Chapter 28
Daisy quickly learned that a moving animal who constantly wanted stones thrown for him was a less-than-ideal model.
To start with, she found it near impossible to decide what pose she wanted to draw him in. He looked so cute when he was sitting on the ground, looking up at her, eyes wide, waiting for her to throw a stone, but she liked to have a level of movement and animation in her character paintings. So, in that sense, she knew it would be far better if she painted him running. Then there was a moment when he was lying down, his head between his paws, which was utterly adorable. But given that he only did it once, it was too difficult to get the proportions rights with no reference, and so she opted for her first idea – stone in his mouth, looking up at her. She even snapped a photo of him too, so she could work on it later when the light had changed.
The light was another thing that Daisy decided to paint that night. Or at least the sunset.
As often happened when Daisy started painting, one idea led to another, and it wasn’t hard to be inspired by the views outside her window and it was only when Yvonne said she’d fixed them a simple dish of pasta and cheese for dinner, did she realise how late it was. She wasn’t the only one who had lost track of time, though.
Daisy had stopped throwing stones over an hour earlier so that she could concentrate on the painting. She had assumed that if she stayed strong and didn’t give in to his wide, pleading eyes, the dog would get bored and go back home to his owners, but that hadn’t happened and even as they sat at the table eating, Daisy could hear him padding up and down the stone path outside.
As she wolfed down her food, Daisy found herself desperate to get back to her painting. It was a tough balance. The last thing Daisy wanted was to appear rude, especially when Yvonne was the one helping her out, but normally, if she was painting like this, she wouldn’t even stop for an actual meal, just picking at a few snacks as she worked instead. And that night, she really worked.
After taking several snaps of the sunset, Daisy left her unfinished painting of the dog to dry and got to work on her second piece of the day – a sunset over the marshland.
‘It’s like a diary,’ Yvonne said, leaning over Daisy’s shoulder to look at her work so far. It was a habit that used to drive Daisy mad when she was younger; her mother would always lean over her shoulder well before the paintings were finished and when she didn’t want anyone to see them. And that dislike of peering hadn’t gone anywhere, but rather than snapping at Yvonne the way teenage Daisy would have done, she simply sat back in her chair and looked at the painting.
‘I suppose it is. Although I didn’t paint anything yesterday.’
‘Well, it’s not too late. You could paint something from passing through Maldon. Or a seal, maybe. Then you could take photos of the paintings and post them online. It’ll be a nice memory. And you never know, you might get some followers. That’s what they call it, isn’t it? People who like your things on the internet? Followers?’
Daisy smiled at the comment. ‘Yes, I guess it is.’
Staring at the two unfinished paintings, she pondered Yvonne’s suggestion. Ever since the charity auction, Daisy had promised herself she would work more on promoting her work – post pictures on social media, perhaps create an online gallery, that type of thing. But life always seemed to get in the way. There were always other jobs to do. Only tonight, there wasn’t. With the coffee shop closed, there was no need to do extra baking, and as long as they were being dictated to by the tides, it seemed silly not to make the most of these quiet evenings.
‘You know what, you’re right,’ she said. ‘I’m going to do it. A diary in paintings. And I can post one a day online.’
Yvonne smiled broadly. ‘Well, that sounds just fantastic. I’m sure your mother and friends will love to see all the adventures we’re getting up to. Not to mention your artwork.’
The comment caused a twist of uncertainty in Daisy. Sharing her work publicly would mean that everyone had access to it, including Theo. Her turning up in Slimbridge would hardly be a surprise if he’d watched the entire journey documented in watercolours.
‘Maybe it’ll be best if I do it under a new account,’ she said, more to herself than Yvonne. ‘I could call it something like “Canvases and Canals”. Or“Art Afloat”.’
Her mind turned over with the various ideas as she saw the vision coming to life.
‘Well, it seems like you’ve got lots to be getting on with,’ Yvonne said, breaking Daisy’s train of thought. ‘Probably best if I head to bed and leave you to it.’
Daisy was about to wish her goodnight when she glanced at the clock and saw it was barely nine o’clock.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked, putting her paintbrush in the water and finally tearing her eyes away from her work. ‘Sorry if I’m being antisocial, but please don’t think you have to disappear to bed. You really don’t. You can watch a film if you like?’
With a thin smile, Yvonne placed a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. ‘That’s very sweet of you, dear, but really, I’m used to having the evenings to myself too, and I’ve always been one for an early night. Don’t worry about me, though; I’ve got a Kindle full of books that’ll keep me occupied for years. You have a good night, my dear, but don’t be too late to bed. It’s a big day tomorrow.’
‘Aren’t they all?’ Daisy replied.
‘They are. That’s how you know you’re living.’