She watched Joshua’s mouth flap, as if it were trying to find the words.
‘What is it, Mr Vaughan? Spit it out.’
She figured the sooner he had said his piece, the sooner he could leave and let her get on with her picture.
‘He’s already here.’ He pointed along the path towards the dock, and there was Alfie, walking towards her, open-necked shirt, no jacket, less formal than she’d seen him before, in deck shoes, chinos and with his sunglasses on his head. It was infuriating theway her heart was yet to catch up with what her brain understood and gave a squeeze of delight at the sight of him. Turning to her paint palette, she mixed a little blue with grey and a splash of water, trying to get the tone just right.
‘I know I’m one of the last people you want to see.’
‘That’s not true.’ She answered without looking up.
‘Oh?’ he answered with a note of optimism.
‘Notoneof the last,theabsolute last, theverylast!’ she emphasised.
‘Literally?’ Alfie stared at her.
‘Literally!’ she confirmed.
‘So if Attila the Hun were here, you’d prefer that or ... or an axe murderer?’ He tried a smile, which she didn’t reciprocate, knowing this time it would take a lot more than his smooth-talking, easy humour and handsome face to win her over.
‘Precisely that.’ She stared at him.
‘I think I’ll ...’ Joshua held his small leather attaché case aloft as if he had somewhere he needed to be urgently, which she guessed was anywhere other than here, as he stood to leave.
‘Speak later, Joshy.’ Alfie waved before turning towards her. ‘Lilly,’ Alfie began.
‘Why are you ambushing me like this, tag-teaming me with your nephew!’ she fired. ‘Why can’t you just leave me alone! Who knows how many days I have left to sit in the sunshine and enjoy my work in peace, but it seems it’s not enough that you’re taking that from me, you want to pitch up to harass me as well, spoil what limited time here I may have. It’s awful! You are awful!’
‘I was thinking about what you said.’
‘Clearly not about the bit where I said I don’t want you anywhere near me.’ She offered the reminder.
‘No, the bit where you said you’d only been on the river once before, on a water taxi back in the nineties, and so I thought it would be nice for you to see your home from the river. I brought my boat.’
Her eyes followed his extended arm towards the breathtaking wooden slipper launch that had only recently moored. A stunning craft, beautifully proportioned, its wood shiny. She knew her dad would have greatly admired it.
‘Thank you, but I’m quite content not to go for a ride on your very expensive boat.’ She returned her attention to the canvas. It bothered her that he thought she might be the kind of woman who would roll over at the sight of his fancy boat or the gift of a bauble, or a nice dinner in Battersea, come to think of it. He didn’t know her at all, and never would.
‘Lilly!’ His tone was close to exasperation, which made her stop what she was doing and look up. ‘If I was the villain you paint me as I would not be here, trying to talk to you. I’m asking for an hour of your time. That’s all, just one hour. This building you are so fond of, it’s a chance to see it from all angles, to really take it in.’
Before it’s gone for ever ...She filled in the blanks.
‘After that’ – he raised his palms – ‘if you still insist, you won’t see me again, I promise. And contrary to what you might think, I am a man of my word.’
It was conflicting; she felt relief that he might keep his word and a little distressed at the prospect too. It was such a shame he was a liar and an arsehole because she had really liked him. He was right, however, about the chance to see Waide House from the river, to take a snapshot in her mind. It would be lovely.
‘I hate how everything feels like it’s in turmoil.’ She put her brush down and, weary from the fight, spoke freely. ‘I was so happy, content, before your letters started arriving and your nephew was sent to knock on my door.’ The sadness that flared in her breast was raw and uncomfortable.
‘Please, Lilly, come out with me on the boat, just for an hour.’
‘So you can what? Twist my arm, give me all the reasons why it might be to my benefit to move on? I’ve heard it all and my heart is still broken.’
‘No, no arm-twisting. Come out with me because it’s a nice way to spend time.’
It was a once-in-a-lifetime offer and one she knew she might live to regret not taking. Folding away her easel, she packed her brushes and, in a well-practised manner, took her painting paraphernalia into Waide House and popped it inside the wide hallway; she’d take it up to the flat later, after one last glimpse of this place she so loved. With her hair tucked inside a peacock-blue silk scarf, she walked towards him.
‘One hour.’ The reminder as she made her way out on to the dock.
