‘I do!’ she insisted. ‘I think you can start over at any point in your life. I saw my mum do it after my dad died. She’s doing all sorts of things she never dreamed of doing.’
‘That may be so.’ He picked up his brush and dipped it lightly in water. ‘But I haven’t got the time for it.’
‘If you say so.’ She smirked, knowing there were some fights not worth having. ‘What are you painting?’ she asked, swiftly changing the subject.
‘Don’t run away from a good argument.’ He paused, rotating his wrists one way and then the other.
‘I’m not! I’m interested.’ She peered over, trying not to flinch at the sounds of his clicking joints. ‘Maybe I can learn something from you.’
‘Sarcasm will get you nowhere,’ he quipped, brandishing his pencil at her. Eleanor caught the end in her palm and held it tightly.
‘Now, now, no need to be aggressive,’ she warned.
‘I wasn’t being aggressive. It’s old age, sometimes I lose control over my limbs.’ He winked, pulling the pencil back out of her grip.
‘Good job I have my youthful reflexes then, otherwise who knows what damage you’d cause.’
He eyed her warily and then turned his canvas towards her ever so slightly. Eleanor tried to hide her surprise at the sketch of a young man staring back at her.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked.
‘No.’ Eleanor tried to wipe the look off her face quickly. ‘I guess … I guess I assumed you’d be painting your wife.’
‘Who says that’s not my wife?’ He frowned.
‘Oh.’ Eleanor’s hand flew instinctively to her mouth. ‘Sorry, maybe it’s the angle … or the lighting … or,’ she stuttered, tripping clumsily over her words.
‘Jeez, woman! You should see your face.’ Reggie let out a loud snort. ‘Course that’s not my wife.’
‘Who is it then?’
Reggie turned the picture away from Eleanor and she felt him stiffen slightly at her question. ‘He was a close friend.’
‘Was?’
‘Yes, was,’ he replied bluntly.
‘Did you fall out?’
‘We’llfall out if you keep hounding me with questions.’ He shot her a warning look.
‘I lost contact with my best friend, although he came back recently. It was really weird at first but now …’ Eleanor mused.
Now what?
A feeling of warmth bloomed in her stomach.
‘He’s dead,’ Reggie interjected bluntly.
‘What?’
‘My friend. He’s dead.’
‘Oh.’ Eleanor cursed her stupidity. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’ Reggie hesitated. ‘Actually, I only found out becau—’
‘Everything OK over here?’ Agatha’s face appeared from behind Reggie’s canvas, stopping his words dead in their tracks. She tried to peep over at Eleanor’s but she pulled it closer, out of Agatha’s way.
