CHAPTER NINETEEN
Zak came home at the weekend, arriving on Saturday evening and leaving on Sunday afternoon.
I tried not to mind that his visit was so brief this time. It was all in a good cause and once the book was finished, we could make up for lost time and celebrate.
He was full of enthusiasm and more than once, I laughingly told him I wished I could bottle his high energy and zest for life because I could really do with some of it myself!
I was really pleased, though, that his writing was back on track. Zak was such a talented author and I knew that no other job would fulfil him in quite the same way. I just wished he would let me read what he’d written so far. I tried not to mind that the mysterious Rachel had a jump on me there...
‘How’s Rachel getting on?’ I asked casually as we prepared dinner together on the Saturday night.
‘Fine.’ He went to the fridge and brought out some wine. ‘Yes. She’s... a few chapters in. I’ve promised to help her with the practical stuff once the book’s finished.’
‘Great. Have you read her chapters? Are they good?’
He brought out glasses and poured the wine. ‘Er... yes. Good.’
I nodded. ‘Has she read yours?’
‘What? No.’ He smiled over at me. ‘You’re my beta reader. You know that.’
‘Right.’ I beamed at him. ‘So can I read it, then? The story so far?’
‘Of course. When it’s finished. Like we always do.’ He handed me a glass and we clinked. ‘To us! And the new book.’
‘To the new book – which I’m certain is going to be a big success.’ I conjured up a cheerful smile while my insides clenched with worry.
I’d clearly heard Zak on the phone that night, asking Rachel if she’d read the chapters.
So why was he lying to me about it?
*****
On Sunday morning, the weather was fresh but bright, so we went for a walk at a local beauty spot then called in for something to eat at a pub nearby. One of Maisie’s friends was having a birthday party that afternoon, so we drove there after our late lunch.
Zak and I were going to Kenzie’s exhibition afterwards, and on the spur of the moment, I gave Rhona a call, asking if she’d like to come along with us. She and Zak hadn’t yet met, but I knew they’d get on.
The instant her phone started to ring, though, I suddenly remembered the guy who’d come into the café with Mac. He was exhibiting his paintings at the same venue. But Rhona had reacted so oddly to him. What if she saw him there?
I was about to end the call, but it was too late. She’d picked up.
‘Hi, Ellie. Everything okay?’
I explained where we were going and she agreed immediately.
‘I’ve always loved going to galleries... spending time around creative people,’ she said, rather wistfully. ‘You never know, you might find some paintings you like for your new house.’
‘That’s true. And crockery. Kenzie’s new design is gorgeous.’
When we dropped Maisie at the birthday party, Zak gave her an extra big hug, knowing he wouldn’t see her until the following weekend. She hugged him back tightly, then she pulled away and ran through to the living room with Lucy to join their other friends, chatting excitedly, having clearly forgotten about us already!
‘I guess she doesn’t miss me too much while I’m away, then,’ smiled Zak as we drove to the exhibition. We were meeting Rhona there.
I chuckled. ‘I suppose Maisie’s got used to the situation. Kids are very adaptable, you know.’
He smiled at me. ‘So I’ve heard.’
*****
It was Sunday afternoon and the car park was busy.
The gallery was in an old Victorian factory building that had been renovated and turned into an arts and crafts hub on three floors with a central staircase. There was a section on the ground floor devoted to handmade jewellery and another to fabrics, and paintings in all different styles hung on the walls around us. A sign pointed to pottery and sculpture on the first floor, with a café at the very top.
I spotted Rhona almost immediately. She was leaning over a glass case, examining some hand-made jewellery on display. She waved us over and pointed at a silver bracelet.
‘Isn’t this gorgeous? I’m going to have to stop myself spending a fortune here.’ She straightened. ‘You must be Zak. I’ve heard some terrible things about you.’ She smiled. ‘Only joking. It’s all good.’
Laughing, I did the introductions, and Rhona started asking Zak a series of intelligent questions about his writing as we walked around, looking at the crafts on display.
Sometimes it could be awkward, introducing people, but not in this case. Zak seemed to have warmed to Rhona straight away. In fact, they were chatting away so naturally together that I found myself wandering off to look at some paintings that had attracted my attention on a wall nearby.
There were a mix of seascapes and landscapes and then a row of single spring flowers in vases – a snowdrop, a daffodil and a crocus. One of the paintings in particular caught my eye and I moved closer to examine it.
It was a seascape with jolly boats in a harbour in vibrant shades of red, blue and green. Couples strolled along the promenade, hand in hand, and there was a family with their dog. The boats had names and I leaned closer to read them. There was an Eliza, a Beatrice and an Emily, and an old paddle steamer called Hamish.
‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ said a voice at my shoulder.
I turned and a young woman with a neat blonde bob and a cheery smile was standing there.
‘It is. It’s got so much... life in it. I could gaze at it for ages and still keep finding something new to smile at.’
She nodded. ‘It’s great when you really connect with a painting. There’s some great stuff here.’ She glanced around her.
‘We’re actually here to support a friend who’s a potter. She makes the most wonderful crockery and vases. But we’ve just bought a house and I’ve been thinking about what to put on the walls.’ I smiled. ‘A picture like this, maybe? I just think it really stands out.’ I pointed at the floral watercolours. ‘I mean, they’re lovely. But they don’t inspire me to look closer, if you know what I mean? Not like this one.’ I laughed. ‘Listen to me! I know absolutely nothing about art.’
‘Well, you know what you like. That has to be the most important thing, surely?’
‘I guess so. I wonder how much this one is?’
She frowned. ‘Ooh, not sure. I’ll need to ask the artist.’
‘You know her?’ I asked in surprise. I’d assumed she was a visitor like me.
She pointed to a dark-haired young girl who was standing rather awkwardly nearby, looking as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. ‘That’s her over there. My friend, Polly.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘I’m a great champion of Polly’s work. She’s so talented.’ She gave a mischievous little smile. ‘The uninspiring floral watercolours over there are mine.’
‘What?’ I gazed at her in horror, feeling my face flush beetroot red. ‘Really?’
Oh, hell, what on earth did I say about them? I don’t think I was too complimentary!
She leaned closer and murmured, ‘It was very naughty of me to say that. The uninspiring bit, I mean. You also said my paintings were lovely and comments like that keep me going, in hopes of one day creating a masterpiece.’ She shrugged lightly, a twinkle in her eye. ‘It would be a weird world if everyone liked the same art. Lots of people love paintings of flowers. So thankfully, I do very nicely.’ She smiled. ‘I’m Serena, by the way.’
‘Ellie,’ I said, as the embarrassed colour gradually drained from my cheeks. ‘And they are lovely. Your paintings.’ I moved over to look at them. Apart from the four floral paintings, there were others depicting scenes in nature, signed by Serena. She was clearly a talented artist. ‘They’re really lovely.’
‘Thank you. That’s kind of you.’ She grinned. ‘They help to pay the rent so that’s good.’
‘That’s very good,’ I agreed. ‘I mean, it’s a crying shame, really, but how many artists can say they make a real living from the work they do?’
‘Ah, well. We do it for the love of it, of course.’ She smiled ironically. ‘Listen, how about I introduce you to Polly and she can tell you more about her paintings?’
We turned in Polly’s direction but she was no longer standing there.
But as I looked around for her, I spotted someone I recognised.
It was Mac’s friend. The artist. He was looking at a painting on the opposite wall.
And there was Rhona, also studying the artworks and moving dangerously close to him without realising it! Her reaction to him in the café had been startling, to say the least. What would happen if she saw him again now?
I wanted to go and rescue her. But I couldn’t walk away while Serena was still talking to me.
‘Polly’s probably escaped for some fresh air,’ she was saying. ‘She actually finds this whole thing quite stressful, having to talk to strangers about her work and put herself out there. But networking and marketing play a big part in whether or not you’re successful these days.’ Serena smiled fondly. ‘She’s likely in the café. Are you going to be here long?’
‘A while. I could come back.’ I shot a glance over at Rhona.
The pair were getting dangerously close now!
‘Great! I’ll tell her you like this.’ She nodded at the harbour painting. ‘She’ll be delighted.’
‘Okay. Perhaps see you later. Lovely to meet you, anyway.’
I gave her a warm smile and dashed off to distract Rhona before she literally bumped into Mac’s friend.
But halfway over, I realised I was too late. He’d turned to Rhona and they were chatting now. He was pointing at a painting, and Rhona was nodding and making comments of her own about it. When I approached, they were discussing the way the artist had painted the sky, which was dark and threatening.
‘You can almost hear the rumble of thunder,’ said Rhona.
‘And see the flash of lightning,’ he agreed.
They smiled at each other and then Rhona turned and saw me.
‘Ellie. Shall we go and find your friend’s pottery stand?’
‘Great. I think Zak’s already gone upstairs.’
Rhona turned. ‘Nice to see you again,’ she said, and Mac’s friend smiled and raised his hand in farewell to her, before spotting me and giving a surprised smile of recognition. Then he continued his progress along the wall of art.
As we moved away, I glanced at Rhona, puzzled. She didn’t seem ruffled by their second encounter. But maybe it was an act. I suspected Rhona of being good at hiding her true emotions, or at least deflecting away from tricky subjects. Perhaps she’d got her feelings under control now, after that first shock of seeing him?
Upstairs, Kenzie was delighted to see us, and of course I ended up buying more crockery than we actually needed because it was so beautiful.
But I was aware of time moving on. Zak would be gone soon for another five days, and I wanted to spend a few hours alone with him before he left.
When we went back downstairs, I looked for Serena and her friend, Polly, but they were nowhere to be seen. I made a mental note to come back on my own before the exhibition ended and maybe even buy the harbour watercolour I’d liked so much.
‘Have you got time to watch a movie before you rush off?’ I asked airily as we drove home. ‘I’ve got some of your favourite date and walnut cake?’
‘Made by you, of course.’ Zak grinned across at me, teasing, because it was well-known that despite running a highly successful café, I was generally pretty rubbish at baking.
‘Oh, ha ha. No, made by Fen.’
‘Well, in that case...’ He chuckled. ‘Actually, do you mind if I head straight back to Gran’s? I’d like to get some more of the book done today and I don’t want to have to break off to leave when it’s flowing well.’
‘That’s fine.’ I felt my insides squeeze with disappointment, but I was determined not to show it. I wanted to be supportive, not needy.
‘I’d love some of that cake to take with me, though,’ he added with a wink.
Back at the house he went off to pack his bags, whistling cheerfully, and I tried not to let the sound grate on me. I was suddenly feeling rather weepy.
Was it the writing that was filling Zak with all these bouncy, happy feelings?
Or was it the idea of seeing this Rachel person again that was making him so bloody jolly?