Cass nodded. They’d agreed this in Dominica, so they could share photos.
‘Oh.’ Rosa sounded disappointed a few seconds later. ‘Not very exciting pictures. They’re just of people scrabbling round in the sand. Oh – isn’t he your man? He’s got that distinctive colouring you mentioned.’
Cass inspected the photograph of some pieces of pottery in the sand and saw Ranulph in a group shot. Even this slightly out-of-focus image was enough for her heart to leap and then sink as she realised his arm was round Becca.
‘It doesn’t say anything about who’s in the picture, it just goes on about ancient pottery.’ Rosa paused. ‘But Becca’s status is “in a relationship”,’ although it doesn’t say who with.’
Cass shrugged, trying to pretend she didn’t care. But to her it was clear: it was Ranulph. Otherwise whywould there be a picture of Becca with Ranulph’s arm round her?’
‘Well, don’t give up,’ said Rosa. ‘Keep the man in your sights and stop at nothing to get him!’
This made Cass laugh.
‘Seriously, Cass! If you don’t do something about your feelings, you’ll end up being an old maid doing watercolours and living with her mother.’
Time passed and Cass suddenly noticed the date. It was going to be Bastian’s birthday in a few days’ time. As she had mentioned to Ranulph, she’d read his CV back in Dominica and happened to remember the date.
On impulse she decided to turn the sketch of the petroglyph into a watercolour painting and email it to him as a birthday card. On one of the evenings when she wasn’t working at the wine bar or at her class, she set herself up with a table at home that looked on to the garden.
She knew that one of the reasons she was thinking about her time in Dominica was because it felt almost the same as thinking about Ranulph, which she did pretty much all the time anyway.
‘Oh, that is very pretty,’ said her mother, coming up behind her to see how she was getting on. ‘You’d almost think there were faces in that rock. Very basic ones, of course. But it’s a nice picture.’
Somehow Cass couldn’t bring herself to explain about the petroglyph again. ‘Do you like it? I’m going to send it as a birthday card to Bastian. You know? Who Dad knows?’
‘Oh yes, I remember. When you’ve done that, I’d be thrilled if you could do something similar – maybe roses? For Edna? It’s her birthday next week.’
‘OK,’ said Cass. ‘That would be a pleasure. I’ll finish this, then maybe we could pick a nice bunch of roses out of the garden. You could give her the flowers and the painting. Fresh ones, obviously.’
‘What a brilliant idea!’ said her mother. ‘That would give her huge pleasure.’
So when she wasn’t doing anything else, Cass painted. She did another couple of cards for her mother, and in between she worked up her sketches until she had a nice portfolio of paintings. If it hadn’t been for Rosa’s teasing about her being an old maid already, before she was even thirty, Cass would have been more or less content.
She also had a thank you email from Bastian.
Dear Cass
Thank you so much for my delightful birthday card. You have a real talent for painting – not just drawing.
I’m planning to come to London to meet my publishers who are planning to turn my paper into a proper book, with extra material of course. To celebrate this, and something else, I will be hosting a little gathering and would be delighted if you could come. More details to follow.
Sorry to be so mysterious, but nothing is certain yet!
Very best wishes
Bastian
Cass was delighted for many reasons, but her heart quailed after she had told Rosa this during their regular catch-up at the wine bar, because Rosa said that if Bastian had a party, Ranulph was bound to be there.
Cass did not know how she felt about this. Partly she longed to see Ranulph but she was also very nervous at the prospect.
Rosa was sipping her glass of rosé slowly, watching Cass processing her dilemma and knowing she’d have to order another one sooner or later, or Cass’s boss would purse his lips and look hard done by.
‘On the plus side,’ said Rosa, draining her glass. ‘It looks as if Bastian must have won the award, or whatever it is, or why would he be celebrating “something else”?’
‘I would jolly well hope he’s won it, after I risked my life to get his work in on time!’
‘No more news from Austin about the camera?’
