Paint By Numbers

Chapter 3

If someone had told me a couple of months ago what was lying in store for me, it would've been Nina and I would've hit her for teasing me with the prospect of a future so much better than my present. I actually would've hit her, and maybe made her make coffee for once. She buys the granules but has no clue how to use them, which is ok because I've perfected the recipe.

Last month I had my first official day at Henry's company. What started out as a one-time job has kind of flourished into a three-days-a-week gig, learning all the computer stuff I never realised I didn't know. It turns out that for all his puppy-like energy, Henry's not actually a bad teacher and as he's showing me the ropes of the business and all the things I could be doing one day, I'm working for him as a kind of visual aid and - yes, it's a curse - manning the phones. It's not so bad this time around. Now I actually care.

For the first two weeks of working with Henry - the two weeks that were supposed to be my notice time - he set me up with an online course and I'm almost halfway through it now, six weeks on. Working like this may not be the best for my bank balance but I've actually been getting more done recently, things I actually want to do. I've even had a couple of private commissions ever since Henry gave me a hand with getting my stuff on a more formal blog, and even let me have a little section of the company website to advertise myself alongside the official designers. I won't lie; things are going well.

*

"Whatcha doing?" Nina asks me as she makes breakfast, pouring two mugs of coffee from the pot I made earlier, which is cooling at a considerable rate. She's more adept at toast than she is at drinks, but even so that's only because I've taped the knob in the right position to get it perfect each time.

"Preparing for today," I tell her, a sketchpad and a whole assortment of pencils in front of me.

One of the interns will be off to university next year but in the meantime, she's arty and enthusiastic and up for anything so together we've been running a weekend art group for city kids. She has proved herself to be pretty great with the younger kids so we split the room by age, usually, though a bit of an ability divide is forming.

In the first week, a whole range from six to seventeen showed up and we figured it was a one-off to see what we were all about but a month on, the vast majority are still turning up to at least one of the weekend sessions. More often than not, it seems to be a case of their parents wanting to get rid of them for a few hours but it suits me just fine. It really has been amazing to watch their confidence grow as much as it has.

"How many have you got now?" Nina asks, plumping herself down beside me a little too violently, her coffee splashing over the lip of her mug. The table is sprinkled with stains from her doing exactly that almost every day.

"Another two signed up this week so I think it's fifteen now," I say, and Nina reaches across to squeeze my shoulder.

"Good on you, Vi. You'll be in high demand before you know it. Snotty parents will be trying to book you as a private tutor," she says with a laugh, a slurp of her coffee followed by a loud crunch of her toast.

"Hey, don't knock it," I say as I sketch out a brief reimagining of what Sarah - the intern - and I discussed over the week. "I've got to pay the rent somehow. Do you want me to ever pay you back?"

Over the last two months, Nina has been rather useful for bailing me out and as much as I hate to take her charity is about as much as she forces it on me so I don't really have a say in the matter.