‘You’re right, there is lots to see. Maybe I’ll switch it up when I’ve captured this correctly.’ Again using her slender brush as a pointer, she tapped the canvas, hoping her comment might be enough to satisfy him, to send him on his way.
‘What is it you’re trying to capture, exactly, that means you need to keep repeating the process? If you don’t mind me asking. I find it fascinating!’ It seemed the man had a lot of questions that rather forced her engagement.
She looked at him now. He was older, tall, stocky, with an air of confidence that she suspected came with the wearing of his sharp-cut suit that reeked of Savile Row. His brogues were shiny, his hair expensively trimmed, his shave thorough and his watch a weighty bauble beyond the edge of his pale-pink double cuff, as if it were important to let it be seen. The barrow-boy-made-good-in-the-City look.
How to explain, where to begin? Phrases and words she knew she’d never share formed in her mind. She tucked her lips inward to stop any of them from escaping.
I started painting to try and please my dad, I guess. Then I wanted to capture my life here with my mum, because even if she was gone, the river was just the same, then it was life with my dad. Then it was him ... him, Wilkie. The day he sat on the wall, the way the light fell on the water, casting sea diamonds over the surface that were so beautiful I thought about diving in and scooping them into my hands and keeping them in my pocket for ever. The way the sun held him in shadow yet sent tiny flickers of gold to rest on his curls, the colours of his T-shirt, the buckle of his satchel. The one or two boats that ambled, part of our story, as if they, too, were caught up in the slow and heady delight of happiness and possibility that filled the air with its sweet summer scent. The mistysmudge of joy all around us as if we were the only things distinct – as if the day, the scene, the moment, was ours and ours alone and we were oblivious to everything and everyone and they to us. Trying to capture the magic. The magic of having him close to me and looking at me and knowing that it was our beginning and that we were going to matter to each other. Those seconds as he sat and I stared at him under the guise of taking in the background, preparing my sketch, aware our lives would change, that I would be changed, the very shape of me, the very fabric of me and all that I believed was possible ...
‘Just trying to get it right.’ She shrugged. This felt safer, easier.
‘Each to their own, I guess.’ He sniffed.
‘Urgh! I hate that phrase so much!’ Her tone was reflective of the rise in her heartbeat at the thought of that day, of him ...
‘So it would seem. Sorry if I’ve offended you!’ He laughed then, suggesting he wasn’t sorry at all.
‘I can’t help it! But –each to their own ...It’s purporting to be supportive, liberal, open-minded, accepting, but it’s anything but! It’s actually saying,I don’t get why! I’m judging you, even though I make out I’m not! It’s not for me, but you go ahead, even if, in my humble opinion, you’re wrong!’
‘Goodness, you got all of that fromeach to their own?’ He laughed again, a nice laugh, his blue eyes crinkling as he did so.
‘Yes. Yes, I did. It’s not so much what they say buthowthey say it!’
He stared at her now, seeming to take her in. She didn’t look away, holding her own, as irritated by the man as she was attracted to him. Drawn by his handsome face, confident air and his obvious interest in her.
‘Are there any other phrases that make you similarly angry?’ He was toying with her, no doubt, and she let him. It was playful, flattering, nice.
‘There are, actually.’
‘Well, let’s hear them!’
Lilly drew breath. ‘Cheer up, it might never happen!That pisses me off more than I can say. How dare someone, usually a man, often in a hard hat, demand a different reaction from me that might suit him better! And how does he or anyone else know what I’m going through, or what might warrant such a sober face or sad expression. As if I have to be pretty or pleasing for him!’
‘Yep, I get that.’ He nodded.
‘Oh, and ... andI knew that was going to happen!When something goes wrong, gets broken, or worse. When what you really need in that moment is support, kindness, help. That self-gratifying reflection drives me crackers! And it’s a lie, because they didn’t! They categorically did not know it was going to happen – they might have suspected it, predicted it, wished for it even, but they did notknowit was going to happen! They should just shut up!’
‘I see.’ He swallowed.
‘And—’
‘There’s more?’ he asked with a wide-mouthed look of horror.
‘Yes, a couple. You did ask.’ It felt good, letting the frustration of all she was going through over Waide House flow from her mouth.
‘True, I did. Carry on!’ He folded his arms across his wide chest as if settling in.
‘It’ll all turn out okay in the end!Just grrrr!’ She actually growled. ‘Isn’t that the biggest pile of rubbish ever? It mightnotturn out okay in the end! It might turn out horribly, painfully, disappointingly, people might die, in fact peoplewilldie, everyone does! It willnotall turn out okay in the end! And why does anyone think I might need to hear that? What am I, six?’
‘I can see I’ve touched a nerve.’
‘Again, you did ask.’ She took deep breaths to regulate her heart, which was racing.
‘To be honest, I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t.’ He, too, took a deep breath. ‘Would you like to go for a drink?’
‘What?’ She had heard but, as a seventy-year-old woman who had shown him her less-than-smiley side, was sure she must have heard incorrectly.
‘I said would you like to go for a drink?’
