few people, I’d grasped that she was introverted, cautious and reserved, but I didn’t want her to hate me. I wanted to do something, I wanted to carry on trying, I wanted…I wanted…

‘I’m good with a needle and thread, I can fix it if you want, it won’t take me any time at all.’ I stared at her imploringly. ‘I live nearby. It won’t take me long, believe me, it’ll just be a couple of minutes…’

Miki slowed to a stop. I took another step forward, my voice soft and earnest.

‘Please, Miki…Let me fix it.’

Give me a chance, I was begging her. Just one chance, I’m not asking you for anything else.

Hesitantly, Miki turned around.

She looked me in the face, and in her eyes, I saw a glimmer of hope.

—

‘Here we are,’ I said a little later, pointing to the white picket fence. ‘This is my house.’

Miki was walking silently next to me, strangely close. I glanced at the violin case she was holding out of the corner of my eye, curbing my curiosity before the question burst out.

‘Come in,’ I invited her, leading the way into the house. She looked around a little warily. ‘You head on into the kitchen, I’ll be right behind you.’

I shrugged off my backpack then went to get the old cookie tin that Anna kept the sewing kit stashed in.

I went back to Miki, and found her staring at the cow-shaped kettle. I put down the tin and invited her to come closer.

‘You can sit down here.’

I settled her down by the kitchen island so that her arm was at a convenient height. She took off her leather jacket as I rummaged around for threads of the right colours. I nodded to myself, then threaded a needle. I saw a hint of nervousness in the glance that Miki threw me.

‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured her in a clear voice. ‘I won’t stab you.’

I bent over and gripped the two edges of the fabric together, then carefully began to sew. I kept my fingers underneath the fabric, so that I would feel the needle before it scratched her skin. I felt her recoil when I accidentally brushed her with my fingertips, but I didn’t complain. What Miki was giving me in that moment meant a lot to me.

I only noticed a few minutes later that she was staring right at me.

Her gaze moved to watch the needle precisely disappearing into the fabric then immediately reappearing, disappearing and reappearing, over and over with each stitch.

‘Where did you learn to sew?’ she asked neutrally, as her gaze switched to the window, and the garden beyond it.

‘Oh, I’ve always done it. When I was at the institute there wasn’t anybody who would repair our clothes for us, so I did it myself. At the beginning it was a disaster, I just kept stabbing my fingers…but with time, I learnt. I didn’t want to go about the place in rags,’ I said, speaking a little louder. I met her gaze and smiled gently. ‘I wanted to be clean and tidy.’

I took the scissors out of the tin and finished my handiwork.

‘There we go!’ I announced. ‘All done.’

She looked down at her sleeve, inspecting the tight and tidy stitching. Then she froze.

‘What is that?’

I pressed my lips together. She had noticed something that wasn’t there before. In the patch of stitching, a panda’s face was now embroidered.

‘I…well, the fabric was ruined there,’ I stammered, feeling slightly guilty. ‘And I know you like pandas…or at least, I think you do, seeing as you’ve got that keyring on your backpack and I…I thought it was cute.’

She looked up, and I lifted my hands up in defence. ‘But you can always take it off! Just a quick snip with a pair of scissors and it’ll come undone. It’ll just take a moment…’

My stumbling was interrupted by the phone ringing.

‘Oh, you’re home!’ Anna said happily when I rushed over to pick it up. She wanted to make sure that I’d got back all right. I realised once again that she was worried about me, and, like it always did, my heart fluttered. She asked me how lunch was, and told me that she’d be back soon, too.

When I hung up, I saw that Miki had put her jacket back on and had picked up her case. I really wanted to ask her something about the violin, but I didn’t want to be too intrusive.

I opened the door for her, smiling, and then I saw something sneaking past us, heading inside.

‘Oh,’ I said contentedly. ‘Hi, Klaus.’

The old cat threw me a surly glare. As I let Miki pass, I couldn’t resist the impulse to stretch my hand out to give him a stroke, but he leapt abruptly out of the way and tried to scratch me.

I brought my hand to my chest, embarrassed that I’d tried to touch him without his permission, or maybe because I’d been so obviously rejected in front of Miki.

I glanced furtively at her, and saw that she was already looking at me.

‘Seems he’s not in too great a mood today,’ I giggled a little nervously. ‘Normally he’s quite playful, aren’t you? Eh, Klaus?’

Klaus hissed at me, baring his teeth angrily before slinking off. I watched him disappear up the stairs, suddenly feeling slightly uneasily.

‘He’s got a bit of a temper sometimes…’ I mumbled. ‘But deep down…very deep down…I’m sure he’s a sweetie…’

‘Thank you,’ I heard her whisper.

Surprised, I looked up, but Miki had already turned her back on me.

She disappeared through the door, and without waiting for anything else, headed off into the night.

‘Tenderness, Nica,’ I heard my mother’s voice say.

I knew no other way of interacting with the world.

But maybe…

Maybe, the world was beginning to understand me.