Page 16 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

‘Oh, of course,’ he said, straightening up. ‘This way — come on. You have to see this little beauty.’

And we continued along the street, until we halted outside a shop.

‘A book shop!’ I said delightedly.

‘Yes. The final stop on our tour. The building used to be a sweet shop, so it’s marked down as “the sweet shop, which was used as the haberdashery in Emma.” It gets confusing though, so people stand outside this shop instead.’ Jay sidestepped a few doors along the road and pointed to another shop. ‘Ben’s chocolate shop. When he first came, he was asking why his shop was a tourist attraction, as he kept seeing people looking baffled outside and shaking their heads. Several people have come in and told him off for not being a haberdashery.’

‘Poor Ben! What was a haberdashery doing in Emma though?’ I wracked my brains trying to remember which adaptation.

‘It’s where Emma has a conversation with her friend about that curate.’

‘Mr Elton! Ah, of course.’ I nodded and looked at the bookshop again. ‘Yes, I see it now. But I can understand the confusion.’

‘So wouldn’t a picture of the building be better? And something less prescriptive in the narrative?’

I nodded. ‘It’s a lovely walk, and super interesting — but it does need a bit of updating.’ I glanced around me quickly. I didn’t want to offend anyone, especially the WI, who it seemed had put a lot of effort into the trail. Luckily, there was nobody around. ‘A little bit of future-proofing, perhaps,’ I added.

‘Exactly. And it’s one of those things that many of us think, and that tourists mention afterwards, but nobody really has time to do it. The WI are so busy organizing other things for us like the Fayre, which is what they are doing right now. It takes a lot of organizing.’

‘I’m sure it does.’

‘And I think quirky line drawings would be incredible.’ Jay smiled.

‘Maybe.’ I half-smiled back. It did seem like a nice sort of project, but at the end of the day I had my work in London to think about, and whether I wanted to pursue anything there. I needed to visit Julio’s gallery, and see what the score was. And then I needed to pluck up the courage, if I could, to think about any opportunities that might arise from it.

I tried to ignore the little voice in my head that told me having my artwork on the Padcock Pathway leaflet would probably, in reality, be more “me” than working my socks off for an exhibition that, let’s face it, would be in the corner of the gallery and probably garner very little real-world exposure for me . . .

I looked at the leaflet again, now slightly crumpled in my hands. It could really do with an update. And some pictures.

And it would look pretty amazing, wouldn’t it?

But no. This was out of my remit as Rosie’s friend, so I folded the leaflet up neatly, tucked it in my pocket, and smiled up at Jay.

‘Well, thank you for taking me on the Pathway,’ I told him. ‘It’s been a lovely couple of hours, but I do need to head back to the flat and get sorted to go home. Rosie’s back, so . . .’ Rosie had texted so I knew that it really was time to go. It made me a little sad. I’d very much enjoyed my time in Padcock this weekend — Polly’s glowers notwithstanding — but real life beckoned.

Jay nodded. ‘Yes, that’s fine.’ He checked his watch. ‘I’ll walk you back, and stick my head in on Rosie before you go.’

‘She’d like that,’ I said. And that dreadful little part of me — which seemed to have become Jay’s biggest fan after I’d heard his incredible singing this weekend — went, And I’d like to spend that extra time with you too.

Chapter Six

Rosie and I headed back to our flat as planned that Sunday afternoon. We were home around six, and had just flopped onto the sofa ready to binge-watch something mindless when the doorbell went.

We looked at one another.

‘Damien,’ we both spoke together.

‘Let’s ignore it,’ I said, picking up the remote control and pointing it at the TV. ‘I’m sure the battery needs replacing in that doorbell. I never heard it ring.’ I compressed my lips into a thin line. I wasn’t sure I wanted any more of my shortcomings pointed out just yet.

‘Matilda!’ I knew Rosie was glowering at me, even though I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the TV. ‘Don’t be a meanie.’

‘Hmmm.’ I flicked through a couple of suggestions on the TV. The doorbell went again, followed by a ping on my mobile. ‘Oops,’ I said. ‘My mobile is switched off and charging. What a shame.’

‘Matilda.’ This time Rosie stood up and I cast a glance her way. She looked very cross. Then her phone pinged. ‘My phone isn’t off,’ she said and stalked over to the door to press the entry button. I sighed. Damien was coming in.

‘Hello Tilds!’ he said cheerfully and threw himself into the space recently vacated by Rosie, who had gone to make a cuppa for us all. ‘Did you have a good weekend?’

‘Yes thank you. It was nice spending time with people who don’t screw you over and don’t imply your work is rubbish.’