Page 5 of Old Girls Behaving Badly

‘I do realise that art history doesn’t feature in the working life of a companion,’ Gina continued quickly, while blushing, ‘but I’m practical and quick-witted.’

‘I think it could feature, actually,’ Dorothy said. ‘I’m very interested in art myself.’

‘I can see,’ Gina said, looking around Dorothy’s living room. ‘Your Meissen vases are beautiful.’

‘Thank you. Would you like me to give you a tour? We could walk down to the boathouse. My husband was a collector and kept a few pieces in there and some of my own too.’

‘You’re an artist?’

‘Used to be. I worked with kiln-formed glass,’ Dorothy said, suddenly keen to impress this woman.

‘Are those your pieces in the borders under the windows at the front? Because they’re stunning. The sunlight really catches them.’

‘I made those in my friend’s studio in Buckinghamshire and Jacque and I exhibited at Stourbridge.’

Dorothy tried to rein herself in as she realised she was beginning to sound boastful.

‘I’m very impressed,’ Gina said.

Dorothy glanced at Lavinia who looked completely surprised.

‘I’ll go and make a pot of coffee, Dorothy, ready for when you get back, shall I?’ she said.

‘That would be lovely, my dear,’ Dorothy replied, easing herself up out of her chair.

After Dorothy had shown Gina some of Philip’s most treasured pieces in the house while steadfastly ignoring the glaring gap on the wall above her fireplace, they walked down to the boathouse.

Dorothy had picked up the key from the dish inside her patio doors for the second time that day before they had stepped out into the garden, and once they had walked up the stairs to the side of the boathouse, she used it to open the door.

Gina was impressed, Dorothy could tell, and it gave her unexpected pleasure to see this woman pick up her things and talk about what she knew about them and listen as Dorothy filled in the gaps in her knowledge. She marvelled at the space too and said how much she loved the decor. Then she noticed that Dorothy had left a small candle lit and her expression changed at once.

‘Did you know you’d left a candle alight?’

Her voice had gone up an octave and her eyes were wide. She lifted her hand suddenly and clutched at her other arm.

‘I was out here earlier, must have forgotten to blow it out,’ Dorothy said, stepping forward to do exactly that.

‘It’s very dangerous, you know – anything could happen.’

‘Yes, my mistake,’ Dorothy said, thinking that not much was really going to happen, other than a waste of an expensive candle with no one to admire the scent. She guessed that Gina must have had a mishap at some point; that would explain her odd reaction. Keen to get her back onto the topic of art, she got Gina’s attention on the three paintings by Patsy Niven that hung along the wall above the sideboard and the candle was forgotten.

‘You really do have a super place, here,’ Gina said, her hands now back by her sides, her voice even.

‘Miles, my son, jokes with me that he’s going to move into the house and move me out here, but you know, I wouldn’t mind, because I love it up here.’

Dorothy turned the lock and opened the doors, pushing them back to the balcony and watched as Gina took in a breath and admired the view.

‘That’s the south end of Ash Island there,’ Dorothy said, pointing across. ‘You can see their houseboats and boats, and all that rushing water, of course, is the weir.’

‘I can see why you love it here; it’s a really special spot, Dorothy.’

‘I do feel guilty, though, just me in that big house, and I will move, but when the time is right and that’s not quite now.’

‘You shouldn’t feel guilty. This is your home. Why should you give it up to please others?’ she said and then added, ‘I’m moving at the minute.’

‘Where are you moving to? Are you staying in Oxfordshire?’

‘Not sure, to be honest. I’m on my own now,’ she said, pausing for a moment. ‘I guess I can go anywhere I want to, but I don’t really know where that is.’