Part 21 (2/2)
'What, just like that?
'Otherwise youll die of old age waiting to get a word in somewhere.
Breathe once. And again. 'Russell, hows the painting going?
He broke off. 'Fairs fair, Jenny. Im up to here in donkeys, dinner parties, and divorce at the moment.
I didnt say anything.
He sighed. 'Dont do that.
'What?
'Not say anything.
I didnt say anything again.
'Well, I dont have any gear, of course. I threw it all away.
'Theres a very good art shop near the castle in Rushford.
'Its not that easy.
Breathe once. And again. 'No, I know its not. You stopped painting because of Francesca. You told yourself you couldnt do it without her. Then it stopped being a reason and became an excuse.
He stopped and looked at me, then continued walking. 'Its a good job were getting divorced. Youre a bit scary sometimes.
I wouldnt let him change the subject.
'You might be right. OK, you are right. Im worried ... I worry I dont have it any more. What I was painting then was my life as I saw it. Full of joy and exuberance and confidence. I took chances. They paid off. But Im not the same person now. I dont doubt Ive still got the same technical expertise, but the spark, the thing that jumped from me to the canvas and burst into life thats gone. Without it, I might just as well paint walls for a living. And, quite honestly, Im afraid to find out. So I keep putting it off. Because if it has gone ...
I took his hand.
He seemed surprised, but didnt try to pull away.
I said, 'Do it. Take a chance.
He smiled sadly and shook his head. 'You dont know what youre asking.
'Yes I do. I took a chance. Now its your turn.
We walked for a long time in silence. I wasnt going to nag and I know from Aunt Julia that according to men, mentioning the same thing twice in one decade const.i.tutes nagging, so I shut up.
'Do you want to come to the shop with me?
'Love to.
'Well, all right, then.
'Good.
'Ill do it.
'Fine.
'Look, youve got your own way. Have the decency to let me have the last word, will you?
'OK.
Chapter Eight.
After all our efforts, the morning room looked lovely. Well, better than before, anyway. We had candles because although the walls had recently been beautifully painted, the curtains, rugs, and chair coverings were scruffy. By candlelight, it was shabby chic.
Russell was despatched to get the front door working. There was a lot of banging and cursing all part of the male ritual, Thomas a.s.sured me, culminating in an ear-splitting screech which set Marilyn off.
'Were going to have the council round at this rate, shouted Russell. 'Is anyone capable of doing anything quietly in this house?
Sharon, laying the table at whisper-level, just grinned.
Russell and I were pushed upstairs to get ready. He resisted every inch of the way.
'Its only a family dinner, for heavens sake. Why cant I wear jeans?
n.o.body bothered to reply and he stumped grumpily off to his room. My reminder that the whole evening was his fault was met with a frosty stare and the comment that the next twelve months couldnt go quickly enough for him.
We regrouped in the kitchen. Mrs Crisp and Sharon wore black. I wore my long-sleeved black dress and Russell wore a black s.h.i.+rt and trousers.
'Good grief, said Thomas. 'Its like a bunch of black holes in deep mourning.
Tanya and Andrew arrived first, so we had a bit of a breathing s.p.a.ce.
They tried to get in through the kitchen but Russell made them go around and knock on the front door. There was cousinly shouting. He dragged it open to the usual screeching fanfare, echoed by a small donkey in the stables.
'I dont believe any of this, said Andrew. 'I swear this house gets more like Fred Karnos Army every day.
'Good evening, Tanya, said Russell, ignoring him. 'May I take your coat?
She handed it over. She was wearing black. There was no hope for any of us.
'What about my coat? said Andrew.
'What about it? said Russell, steering Tanya into the living room.
I took his coat, feeling a little guilty that some twenty-four hours after hed begged me to stick with it, I was contemplating divorcing his cousin.
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