‘You want a job, and it does benefit me that you’re more … mature. I imagine a lot of the applicants for the position will be A-Level students. Not that I’ve got anything against hiring someone so young – Lili across the road has an amazing shop assistant. But I think she’s probably one of a kind. I worry I’d hire someone, and they’d spend most of their time on theirphone, or looking bored, which wouldn’t exactly endear them or my shop to customers.’
‘Ah, I assumed the position would be next door in your new bridal shop.’
‘The bridal shop isn’t up and running yet, so I’m afraid it will be in the art and craft shop to begin with – hope you don’t mind.’
‘Mind?’ Bridie didn’t mind one bit, although she was surprised that Hannah was almost apologising. ‘I don’t mind at all. In fact, I love your shop, and the cosy corner. And the painting in the window.’ And she much preferred the idea of working there than in the bridal shop, which would just rubbing her nose in what was not to be – not with Julian, at any rate.
Bridie had to ask. ‘Is that painting in the window for sale, by any chance?’
‘You want to buy the painting in the window?’
Bridie knew that whatever the price tag was, she wouldn’t have the money anyway. But she could save up, if it wasn’t sold. She said as much.
‘It means that much to you?’ Hannah asked.
‘It’s the little theatre in Aldeburgh, isn’t it?’
‘It is. How did you know? It looks nothing like the place now. Oh, of course, you grew up here, so you recognise it from its heyday.’
‘I wouldn’t say it was its heyday. It was still run down back then when I was a teenager and they briefly reopened the theatre to allow the drama group at school, which I happened to be in, to stage a play.’
‘Who’sthey?’
Bridie looked at her, stumped. ‘I have no idea. I don’t think anybody knew who owned the place.’
‘How strange.’
‘Very,’ agreed Bridie. ‘But it’s stranger still that the painting in the window depicts the theatre as it may have been.’
‘Oh, there’s nomayabout it.’
Bridie looked at her curiously. ‘You mean that is an actual depiction of what it used to look like?’
Hannah nodded. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘Who painted it?’
Hannah suddenly clammed up.
‘Didyoupaint it?’ Bridie didn’t believe she had because Hannah wouldn’t have even been born when the theatre was in its heyday.
‘Oh, dear me, no. I’m afraid there’s only one artist in the family, and it isn’t me.’
‘A family member?’
Hannah rose from her seat. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
Bridie didn’t know what the big secret was, but she guessed there was one. ‘Look, you don’t have to tell me who painted it. I just love to know how the painter knew what it used to look like.’
‘Reggie.’
‘Reggie painted it?’
‘No – but he has photos.’
‘Photos?’
‘Yes, a shoebox full of old photos and memorabilia about the theatre.’
