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Back at home, she headed for her toolbox to find a power drill, a tape measure and some proper picture hooks. As she gathered together what she needed, she mulled over Adam. He was obviously still deep in the grieving process. She would do her best to look out for him, for he might find it difficult from time to time, being in a strange place.
And no one knew the vagaries of grief better than she did. How very lost you could feel. How desperate you could be for a hand to reach out and grab you, even if you shunned it at the time.
5
When she came back, Adam was staring down at the paintings.
‘Which order?’ he said. ‘I think it should go pink, grey, blue – sunrise, middle of the day, night.’
‘That makes sense to me. But they’re the same size so you can swap them around if you want to.’
‘She painted them in real time, you know. On the same day. Out on the decking at the back.’ He mimed standing in front of a canvas with a paintbrush. ‘Bish bash bosh.’
‘That’s incredible.’
‘I’m a complete underachiever in comparison.’
‘What do you do?’ Nikki was curious. She couldn’t hazard a guess. It was difficult to pigeonhole him. He was quite posh, but not gratingly so. Smart, but not a know-it-all. Artistic, but not totally bohemian.
‘Nothing very glamorous, I’m afraid. I’m an accountant. For creatives. Not a creative accountant – that’s something very different.’ He laughed. ‘Artists, musicians, writers – a motley crew who have one thing in common: they hate numbers. So I hold their hands and try and make their life easier.’
‘That sounds interesting.’
‘It can be. Though they don’t tend to want to talk to me about their work. More about what they can claim on expenses. You wouldn’t believe what they try and get away with.’
Nikki laughed. She’d run her tape measure across the wall and marked out where she thought the paintings should go. She held one of them in place so he could assess.
‘I reckon that’s about the right height?’
He stood back and looked at it. ‘Perfect.’
‘OK. I’ll get drilling. If you’re happy?’
‘Let’s do it. We can always patch it up if it doesn’t look right.’
A little while later, the picture hooks were up and the two of them manoeuvred the pictures into place. Nikki had to admit they looked very striking against the yellow. She would never have dared choose it as a colour, but it worked.
Adam took them in, his eyes roaming over every last detail.
‘Thank you,’ he said. There was a slight tremor in his voice, and he pushed at his glasses. ‘Right, I think you deserve another drink for all that endeavour.’
He hurried over to the bar and made himself busy. Nikki brushed up the dust from the drill holes and tidied away her things, setting them by the front door. On a console table under the window, she noticed a wedding photograph: Adam looking considerably younger, his hair raven-black, in a cream Nehru jacket, gazing at a woman who must be Jill. She was tall and elegant, wearing a silk embroidered kimono, her pale blonde hair piled up on her head, her eyes warm and laughing.
‘Here we go.’
Adam turned from the bar, holding out a fresh glass.
‘Thank you. That’s a beautiful photo.’
‘It was a beautiful day. We got married at Kew Gardens.’
‘I’m a wedding planner, so I’m a bit obsessed with wedding photos.’
‘A wedding planner? Wow. You must be a romantic.’
Nikki went to sit back down on the sofa. She took a sip of her drink, pondering his statement. Was she? She did love her job. Nothing gave her more joy than seeing a happy couple enjoy a perfect day with their friends and family, then head off into the sunset to start a new life together. But a romantic?
‘Maybe,’ she said, but there was doubt in her voice. ‘Though I always think it’s ironic I’ve never been married.’ She laughed. ‘I sort of did things in the wrong order. Had a baby with my childhood sweetheart, and we were going to tie the knot but then realised we weren’t really meant to be together.’ She always felt a rush of fondness when she thought about Woody, Bill’s dad. ‘But the lovely thing is we’re still great friends. People keep asking me if I’ve found anyone else yet. They don’t seem to understand that I’m quite happy on my own.’
