‘I must say, Cass darling, you may look about twelve but actually you’re turning into a very capable young woman.’
Cass frowned in thought. ‘I don’t usually look that young, do I? When I’m not wearing my favourite “at home” sleeping things?’
‘You always look very young. Don’t knock it! You’ll be grateful when you’re my age!’
‘Actually, Mum, you look very young for your age, too.’
Her mother shrugged off the compliment but it was obviously one she’d received before. But it made Cass wonder if Ranulph knew how old she was. How young did he think she was?
‘Now, pudding? I’ve made tiramisu. Your favourite.’
Cass felt her stomach was fully extended but the thought of her mother’s creamy coffee- and marsala-flavoured dessert made her nod in agreement. ‘Isn’t it funny how one can be full as an egg, but still manage pudding?’
‘I think you’ve lost quite a bit of weight since you’ve been away. I’m allowed to fatten you up.’
They took their pudding into the sitting room so Cass could find her drawings to show her mother. She laid them all out on the coffee table and sat back and ate while her mother looked through them.
‘You did these?’ her mother said at last.
Cass scraped the last bit of alcoholic creaminess from her bowl. ‘I did. I’ve always liked drawing, Mum. I think you knew that.’
‘Yes, but when I last saw anything you drew you weren’t as good as this!’
‘I was probably about ten! It’s hardly surprising. It’s the thing I like doing best in the world. I think I really worked that out when I was in Dominica.’
‘Your dad is very keen for you to go and see him as soon as possible. He’s been so invested in your trip. He’ll be thrilled to hear how you discovered the petroglyph,’ her mother said, changing the subject.
Cass nodded. ‘I want to spend a few days here withyou, if that’s all right. Catch up with Rosa, decompress a bit, and then go and see Dad.’
‘Well, don’t leave it too long.’
As her mother said this, Cass suddenly realised that she was right: she shouldn’t leave it too long or Ranulph might leave Dominica and go back home. She really didn’t want to risk running into him. She felt too raw, too hurt by the fact that he didn’t tell her she’d be travelling alone until the very last minute because he didn’t think she could cope with the thought. It was insulting.
‘I really want to see Rosa. And find a job. I’ve got no money.’
‘Your dad would happily pay for your fare to see him—’
‘Good! But I can’t be penniless. I must find something.’
Her mother became thoughtful. ‘You know at one time you’d have asked to borrow money from me and not expected to pay it back. You’ve changed.’
‘I have! And while we’re on the subject of change, I no longer want to become a teacher.’
Her mother frowned. ‘What would you do instead?’
Cass had been dreading this question. ‘Ideally, I’d go to art school. Or if I can’t do that, maybe I could illustrate children’s books or something. I did the drawings for Bastian’s thesis, after all.’
‘But if you were a teacher, you could do all that in your spare time. You couldn’t have a proper career in illustration, surely.’
‘Keep my drawing as a hobby? I don’t think so, Mum. Teachers work incredibly hard. They have to love it. Teaching is too hard for it just to be something you do to earn money. I want to do something I love.’ She paused. ‘Take Bastian, for instance. His life and his work are more or less the same thing. He writes about the islands he knows more about than anyone else. It’s not just about the money for him.’
Her mother sighed in a way she had sighed many times before. This time, Cass felt annoyed. She was old enough to make her own decisions. ‘I’ll make it work somehow.’
‘How many artists earn money from what they do?’
‘I don’t know. But it’s what I want to spend my life doing. I never was any good at academic stuff, Mum. You know that.’
Her mother pursed her lips. ‘Well, it’s your choice.’ Then she smiled more warmly. ‘And as you’ve already put yourself in your pyjamas you should probably have an early night!’
