Lotus and paisley mandala design

The pattern sheets came off the Calder boat on Tuesday, rolled tight and smelling of tar, and I have spent three nights bent over the drawing table with the lamp pulled low. Mr Varga wants the lotus and the eye at its centre for the shawl, the way his mother wore it, and he will not accept a flower without a watching thing in its heart. I told him an eye is bad luck on cloth. He said the fishing families have always stitched one into their sails and nobody has drowned for it yet.

So I drew it the old way, a dot at a time. Each petal is layered like the scales on the quay wall, and I set the paisley curls above so the wind seems to lift them. Beneath the bloom I made the scalloped mandala, the rings of small dots Nan taught me to count in threes so the stitches sit even. It took me until Thursday to get the eye right. It kept looking up at me from the page, as if it had seen the crates come in and knew what was missing.

On Friday I found a second roll under the cutting bench, a drawing nobody ordered. It was the same lotus, but the eye was shut. Someone had started it and stopped. The pencil guideline still showed beneath the ink, and the dotted line ran out at the paper's edge like a tide going out. I have pinned it above the table. I cannot tell whether it is finished or whether someone is still working on it at night, in a room on the far side of the harbour.

Come on Sunday if the boat runs. Bring the good pens. I will keep the lamp lit, and we can decide together whether the eye should stay open.