Agatha clapped her hands together in delight. ‘Oh-ho, Reggie, you’d better be careful. Looks like our Eleanor heretakes no prisoners. Come, everyone, sit, sit! It’s time to announce our new and exciting project.’
Eleanor half walked, half ran back to her seat, trying not to cry out as the hot tea splashed over the sides of the cup and on to her hand.
‘I’ve known most of you for a very long time now. And it’s clear that your talents deserve more to play with than some pieces of old fruit and store cupboard items. It’s time we levelled up.’ She spoke with such energy that Eleanor could almost see the sparkles of light beaming from her. ‘So, I thought we could experiment with a bit ofimagination.’ She whispered the word dramatically, eyeing the group desperately for a reaction. All that was returned was the shuffling of chairs and the loud chewing of biscuits.
‘Right!’ Agatha steeled herself. ‘What does that mean, I hear you cry. Well, let me tell you.’ Her audience remained silent and blank-faced. ‘I will provide a word which will be your theme for the next month of classes. You will paint or create a piece of art that, to you, encapsulates this word fully. You have complete creative freedom as long as it relates back to the theme.’
Nods passed between the group.
‘We will present our works at the end of the month and have a little group celebration. Sound good?’
More nods and a few murmurs of ‘yes’ rippled around the circle.
Eleanor felt the air bristle next to her as Reggie moved in close. ‘I bet you that last jammy dodger that the word is love.’ He dropped his voice for her ears only.
Eleanor took a sip of her tea. ‘This last jammy dodger?’ She held the biscuit in question aloft.
‘The very one.’
‘I don’t think Agatha is that transparent. I have more faith in her than that.’ Eleanor put the biscuit down and held her hand out to Reggie. ‘You’re on.’
He took it and shook it firmly. ‘Big mistake, kid.’ He chuckled, seating himself upright once again.
‘Would you like to know the theme?’ Agatha rubbed her hands together, her eyes so big that they occupied half of her glowing face.
‘Tell us already, will you?’ Reggie cried.
‘All right, calm down, you keen bean.’ Agatha chortled. ‘The theme of the month is … “forget me not”,’ she trilled, throwing her arms wide in joy.
‘That’s not one word!’ Reggie barked. ‘Forget me not?’ he huffed. ‘What does that evenmean?’
Eleanor looked around the circle at the others’ equally confused faces. Agatha’s arms dropped limply to her sides, her excitement brutally extinguished.
‘I thought it was a clever play on words, you know?’ She looked around for some support.
‘Yes. It’s really clever,’ Eleanor found herself announcing loudly.
What are you doing, Eleanor? Shut up!
But the defeated look on Agatha’s face was too painful to ignore.
‘You could have forget-me-not, the flowers …’ Eleanor continued. ‘Forget-me-not, the colour blue, or not wanting to be forgotten by someone. Someone or something that we’ve lost. There’s so much to play with.’
‘Or paint with.’ Agatha winked, cheered on by Eleanor’s support. ‘Is everyone OK with that?’
Another round of hushed agreements signalled the group’s acceptance of their task.
‘Brilliant. Well then … ready … set … paint!’ Agatha whooped.
Eleanor picked up her winnings, turning the biscuit proudly in her hand. ‘Looks like this is mine then, doesn’t it?’
‘She saidword.One bleeding word,’ Reggie sniped. ‘How is it my fault if she can’t stick to her own rules?’
‘Don’t be a sore loser. It doesn’t suit you.’ Eleanor smiled, shoving the entire biscuit into her mouth.
‘I tell you what, I’d rather forget this whole stupid class if I’m honest,’ Reggie grumbled.
‘Why don’t you draw a bunch of flowers, colour them blue and be done with it then?’ Eleanor turned her attention to her rather large vacant canvas.
