Page 49

‘What?’ The logo on the top, with clay letters shaped by illustrated hands, belonged to RACA, but she couldn’t put the words together fast enough to add meaning.

Dear Miss Hodgson,

We regret to inform you that your bursary funding is due to be suspended. Due to unforeseen cuts in our college funding, the Royal Academy of Ceramic Arts is no longer able to cover your university fees for the summer term, which begins in April 2026.

Mum peered over her shoulder, the smell of her favourite jasmine laundry detergent clinging to her white knitted turtleneck jumper. Her thin brows dug into a frown as Juniper reread the first two sentences over and over again.

‘I don’t understand. What do they mean, my bursary has been suspended?’

Mum took the letter, blue eyes scanning the rest of the text. ‘It sounds like they’ve had some budget cuts and can’t afford to keep you on.’

‘But they said I’d been awarded it already,’ Juniper said, her voice fragile and meek. ‘The school year has already started. They can’t just take it away…’

‘These posh bloody schools can do anything they want, Juniper.’ Mum clucked her tongue, setting the letter back in Juniper’s lap. ‘I told you something like this would happen.It’s never straightforward, especially not if you want to be an artist. They’ll exploit you for all you’re worth.’

An ache settled in Juniper’s throat, eyes blurring as she looked at the letter a final time. They were taking away the only thing that could pay for her final term at RACA. The only thing that had allowed her to study there in the first place. Without it, she would have nothing come April.

‘How am I going to pay for the rest of the year?’ Juniper whispered.

Mum shook her head. As usual, the sympathy on her face was difficult to find, only visible at all because Juniper knew her inside and out. It was in the creases of her eyes, the thinness of her lips, but it was overshadowed by that neutral indifference. She’d always been hard to reach, and in some ways, Juniper was grateful for it. It meant she was difficult to faze, and if Mum wasn’t upset, Juniper didn’t need to be either. As a child, she knew something was bad when Mum reacted to it, and that meant rarely anything ever was.

It is what it is. It’ll be fine.They were words used to offer comfort, but they felt more like dismissals as Juniper grew older. Now, she wished just once that Mum would be upset. That she would show some kind of empathy so that Juniper didn’t feel like she was all on her own.

‘Have you saved up much?’ Mum asked.

‘Not enough for this.’ Living in London was even more expensive than Manchester, yet her paycheck barely reflected the difference. She’d have to work for years to earn this sort of money.

‘What about a student loan?’ Mum tried.

‘You can’t apply for them midway through the year.’ She only received a small maintenance loan because both of her parents were working, as though that had any impact on Juniper’s lack of funds. Her tuition fees weren’t covered at all because of the bursary.

The bursary she would no longer have.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. It was like receiving that rejection letter from Elmington again, only this time, she’d had a taste of what she was losing, and that made it all the more painful. ‘What am I going to do?’

Mum stared down at the beige carpet. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘I want to do what I’ve been doing! I want to study at RACA!’ Her voice rose with an anger that didn’t touch Mum.

She only shrugged, tugging at her earlobe. ‘Why can’t you drop out, try again next year?’

‘They’re not going to reissue a bursary they can’t even afford to a dropout. I’ll look like a time waster.’ Juniper pressed her palms into her eyes. She couldn’t believe it. How could they just take this from her? And why didn’t Mum see how much it hurt?

‘I don’t know what to tell you, Jun. I did warn you this would be hard. You didn’t want to hear it.’

Juniper turned away when Mum tried to pat her knee. She needed her to leave, now, so that she could process this without the unhelpful remarks. She was sure Mum thought she was offering sound advice, but she wasn’t. She was sayingI told you so. All that work Juniper had put into proving that she was more than just her burnout, more than her diagnosis, and it had been for nothing.Even if her funding hadn’t been pulled, Mum hadn’t cared about her high grade. Nothing was good enough. Nothing would ever be good enough.

‘Do you want to help me buy a turkey? It’s going to be mayhem in Tesco,’ Mum said in the quiet.

Juniper choked on a sob. ‘No, Mum, I don’t want to help you buy a chuffing turkey!’

She wanted help to stay at RACA. She wanted faith that she could find a way to make it work. She wanted, for once, for somebody to take her seriously.

She just wanted one thing to be easy.

23

Aiden didn’t have to look up to know when Juniper entered Caffé Verde. The energy in the coffee shop changed immediately, from the clatter by the door to the way his skin felt more settled around his bones. He dragged his eyes from the open page of his sketchbook to see Juniper apologising profusely to the old couple whose chair legs she’d tripped over on her way in.