Ten Little Words by Leah Mercer

Author:Leah Mercer [Mercer, Leah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ELLA

I threw myself into my life with a fervour, religiously observing all the routines I’d created for myself – the neat boundaries I found so reassuring. I rose at the same time each day, ate the same packed lunch, hurried home along the promenade with my chin down, and ignored any outside intrusion . . . including my neighbour’s texts to go out and Carolyn’s increasingly incessant calls. I hunkered down inside myself, constantly on guard against any rogue thought or emotion that might slip through. I meant what I’d told Angus – I had put everything to rest – but I needed to be extra-vigilant now. I couldn’t let myself slip backwards, especially not with the possibility – no matter how slight – that my mother might be alive.

Not that it mattered, I reminded myself. Not that I wanted anything to do with her, anyway.

I had my headphones on and my eyes fixed on the screen when a cough right beside me made me look up. Jane was standing there with a friendly smile. I barely managed to repress a sigh, sliding off my headphones.

‘Hi, Jane,’ I said, trying to keep the irritation from my voice.

‘Sorry to disturb,’ she said. ‘But I have an exciting proposition for you. We’re putting together an exhibition to celebrate the new pier, and I’d like you to curate it. I think you’re the perfect person. You’ve been here for years and you know the archive like the back of your hand. “Sounds of the Pier”, we’re going to call it, and we’ll set up sound stations, complete with photos of the old pier and the new one.’

I shifted in my chair, excitement leaping inside. Curating an exhibition was a huge responsibility, and only Jane had spearheaded them before. Her offer was a sign that she trusted and respected my work, and a thrill of pride went through me.

‘As well as selecting all the sound files, you’ll also need to meet with Marketing and liaise with a photographer and the Hastings librarians. I’ve also arranged a meeting in London with some people at the British Museum, who’ve just done something similar. They’ll be able to talk you through their process and give you some ideas . . . Would you be up for that?’

The British Museum? I drew in a breath, my pulse quickening. After all these years, could I finally be getting the chance to go there again – not as an overawed student this time, but as a colleague? My mind spun as I imagined talking to the experts about my plans, learning from them, seeing behind the scenes—

But . . . my heart dropped as reality filtered in. London. That meant leaving my safety zone. That meant going to the city where there was a chance – no matter how big or how small – my mother now lived. Could I face walking down streets, trying to stop myself from scanning every profile, like I had on that trip to

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