Getting out a bit proved in the next few weeks to be more difficult than she’d anticipated, not because she lacked opportunity but because of sheer exhaustion. However, a shot of steaming black liquid from the all-important coffee machine soon pumped her up again. Addiction? Maybe.
The season started with a bang! Suddenly the village was teeming with tourists and most of them even got as far as Holly’s end of the high street. As is the way with tourists, it was ninety-nine per cent browsing and one per cent buying. That one per cent made all the difference though. She wouldn’t be making a fortune but, if the late spring to early autumn months continued like this, Holly would be doing okay. Her one regret was that her parents would never know about her achievements.
Meantime she was starting to get a fair number of invitations and enjoying a social whirl that she could never have imagined six months earlier. Whoever believes living in a small community means a quieter life than in the city has obviously never tried it. Her new television wasn’t getting anywhere near as much use as she’d anticipated.
Wednesday was probably the busiest day of the week but nonetheless the most rewarding. She did her weekly shopping after she closed at lunchtime and before the first class began, the only time she could leave the gallery. Afternoons and evenings were taken up with the classes and she probably enjoyed them more than anything, thrilled as she was when people discovered they had talent, or in some cases not!
The afternoon tea and chat threatened to run into the late class so she had to put her foot down and set a time limit. She was a bit more lenient about the evening as she found it had the added benefit of helping her to relax and wind down at the end of a hard day as well. The other imperative was to find a way of reciprocating all the invitations she’d received. She would get round to it – soon.
‘I don’t know how you do it, Emma. School all day and then Tom and the boys to look after as well.’
‘It’s ’cos I’m so butch.’
‘Yeah, I guess that must be it.’
Holly felt she’d hardly blinked and the Easter holidays were gone, spring was over, and the summer season was fast approaching. Phoebe phoned one afternoon.
‘I need a replacement, Holly. There’s a big gap on the wall.’ Holly could hear her excitement. ‘I’ve just sold one of your paintings.’ Phoebe was as thrilled as she was.
There had been two absentees from the Wednesday afternoon class during the school break but things quickly returned to normal. Almost everyone was making good progress. There were only two exceptions, neither of whom had any obvious artistic talent, but their enthusiasm was undiminished, Lucy going as far as to say, ‘I know I’ll never produce anything aesthetically beautiful, but I don’t care. I’m having such a lovely time.’
It made Holly feel good knowing she was playing such a bit part in giving so much pleasure. The difference in noise levels was interesting as well. Sometimes you could have heard a pin drop; concentration was absolute. At others you couldn’t hear yourself think.
She got a cash machine and could now accept credit or debit cards. Not many people carried cheque books these days and it had proved a problem before. She also invested in a proper desk and retrieved her kitchen table. She still hankered after Gordon’s chest, the one in his shop that is. She resisted. It was an expense she couldn’t justify and she was managing pretty well without it.
As for Gordon’s other chest, the one that formed part of his body, the initial attraction had been fleeting. His friendship meant so much more. It may have been that he was the first man who’d shown any interest in her since she’d split from Harry but she’d known almost immediately that it wasn’t what she’d wanted. She hoped it was the same for him too; she didn’t know. As time went on though they seemed to have settled into some sort of easy understanding. Holly was comfortable with that. She hoped he was too.
***
The twins’ teacher contacted her in April and asked if she would be prepared to come in once each term as the Humpty Dumpty experiment had been so successful. Though she was very willing to teach art, the teacher that is, she had had little training, and she thought it would be good for the children to have some tutoring from a professional. She’d had permission from the Head Teacher to approach Holly but had no funds to offer.
‘Naturally, though, all the equipment would be provided and I’d make sure that you got the credit for anything the class did with you.’
It was a very special moment for Holly. No wonder Emma enjoyed her job so much.
Harry phoned twice and was at his most engaging. It went right over Holly’s head and she wondered how she’d been taken in for so long by his boyish charm. She thought he had been her prop. In fact she had been his and without her support he was now very insecure. She felt very sorry for him, but in a detached way. Without being callous, it wasn’t her problem. She’d moved on, and wished sincerely that he would do so too. She hoped and thought that he probably wouldn’t call again.
***
The burglaries began again. There were two, and it was obvious from the rumours that the police were convinced it was the same offender from the previous year. They happened three weeks apart and there was little work done in either of the classes on the following Wednesdays. They talked of practically nothing else.
‘I can’t believe it’s anyone local. Nobody who lives in Cuffingham would do a thing like that.’
‘It’s very sad, Ginny, but I guess we have to accept that the burglar is from around here. There are just too many coincidences.’
Everyone found it hard to believe that someone in their midst could be responsible. It was, after all, a very close-knit neighbourhood. They didn’t go as far as looking over their shoulders, but it was uncomfortable and Holly wasn’t alone in feeling terribly sad. This was when she realised that she’d made the transition from newcomer to community member and as such, figuratively speaking, felt she had personally been stabbed in the back.
***
Somehow Holly found time to organise a dinner party. There were nine of them: Emma and Tom, Kate and Charlie, Phoebe, Gordon, Adam, Steve, and Holly. They drew straws for the three kitchen chairs. Holly spent ages planning the menu. At 11 o’clock Emma phoned home and asked if the babysitter could stay the night. They played charades until 2.30 a.m. and some of them were a bit rude … and a few of them were a lot rude!
‘You can’t do that, Steve. It’s positively pornographic.’
‘You’re a vet. I’m not surprised you were the first to see it.’
It was a great night apart from a couple of incidents. At one point in the evening Holly came back into the room carrying a tray of drinks and caught Adam looking speculatively at Gordon. She wondered what that was all about but maybe Adam sensed he was being watched because he broke his gaze to look at Holly, smiling in a way that made her feel she must have imagined the whole thing.
The other was that although Holly wasn’t for a moment regretting her decision about Gordon she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy when she heard him offer to take Phoebe home. Because she was definitely over him she was disappointed in her reaction. She was pleased for Phoebe. It was just that she was still finding it difficult getting used to not being half of a couple.
***
One extraordinary upshot of the evening was that Kate, who was more than a little drunk, confessed all to Charlie.
‘And do you know what he said?’ Kate asked Holly and Phoebe a couple of days later. ‘He said, “You don’t really think I thought you were a virgin when we got married, do you? In fact, I know you weren’t because we slept together before the wedding. Several times. It happens. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s time to put it behind you.” And I’d been so worried.’
Evidently Kate’s pent-up emotions had burst forth in a flood of tears and it seemed that Charlie had spent the remainder of the night comforting her. Seven weeks later she announced that she was pregnant! Her friends felt very proud and proprietorial, as if they’d been in some way responsible, and they tried very hard to wrap her in cotton wool, but in fact pregnancy suited her and she was absolutely blooming.
***
‘You do realise, don’t you, that I could be at The Rose and Crown with Phoebe and Gordon this evening, instead of trying to make this drawing look like something recognisable,’ Steve let drop one Wednesday evening. ‘You’ll make an artist of me yet.’
At first Holly didn’t know what to make of her emotions. She was inordinately fond of Phoebe and happy she was dating. There was no understanding between Holly and Gordon. He was a free agent and could go out with whomever he liked. He’d told her ages ago she should tell him if she changed her mind. Well, she hadn’t and it looked like he’d decided that he’d waited long enough.
She should have been pleased. She was pleased because all at once she realised that her overriding emotion was one of having a weight lifted from her shoulders. For a long time now she’d felt a burden of responsibility, thinking maybe Gordon still wanted more out of their relationship than to be just friends. The relief was enormous.
Holly felt the need to mark the occasion in some way, if only to herself, and she phoned Adam on the pretext of finding out if Old Meg was still okay.
‘She is? Oh, that’s great. Do you fancy going for a drink tomorrow night?’
‘Love to, Holly. Eight o’clock suit you?’
‘Great. I’ll meet you at The George.’
***
Adam was both pleased and frustrated. While he was delighted Holly had asked to see him, he thought there was no way she’d have done so if she’d fancied him. It wasn’t in her make-up to initiate anything. She would wait to be invited. Of course he valued her friendship but as time went on he had to accept that he wanted more. Still, if friendship was what she wanted that’s what he would give her.
***
‘You’re a bit quiet this evening. That’s usually my role. You okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Just a bit tired. Listen to me, talking like an old lady.’
‘Well you have been pushing the envelope a bit.’
‘I know but I’ve enjoyed it and it helps keep thoughts of Harry at bay.’ Now why on earth did I say that? I haven’t even thought about Harry for ages.
A frown creased Adam’s brow and Holly worried that he would set far more store by it than was there. He made sympathetic noises and as the evening progressed Holly relaxed as she seemed always to do these days in Adam’s company. At one point, as they were waiting for coffee, she was sitting with her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands, watching him throwing his arms around as he described yet another episode in his busy professional life.
‘She called him sugar-plum but in the surgery he was always known as sugar-bum. Not that there was anything sweet about him. Vicious little brute he was,’ he said, grinning at the memory, ‘and I’ve got the scars to prove it.’
Blue eyes flashed at her and she remembered the first time they’d met. This time though his eyes were full of laughter and she realised again what a very attractive man he was. When they parted company on her doorstep he asked her out to dinner but he’d done that before. In fact it was becoming quite a regular occurrence.
Holly was glad of his friendship and that it was no more or less than just that. It made no demands on her, she thought, conveniently putting aside the sudden feeling she’d had when he was talking about sugar-bum. Then he kissed her goodnight. This time it wasn’t a peck on the cheek. He took her face between his hands and very gently pressed his lips to hers. ‘I had a lovely evening, Holly. Thank you.’
And he was gone. Other friends had kissed her on the lips before. She’d never given it any significance because it had always so obviously been ‘friendly’. Wasn’t this the same, she wondered, even as her pulse was racing? Who did she think she was kidding? Without her realising it, Adam was creeping in underneath her defences.
***
Adam didn’t know whether to be elated or worried. He hadn’t meant to kiss Holly but she was standing there looking so tiny and vulnerable and, yes, desirable; it had happened before he could stop himself. He could still feel the softness of her mouth on his. She hadn’t responded but she hadn’t pulled away either.
He hoped he hadn’t blown it. They were so at ease with one and other now and he was terrified she would retreat from him in the same way he’d retreated from other women after his fiancée had dropped him so brutally. The demands made on him every time he saw her were huge. He wasn’t a fool (he thought) and her comment about Harry only confirmed that she still hadn’t left her marriage behind completely.
In contrast he was glad she seemed to have got over her feelings for Gordon, something he knew about because Emma had mentioned her concerns to him weeks ago. He had other reasons though than his personal attraction to Holly for being relieved that was over. That she confided in him about Harry and indeed her anxieties about work made it seem that he was destined to be the shoulder she leaned on. The fact that he could vividly imagine that curly head nestling against him was a torture he found hard to bear.
He’d lost count of the number of times he’d cursed himself for his outburst at their first meeting. How different things might have been. By the time they got past their difficult start it was obvious that Holly regarded him as no more than a friend, albeit a trusted one, and because her happiness had become of paramount importance he was prepared to stand in the role of confidant even though his heart demanded so much more. He couldn’t regret kissing her though.
***
Life settled into a pattern and Holly told herself she was very happy and in most respects it was the truth. It’s easy to lie to yourself if you want to. Sometimes it’s even easy to believe the lie, particularly when ninety-five per cent of it is true. Business was booming! Her social life was busy with trying to fit in all her new-found friends. She tried not to think there was a but.
Holly had opened for business at the beginning of April and it was very slow until Easter brought people in large numbers. She was told things would remain steady until late autumn and, if that was right, she had every reason to be happy.
‘I’m almost tempted to buy a car, Emma. I can’t believe it’s going so well.’
‘I can put you on my insurance temporarily if you’re desperate.’
‘Not desperate at all. Not for a car anyway. It would just be nice to be able to pop out occasionally in my spare time but as I don’t have very much of that, no, not desperate.’
In spite of how hard she was working she was really enjoying it. Lots of people work hard; it doesn’t necessarily make for success. She wasn’t going to get rich quickly and she did make mistakes. It was inevitable that she should. Some things had to be sold quite cheaply when there was no interest in them at all and they were taking up valuable space. She’d stopped being precious about her work and didn’t any longer hold on to things for reasons of sentiment. But if her projections were correct she would certainly be comfortable enough.
She began to think that she might even be able to make plans for the dining room in the early months of next year. So when she told herself she was happy it was almost the truth. Somewhere though, hidden deep inside, was a very empty place that needed filling. She was surrounded by friends but somehow it didn’t stop her feeling lonely.
***
Holly began designing a mobile as her gift to Kate and Charlie’s baby and she thought long and hard over what to make. It was going to be the only one of its kind in the world and she wanted to get it right, something that would be special both to them and to the baby as it grew older. The market is flooded with wonderful things but she finally came up with something quite different from anything she’d seen and spent happy times working on it in the gallery when there were no customers around.
For a start it was going to be in her trademark colours: royal blue and yellow. That way it wouldn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl. It would take the form of a fairground carousel and she made countless sketches of each figure, choosing a bright yellow duck, a blue horse and a spotted blue and yellow frog.
‘What do you think I should do, Emma? I was wondering about materials and something soft would be nice but I’d like it to last.’
‘Well I’m sure they’ll have lots of cuddly toys. And everyone likes a spotted frog, particularly a blue and yellow one.’
‘That’s true, about the cuddly toys I mean. I’ll use a soft wood.’
Holly felt she’d made the right decision. She still treasured things she’d had as a child. She was hoping for a long, rewarding relationship with this baby.
‘And I really do think of royal blue and yellow as my colours. Someday, with luck, everyone else will too.’
***
‘Just thought you might like to know that another one has gone.’
‘At this rate, Phoebe, you’ll be doing more business up at the Manor than I am down here in the village. You’ll be charging commission soon.’
‘Not only that. The buyer wants to meet you.’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘No. In fact he’s asked if you can come over for breakfast tomorrow morning before he flies out.’
‘Flies out?’
‘An American. Lives in Philadelphia. He’s been coming here for years to visit his grandmother.’
‘What about the shop, Phoebes? I can’t just leave it.’
‘I’ve already phoned Kate. Drop the keys in and she’ll open up for you. Charlie will bring you here on his way to work and I’ll run you back later.’
‘Are you sure you haven’t forgotten anything,’ Holly asked her, smiling. ‘Why don’t you talk to the guy yourself?’
‘Because I’m not the artist. Did I mention he runs a gallery? No? Obviously I did forget something then. Name’s Arthur. Likes to be called Art for short. Not sure if it’s an American thing or because it’s what he does for a living. See you in the morning. Bye.’
‘Bye.’
***
After trying on half a dozen different outfits the evening before, Holly sat beside Charlie in the car, sucking one of her curls in agitation.
‘I’ve never seen you so nervous before, not even when you were waiting to open the gallery.’
‘But this is a dealer, Charlie, and an American at that.’
‘And that impresses you?’
‘Of course it does. They’re very serious about their art over there. If he really likes my work … well, who knows where it might lead.’
***
Holly liked Art straight away. Expecting to meet someone looking like a hero out of a movie, the somewhat younger Hercule Poirot lookalike took her by surprise. He wasn’t much taller than Holly and though he didn’t have the waxed moustache the resemblance to her mental image of the Belgian detective was uncanny. Perhaps it was the well-oiled hair that had suggested Agatha Christie’s character to her. His myopic gaze peered at her through large round-framed spectacles.
‘So you’re the creator of these wonderful paintings,’ he said, shaking hands with her vigorously. ‘I’ve seen many things here at the Manor over the years but nothing that took my fancy like these have. Your brushstrokes, the composition; but mostly it’s your use of colour that attracts me, your way of creating an atmosphere that draws me right into the picture. You have talent, Holly, and when I say that you must believe I know what I’m talking about.’
The broad accent sounded strange coming from someone who looked so Continental but of course America has always been a melting pot for people and cultures from all over the world. Somewhere, way back when, Art’s antecedents had hailed from Italy or Greece, she was sure. Holly didn’t know how to respond but found she didn’t need to because Art rushed on.
‘I’d like to have some. To hang in the gallery.’
‘The gallery?’
‘Of course, I keep forgetting you don’t know me. Arthur Bailey Calderwood. President of ABC Galleries, Philadelphia.’
It was rather a large name for a man of his size but somehow it suited him, though she was fairly sure Calderwood wasn’t his original family name. Holly realised he was waiting for her to say something. She just didn’t know what.
‘I’m sorry?’ was all she could come up with.
‘An exhibition. I’d like to do an exhibition of your work. You can come? In two weeks? It’s only a small room, the one I have in mind. Twelve paintings should do it. You have enough? I’ll arrange the packing and shipping.’
‘In two weeks?’
Holly seemed to have lost most of her power of speech.
‘Sure. You can come?’ he said again.
‘My own gallery. I don’t …’
‘I’ll leave the specifics to you. Here is my card. You’ll fly first class of course. Just have them send me the bill and the details and I’ll arrange to have you picked up from the airport.’
‘But.’
‘Good. I need to go now or I’ll miss my flight.’
Art threw down the last of his coffee and dabbed at his mouth, reminding her more than ever of the Belgian detective.
‘Where will I stay?’
‘No need for you to worry about that. I have a suite booked permanently at a nearby hotel. I don’t have guests stay in my private residence. I have to consider my wife’s feelings, but I do like my visitors to be comfortable.’
Then he stood up, shook hands with her, and was gone, leaving her open-mouthed with astonishment and feeling more frightened than she ever had before. Phoebe came in a few minutes later to find Holly still sitting there, her features set with a shocked expression and her breakfast virtually untouched.
‘I’ve always thought the food here was pretty good. Are you trying to tell me something?’
‘Food’s lovely. Just a bit stunned.’
‘Hang on, I’ll go and order some more. Then you can tell me all about it.’
Phoebe disappeared but was back a couple of minutes later.
‘I ordered full English for you. You look like you need it. For me too. And coffee. I know how you like your coffee. So, what did he say?’
‘He wants to do an exhibition. Of my work. Week after next. In Philadelphia!’
Holly finished with a squeak as her voice had risen higher with each statement.
‘Brilliant. I’m so pleased for you. Erm, what was that you said about commission?’
‘He’s showing them, not selling them.’
‘Don’t you believe it, Holly. Art is in a modest way of business, volume wise that is, but he’s famous in his circle and his customers are discerning and wealthy connoisseurs. If he exhibits your paintings they will sell – you can be sure of that – and for far more than you’d get hanging them on the wall here.’
Breakfast arrived and Holly burnt herself on the coffee. It seemed to pull her together though.
‘I can’t do it, Phoebe. Much as I’d love to, I can’t. I’m just becoming established. I can’t close down because I want to go to the States for a week.’
‘Of course you can’t but I’d be happy to stand in for you. And if I know Kate she’ll be there with me. Take this morning for instance. She couldn’t wait.’
***
Whenever Holly looked back the next twelve days were just a hazy memory. Phoebe volunteered to deal with the travel arrangements, though Holly applied for a tourist visa waiver herself. It was processed instantly. She made sure the shop was fully stocked and everything price-labelled. She wanted to make it as easy as possible for her friends. The thing she felt most guilty about was cancelling the classes but everyone was so excited on her behalf that her conscience was eased.
Art had seen enough of her work at the Manor to know he liked it so he left the choice of paintings to Holly and this had to be her first task, as she needed to contact his carriers. He’d left instructions about who would pack and ship them to the States, and very little other information. She knew this would be the most difficult thing of all, deciding what to send, so she enlisted the help of Emma who would be a bit more objective than she could herself.
‘Since sticking a pin in them or saying “ip, dip, dip, my little ship” isn’t an option, why don’t you send as broad a sample as you can. That way you’ll reach a wider audience, taste wise at least.’
‘You’re right, Em, but which?’ Holly asked desperately.
‘We’ll do it by taking it in turns. You choose one. I choose one. We don’t have exactly the same taste so we’ll probably get more of a variety that way.’
Emma’s help was invaluable. She could look with a trained eye, not just for something that took her fancy but examples that in her opinion showed Holly’s talent off to best advantage. Somehow they managed to whittle it down to twelve. Fortunately what Holly referred to as her London clothes still fitted her. There was no time to go shopping for new. Kate lent her a suitcase with a lovely matching piece of hand luggage.
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Why not? Let’s face it, I’m not going to be using them any time soon.’