Ink and Ivy

by Sara Martin

  I was deeply absorbed in reading until Grandma entered the room.

  “There you are,” she said. “I was looking for you.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I was going to do some baking, and I thought you’d like to help. You used to love it when you were a child.”

  “I’d love to help.” I put the book away and followed Grandma to her private kitchen. Large cupboards and benches equipped the farmhouse style kitchen. Copper pots and pans hung above an island counter in the centre.

  “I bake every day. I like to leave treats for the guests,” Grandma explained.

  “What are we going to bake?”

  “Your favourite.”

  “Chocolate chip cookies?”

  Grandma nodded.

  I was as excited as a little kid. Mum never baked, so this was a rare opportunity.

  Grandma read out a list of ingredients, and I sourced them from the huge walk-in pantry.

  “How have you enjoyed your stay?” Grandma asked while she mixed the ingredients together.

  “It’s been so relaxing. I don’t want to leave.”

  “And what about Julian?”

  “He’s had a good time too. I think the trip has helped him get over his artists’ block.”

  “That’s good. He’s a talented young man. So handsome too.” Grandma eyed me knowingly. “He must like you a lot to come here with you. Is he your boyfriend?”

  “No. We’re just friends,” I explained again.

  “But you’d like to be more than friends?”

  “Grandma! This is way too embarrassing.”

  “I can tell by the way you look at him.”

  “You can?”

  Grandma nodded. “I was around your age when I started seeing Arnold.”

  “You married quite young, didn’t you?”

  “I was twenty.”

  “Only two years older than me…”

  Grandma formed the cookie dough into balls, pressing them onto a greased tray. I helped her, scooping some dough from the bowl.

  “I think you and Julian would make a cute couple,” Grandma said wistfully. “Let me know if anything happens between you two.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “Whatever you say,” Grandma said teasingly.

  I ate so many cookies, I almost didn’t have any room for dinner. Fortunately, when the roast meal was laid out before us, I grew hungry again. Grandpa filled our glasses with red wine.

  “I want to thank you for letting us stay. I’ve had a really nice time,” I said.

  Julian murmured in agreement.

  “Not a problem at all, my dear,” Grandma said. “In fact, we’d love it if you came more often. Isn’t that right, Arnold?”

  “Indeed,” Grandpa said. “It has been a pleasure having you.”

  Grandma filled my plate and I began to eat, savouring every bite.

  After dinner, Julian and I headed back to our rooms.

  “Ivy?” Julian said when we reached our doors.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s still early.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you want to come in?” he asked, motioning to his door.

  “Huh?”

  A blush crept onto his cheeks. “I mean, I’ve been on a roll with my art lately, and I’d like to draw you.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  “Then let’s go inside.” Julian directed me into his room and closed the door behind us.

  “It’s been a while since I modelled for you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where do you want me?”

  Julian opened the sliding door out onto the balcony. The brisk air swept in. “Stand out here. I know it’s cold, but this will be a quick sketch.”

  “Okay.” I stood outside.

  True to his word, Julian whipped out a pen and his sketchbook, and very quickly and loosely, he sketched me.

  “Can I look?” I asked when he had finished.

  Julian showed me the sketch. It was far from perfect, but it had a liveliness to it I had not seen in his work before.

  “It’s good. I think you’ve nailed it.”

  “Can I draw one more picture?”

  “Yes.”

  I sat at the foot of the bed. He brought his pen down to the page but stopped abruptly. He approached me.

  “Your hair’s in your face.”

  His hand came down and he gently tucked a strand behind my ear. The feeling of his hand on my skin made me weak. His hand lingered, and I looked into his eyes, wondering what he was thinking. He looked back at me, and I thought I saw longing in his eyes. My heart beat fast in my chest. My eyes wandered to his lips. I began to tilt my head.

  This is actually happening.

  A ring tone began to sound. Julian’s phone vibrated on the coffee table. The screen read Charlotte Preston. I prayed Julian wouldn’t answer it, but he snapped away from me and picked up the phone.

  “I have to take this.” He left me alone in his room, taking the call in the hallway.

  I withered in my seat. Something good was about to happen, then one call ruined it all. Charlotte Preston was more important. For some reason, I had thought she was out of the picture.

  I couldn’t hear what Julian was saying. When he re-emerged, he looked solemn.

  “What was that about?”

  Julian hesitated. “It’s nothing.”

  I didn’t press further.

  Julian paced back and forth a few times.

  “Are you going to finish the drawing?” I asked.

  Julian shook his head. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

  My grandparents took us to the airport the next morning. When we said our goodbyes, I almost cried.

  Grandpa wiped away an errant tear with his handkerchief. “You’ll be missed,” he said.

  “Come back soon!” Grandma said.

  “I will.”

  I kept turning back to wave to them as we waited in the queue to board.

  Few words were exchanged between Julian and I during the flight. Upon our arrival, he offered me a stiff, awkward hug before we went our separate ways. It stung. I tried to hide my hurt. Why was he acting so cold?

  When I arrived home, I went to my room. The wall calendar plastered above my desk reminded me of the important dates which loomed. Mock exams and the due date of my application to Elias. There wasn’t much time left.

  21

  As soon as I stepped through the school gate, Lana was drawn to me like a magnet, inundating me with questions about my time at the lodge with Julian.

  “I want all the details,” she stressed.

  After I gave her a brief rundown, Lana seemed confused. “Does that mean Julian and Charlotte are a couple?”

  “I don’t know. If they are, he’s a jerk. I mean, he almost kissed me.”

  “There must be some other explanation…”

  Before we could ruminate any further, the bell rang.

  Part way through my economics lesson, I was summoned to see the careers adviser, who I learnt was called Ms. Edmond. I left class and made my way to the careers office.

  “Miss Beckett?” Ms. Edmond looked up from the file in front of her. It had my name on it.

  “Yes.” I approached her, feeling a little nervous.

  “Take a seat.”

  I put my bag on the floor and sat down.

  “As you know, all students have an appointment with me in their final year to discuss their future career path.”

  I nodded. “I visited a while ago to get some info on the Elias Institute.”

  Ms. Edmond adjusted her glasses and peered at me. “That’s right. Creative writing was it?”

  “Yes. I’ve decided to apply.”

  “It’s a good school. As I’m sure you’re aware, arts degrees aren’t very marketable today, but most Elias students don’t struggle to find employment. Have you thought about possible career outcomes?”

  “Outcomes?”

  “What
do you want to do once you graduate Elias?”

  I had a complete mind blank. Heat blossomed to my cheeks.

  Ms. Edmond prompted me again. “Is there a particular career or job you would like to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “I haven’t thought too much about it.”

  “Then I recommend you give this more thought, Miss Beckett. It may seem like the far-off future, but it will come around much faster than you think.”

  “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  “The good news is you will have three more years to figure it out. I’m sure Elias will offer plenty of career support.”

  “I’ll try take advantage of it.”

  “Good. I recommend you do so.” Ms. Edmond made a note in my file. “Have you applied for a student loan?”

  “Not yet, but I plan to.”

  “Were you aware Elias requires a one-thousand-dollar deposit upon acceptance? It will be reimbursed once the student loan kicks in, but initially, you will have to pay for it from your own pocket.”

  “No. I didn’t know that.”

  “Will that be a problem?”

  “It might be. I don’t think my parents will pay for it, and I don’t have enough money to pay for it by myself.”

  “Do you have any other family members who might offer you a loan?”

  I thought of my kind old grandparents. “Possibly.”

  “There is also the issue of living costs. Wellington has a fairly high cost of living. Are you eligible for a student allowance?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How much do your parents earn?”

  “No idea. They don’t tell me things like that.”

  “Are your parents full-time professionals?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s highly unlikely you qualify.”

  “Oh.”

  “You can always claim living costs on your loan, but the amount is unlikely to cover all your expenses. Can your parents support you at all?”

  “No. They’re not going to support me.”

  “Elias students are discouraged from having part-time jobs due to the intensive nature of the course. In your case, it might be the only way you’ll be able to cover your costs.”

  “Yes, I thought that would be the case.”

  “Do you have any work experience?”

  “I did some work experience at a law firm, but apart from that, I’ve never had a job.”

  Ms. Edmond took down more notes. “You might find it difficult to find part-time employment without retail or hospitality experience.”

  “Would it help if I found a summer job?”

  “Yes, I think it would.”

  “What about scholarships? Are there any I might be eligible for?”

  “Elias offers one full scholarship per course every year. You’re obviously a bright girl, but these scholarships are highly competitive. Only the most exceptional students stand a chance.”

  That counts me out, then.

  “You’ll also need to consider the cost of accommodation. Elias does not offer their own student accommodation, but there are plenty of options nearby.” Ms. Edmond pulled out several brochures for apartment buildings and handed them to me.

  I had a quick flick through. Seeing the costs gave me a fright. Most of them cost more per week than I would be able to get from a student loan. I gulped.

  “Is there anything cheaper than this?”

  “There is cheaper accommodation outside the city centre, but then you need to factor in transport costs as well.”

  I felt so disheartened I was on the brink of tears.

  Ms. Edmond reached out a hand and patted me on the shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort me. “Ivy, I admire that you want to follow your heart and study something you love, but it seems like you haven’t fully thought this through.”

  “It was a recent decision to apply. I haven’t thought over the finer details yet.”

  “If you want my advice, I would not rush into this. I would take a year or two, get a job, save up and then apply.”

  Her sensible advice fell heavy on my ears.

  “Otherwise, if you can study something your parents will support, that would also be a good option. You will probably have better career outcomes as well.”

  I nodded along.

  I left the meeting feeling fragile. Ms. Edmond’s words had made me feel dumb.

  I confided in Lana at lunch time.

  “Don’t listen to that old bat,” she said. “What does she know about university and careers? She has been working as a part-time careers adviser at a high school since before we were born. What real-world experience does she have?”

  Lana raised a valid point, but I still felt uncertain. “What if she’s right?”

  “You can find a way to make it work.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Thousands of students have pulled it off before. Why can’t you?”

  “Thanks, Lana. I really needed a pep talk.”

  She slapped me on the back. “No problem. Now, get that application in before it’s too late.”

  By midnight, I had typed the final sentence of the short story I was to submit with my application to Elias. Too tired to go back and read through it, I hit print.

  I took the document to Mr. Donaldson after class the next day.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “It’s the writing sample I’m going to submit with my Elias application. I was hoping you could critique it.”

  “Ah, good. I was wondering when you would take up my offer.” He took the document and flicked through it. “What’s it about?”

  “It’s a mystery, with a hint of surrealism. Actually, I was inspired a lot by Hole Hearted.”

  Mr. Donaldson laughed. “I’m glad to have had such an influence on you. I will read it at once and prepare some notes.”

  The next day, Mr. Donaldson wordlessly slipped a manila folder on my desk. My stomach twisted in knots.

  22

  I couldn’t bring myself to review Mr. Donaldson’s notes until after school. I fished for the manila folder in my bag. With a deep breath, I opened it and a memo fell out.

  Ivy,

  Thank you for entrusting me with this task. I read your piece with fervour. Please see my comments within.

  AD

  Nerves swimming in my stomach, I opened the document. The swathe of red ink hit me straight in the gut. I felt like my worst fears had been confirmed.

  It’s shit. I’m a terrible writer. I’ll never get into Elias.

  Pull yourself together, I told myself.

  It took all the courage I could muster, but I read through each excruciating comment. My brain became overwhelmed, and I couldn’t process anything. I had to put it aside.

  After dinner, I reluctantly picked it back up again.

  I have to do this. Strong coffee in hand and my laptop open on the dining room table, I began to tackle the extensive revisions which lay ahead.

  Several hours and coffees later, I finally began to see improvement in my story. I just needed to give it one more push.

  “Ivy?” Dad asked from the doorway. “What are you doing up so late?”

  “I need to finish editing my story. My application is due soon.”

  Dad poured himself a glass of water. “You should be in bed. Teenagers need all the sleep they can get.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, yawning.

  “Well, it’s nice to see you working so hard at something.”

  “I’m nearly done.”

  Dad sighed. “It’s okay. I know this is important to you. Stay up as late as you need to. I won’t tell your mother.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Goodnight.”

  “Night night, sweetheart.” Dad left me in peace.

  As much as I tried to resist it, I began to succumb to tiredness. I did as much as I could before going to bed.

  When I returned to the story the next day, I read it through once, and that was
enough.

  It’s done.

  I clasped an A4 envelope, my application to Elias enclosed. I was about to leave to post it, but Mum held me back.

  “Please, just consider it,” she said, a pleading look in her eyes. “What if you don’t get in? What if you need a back-up plan?” Mum thrust another envelope at me. “Just take it. It wouldn’t hurt.”

  I cautiously took the envelope and inspected it. It wasn’t sealed, so I removed the contents and rifled through it.

  “I took the liberty of finishing it off for you.”

  “What?”

  “Our handwriting is similar. You can’t tell.”

  It was true. It had been so long since I had touched the Law School application, and looking through it now, I couldn’t tell what I had written and what was Mum’s effort. I put it back in the envelope.

  “Fine. I’ll take it.” I grabbed the cellotape and taped it shut.

  Mum exhaled with relief.

  “It won’t make any difference anyway,” I added on my way out of the door. I didn’t give her a chance to respond.

  At the post office box, I slipped my Elias application through the slot. I hesitated on the Law School application. I wished I hadn’t given in to Mum. Now, I had given her false hope.

  Never mind. I shoved the envelope through the slot with unnecessary force. At least this would get her off my case for a while. For that alone, it was worth it. Walking back home empty-handed, I felt an immense sense of relief. I had done it. I had really applied to my dream school. I couldn’t wait to tell Lana the news.

  And Julian, I thought, though the prospect of contacting him made me feel ill. I still had no idea where we stood.

  I tried calling Lana first, but there was no answer. I texted her the good news instead.

  Hey, Lana. Sent my application to Elias today :) I feel like celebrating! Let me know if you’re free tonight.

  I wrote a text to Julian as well, but promptly deleted it. I didn’t feel like making the first move. It is up to him, I stubbornly decided.