‘No. I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure it’ll work out.’ He was beginning to wonder why he’d thought this would be a good idea.
‘Oh, fine. I’ll do it for you. I’ll come over and help you wrap everything up with the project and help you try and sort out this divorce. But if she gets upset about us travelling out there together then that’s your problem, not mine.’
It was at times like this that he remembered why he’d always been so fond of Bella. She was strong and determined but you never knew what decision she’d make. ‘Thanks, Bella. I owe you one.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she said, her voice sombre. ‘You’ve never let me down and it doesn’t matter who you or I are with, you’ll always hold a special place in my heart. Anyway, I was there at the beginning of the project and it’s only right that I should be there at the end.’
He sighed. ‘Thank you.’
She giggled. ‘Don’t thank me yet; you’ve still got to break this news to your girlfriend, or whatever she is.’
11
DAISY
It was Daisy’s day off, and despite a nagging hangover she was feeling cheerful. The sun had begun to burn through the fog that morning and was now brightening up the day.
Deciding to make the most of the glorious weather she walked to Beauport headland and set up her easel. Daisy was delighted to have found a position that gave her a great view of the bay below without being in the way of the footpaths that two people and their dogs had already walked down.
She’d been looking forward to coming here since overhearing one of the guests talking about how magnificent the views were. They hadn’t been exaggerating. Despite it only being seven-thirty in the morning, Daisy could see several yachts anchored in the bay and presumed they must have spent the night rolling on the gentle waves.
She breathed in the warm sea air and marvelled at the dew on the grassy mounds surrounding her pitch. The turquoise sea was calm and it seemed that nothing could possibly be wrong in a world where this sort of beauty existed. She chose several oils from her khaki bag and squeezed the colours onto her palette. Gazing out at the one large rock rising from the sea between where she stood and the opposite headland, she let her mind wander and began to paint.
She was barely aware of the few passers-by who cameher way or of the sun as it warmed her face and arms. She loved painting and losing herself in the emotion of the image she was recreating. It was only when someone stopped to ask if they could take her photo that she realised how long she’d been painting and how thirsty she was.
‘You’re an excellent artist,’ the bearded middle-aged man said, as he stared over her shoulder at the painting.
‘Thank you,’ Daisy replied. It dawned on her that he didn’t look like the usual tourist taking holiday snaps. ‘Are you on holiday?’
He shook his head and held up his camera briefly. ‘No, I work forThe Jersey Scene, the local glossy mag. I’m doing a piece about outdoor activities for the next edition. Do you mind me using your picture for the magazine?’
She thought about his question, a niggling doubt creeping into her stomach. If it was a local magazine then who was going to ever see her picture on the mainland? It should be fine, surely. And she’d been fine with her photo going up on a local business’s website yesterday. ‘Well…’ She considered his request a little further. ‘This is a local magazine, you say?’
‘It is.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll understand if you’d rather I didn’t use your picture, but I was taken by your concentration while you painted that beautiful landscape of the bay. I was hoping for a picture within a picture, as it were.’
She was being over cautious. Aaron had probably moved on by now. She didn’t want this stranger to think she was being ridiculous. If he wouldn’t see the magazine, then what was there to worry about? ‘No, it’s fine,’ she said, aware he’d been waiting patiently for her answer.
‘Great, thanks.’ He lifted his camera up to his face. ‘If you just carry on with your painting and maybe look over the top of the canvas at the view, please.’
She did as he asked. Hearing the camera click severaltimes, she continued to hold her pose.
‘Perfect,’ he said. She turned to face him, smiling. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. ‘If you want a copy, please call this number and I can send one to you.’
‘I might do that,’ she said, reading his name and dropping the card into her canvas bag.
‘Or if you like I could take your mobile number and let you know when the article is out?’ he said, replacing the cap on his expensive-looking camera.
‘I don’t have a mobile,’ she said, aware that this usually surprised people when they discovered it, but who did she have to call? It was pointless having something you didn’t need, something that could be traced by a determined person.
‘You don’t have a phone?’ He smiled. ‘You really are an artist,’ he laughed. ‘More interested in your craft than keeping up with what people are doing, I guess.’
She hadn’t ever thought about it like that before. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
He looked down at her partially completed painting and again at the view ahead. ‘You really are very good. Are you a professional artist?’
She shook her head. ‘No, but I hope to be someday.’
‘Well, if your talent is anything to go by, I’m sure you’ll end up achieving your ambition,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘It was good to meet you.’
