“I’m probably keeping you from your jobs, Marcy, I do apologise,” he said, beginning to leave the table, probably to return to his wife.
“Not at all, Mr…Donald,” I said, forcing a smile.
He nodded and left, leaving me to face the demands of Jennifer who beckoned me into the kitchen, determined to discover what secrets Donald had shared.
He’s so intriguing, Alice, but I’m not sure how to act around him! His wife seems very sickly and not at all like him – in fact they barely speak when they are together.
I hope you enjoyed your day trip with your cousin and his friend. It’s so exciting that he’s at Cambridge! Do tell me more soon!
Marcy
I putthe letter down and sat back, pulling my knees too my chest. Marcy – if it was Marcy – had clearly been attracted to Don, who was married, even if she didn’t recognise it. As far I knew, she’d never had a fiancé or a suitor, or even been close to being married.
“What do you think?”
Kim was looking through photos, sorting them methodically by face.
“I don’t think Marcy died a virgin.”
I sat up a little, my childhood idea of my great-great aunt becoming slightly distorted in an exciting kind of way. “What makes you say that? Mum was adamant that she was as pure as the driven snow.”
Kim laughed. “You’re precious. No, Marcy had a long relationship which was complicated, I think. I don’t know anything about him though.”
“How did you know that?”
“Something Nan said years ago. I believe Aunt Marcy was treated for the clap at some point, but if you ask me how Nan knew that I can’t answer because I don’t know.”
“So who was this Don Stretton? And his wife? Stretton rings a bell…” I tried to pull vague memories back into my head but they were too far away to grasp.
“Stretton was the surname of the man who had the lighthouse rebuilt. He owned the boats here at one point and made a killing with mussels – as in the seafood.”
“Yeah, I got that.” I glared at her. Just because she was pregnant didn’t mean I couldn’t sue for sarcasm.
“Shall we ask Nan?”
“She’s gone to Bangor. Later. Tell me about last night. When I left you were deep in conversation with our resident artist.”
Nothing wrong with Kim’s pregnancy blurred eyes.
“We were just talking.” I was going to tell her about it, but now I wanted it to just be mine. My little secret until I worked out how I felt about it. I knew little about him, except for the crash and that he’d been injured badly, fracturing his spine and had to learn how to walk again. I knew he was planning on staying here too, and I wasn’t. But I didn’t know he was an artist.
“What do you mean, artist?” This was new. Catrin might’ve mentioned something in passing but I hadn’t picked up on the whole artist thing.
Kim eyed me and then shook her head. “Actually, Gabe wouldn’t have mentioned it. He paints. I’ve seen a couple of pieces of his work and he’s really good. Have a guess what sort of stuff he does?”
I shrugged. Art was not my favourite subject to teach, let alone really talk about. “I’d guess something trendy looking like pop-art or something.”
She shook her head. “Acrylic and some oils. When I saw his painting I wanted to touch it. He’s incredible. Pat Evans was going on about how talented he was and how much he should be charging.”
Pat was a local artist and sold widely, charging well into four figures for a painting that was about the same size as my hand. He was also a dick.
“He didn’t say.” I felt a little down about it. We’d talked about so much last night, I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t have mentioned it.
Kim tipped her head to one side. “I think you have bigger things in common than him painting and he’s really shy about it. He’d sold a few before he moved here but when a couple of posh cars turned up at his barn, people got talking. I don’t think he does it as a way to make money.”
“I’ll ask him about it.”
“You like him.”
