Suddenly feeling churlish, Cass had smiled. ‘That would be great! I’ve always wanted to do watercolours.’
‘I teach the course,’ Sarah had said.
‘Will I need to bring my own materials?’
‘Of course. But don’t forget you get a staff discount. I’ll give you a list.’
By the time Cass had bought a professional watercolour kit, several brushes, a large block of watercolour paper (she accepted she could have bought smaller paper, of a lesser quality) as well as pencils and various other bits and pieces, she realised she would have to work for at least three of her part-time weeks for nothing.
The class was, to put it politely, small. There were only two other people in it. One, Delia, was a jolly elderly lady who described herself as ‘having all the gear but no idea’, and the other was an elderly man who didn’t say much but did beautiful work.
Cass, the youngest by several decades, sat behind the other two so she could make her mistakes in private. There was a jam jar with some wildflowers in it for them to copy.
Sarah was quick to notice that Cass had a very good feel for the paint.
‘I’ve only ever done drawing really,’ Cass explained, ‘which is why I’ve drawn the flowers and then painted in the colour. It’s probably not the best way.’
‘It’s not the established method but it’s very attractive, seeing faint pencil lines under the watercolour.’
Delia, the elderly lady, was extremely enthusiastic about Cass’s work. ‘If you cared to give me that painting, it would be the perfect card for a friend of mine. I always struggle to find her something suitable.’ Shepaused, possibly registering Cass’s look of utter disbelief. ‘Would ten pounds be insulting, do you think?’
‘Ten pounds for my first attempt at watercolours?’ said Cass. ‘That’s ridiculous! I’ll give it to you!’
The argument went on for a bit and in the end it was agreed that Cass would accept a fiver and Sarah would turn it into a card for Delia, for a bit more money.
Although there wasn’t a lot of tidying up to do, Cass stayed behind after class to help.
‘You do have a real gift for watercolours,’ said Sarah.
‘Do you think,’ Cass began tentatively, ‘that if I added paint to my sketches of Dominica—’
‘Where?’
‘It’s an island in the Caribbean, one of the Windward Islands. I’ve just come back from there.’
Sarah nodded.
‘I could make them into paintings? I could even redo them. Delia wanting my painting as a present gave me an idea. I’d love to make the sketches I did there into proper paintings.’
‘I’m sure you could. Let me know if you need any help.’
‘I think now I’ve got the kit I can copy the drawings and then add splashes of colour.’
Sarah smiled, obviously keen to get home. ‘I’d love to see them when you’re finished.’
With two jobs, her art class and her new mission, which was to make a set of paintings from her sketchbook, Cass had almost every second of her timeaccounted for. Sadly, it still left her plenty of time to wonder about Ranulph, and what he was up to.
On a rare evening out with Rosa, they discussed it. ‘I think I’d know if he’d gone back to his home on the island where my father is living in Scotland, because Eleanor would have told me.’
‘Well, have you looked on his socials?’
‘I don’t think he’s really into social media.’
‘But hasn’t he got a female friend?’
‘Becca,’ said Cass.
‘What’s her other name?’ Rosa asked, already keying ‘Becca’ into her phone. ‘And you’re friends on Facebook?’
