Chapter Fifteen
No. That was rubbish.
Tammy ripped out the page from her sketch pad, screwed it up and dropped it in the bin next to the counter.
In between serving customers, she’d been trying to sketch out ideas for a dolphin-inspired sand art.
She hadn’t even got beyond the paper stage yet, let alone transferred it to her iPad to check dimensions and scale and see how it would look on the actual beach.
And she had less than three weeks left to be ready.
She wasn’t panicking yet, but she did feel constantly on edge, as if she was crouched on the starting blocks for a hundred-metre sprint.
It was even more difficult to concentrate when her mind kept wandering to those kisses on the beach, Ruan’s hands at her waist, the warmth of her body so tantalisingly close to his.
Fun, mutual benefits, a good time … No. She had to drag her focus back to work.
In a few short days, so many new opportunities had landed in her life and she wanted to fully embrace them all.
Luckily, Tuesdays in the gallery were pretty quiet, but she’d still had to do some actual work alongside her failed planning. She’d packaged up some prints of Porthmellow Harbour and a small bronze of a seal that had been ordered by online customers, ready to take them to the post office later.
Among the tourists buying greetings cards and giving their sometimes quite rude opinions of the artwork was a craggy middle-aged man with a German accent wearing very tight orange jeans.
Despite his dubious dress sense, he turned out to be her best customer for weeks, buying one of Davey’s larger bowls and an original acrylic of Breda’s. The bill was over six hundred pounds but the German, whose name was Jürgen, didn’t bat an eyelid.
Tammy chatted to him as she carefully packed up the items.
‘You have great taste. These are stunning pieces. Both the artists live and work here in Porthmellow. The ceramicist actually has his studio at the back of the gallery here.’
Jürgen lapped up every detail, which was no surprise to Tammy, who found that most customers wanted to hear as much as possible about the artist. Engaging with them was a big part of the job and Tammy found it a hundred times easier to talk about and big up other artists’ work than her own.
It gave her a glow to hear someone praise Davey’s work and she knew Breda would also be delighted.
Davey didn’t charge her anywhere near as much commission as he did for the other artists whose work he had on show.
During the quiet post-lunch lull, she went back to her sketching and managed to create a passable design of a dolphin that could work.
Obviously, she already knew the tide times and the beach landscape for the festival, but the pieces would still be a major undertaking.
She wanted her work to complement the beach rather than dominate it …
she wondered if she really could persuade Ruan to have a go at drawing on Thursday.
The gallery bell rang as the door opened and a tall woman entered.
Tammy glanced down to find she’d doodled a figure in the corner of the sketch pad. It was Ruan striding across the beach, his wetsuit peeled down.
‘Hello, darling!’ the woman said, coming to the counter heralded by a cloud of gardenia fragrance and carrying a large bubble-wrapped picture. ‘Are you busy?’
In contrast to the tourists in their shorts and T-shirts, Breda St James wore a black column dress. It would have looked as severe as Ruan’s suit but for the coppery silk scarf draped casually around her neck.
‘Er. Not really,’ Tammy said, covering the sketch with some tissue wrap. ‘It’s nice to see you, Breda. Have you come to see Davey?’
‘Well, I was hoping to see him,’ Breda said cautiously, her silver earrings jingling. With her chic Afro crop and elegant looks, she was a complete contrast to Davey.
She rested the picture against the counter. ‘Unless, of course, he’s too busy with this hotel commission he mentioned. To be honest, I’m surprised to see you here, Tammy.’ Her brow wrinkled. ‘I thought you were busy preparing for the OceanFest?’
‘I am. I can do planning for that while I’m here.’ She patted the sketch pad under the tissue paper. ‘I’ve been working on some preliminary ideas.’
‘Oh, can I see?’
‘Um. Er … they’re really not very good,’ Tammy insisted. ‘Most of the early ones have gone in the bin.’
‘OK, if you’d rather keep them to yourself at this stage of the creative process, I understand, darling,’ Breda said.
‘Thanks,’ Tammy said, relieved that Breda wasn’t going to see her attempts for all kinds of reasons. Breda was a very talented mixed media artist who specialised in local landscapes. She’d won tons of awards and got to the finals of a prestigious TV show.
‘I also heard a rumour about Davey getting some teenager in to help out. I told him he could have asked me. I really wouldn’t have minded.’
‘I don’t think he wanted to bother you when you’re busy with your own work,’ Tammy said, trying to be as diplomatic as she could. It was up to Davey to explain why he hadn’t asked for Breda’s help. ‘Um. Do you want me to tell Davey you’re here?’
‘Not if he’s that busy and stressed out.
I wouldn’t want to interrupt him,’ she said haughtily while glancing at the open door that led through to the studio.
‘I can hear the wheel going from here. Actually, I mainly dropped by to deliver the landscape of Sennen Cove that a French customer ordered. It only came back from the framer today. I know Davey usually arranges for the courier to send them but if you’re both up against it, I could do it. I’d need all their details though.’
‘That’s really kind of you,’ Tammy said, feeling sorry for Breda and annoyed with Davey for having put her off.
Breda shrugged. ‘It’s no problem. I have errands in town anyway and it’s never a wasted journey to drop into the gallery. You say Davey’s super busy?’
‘He says he is, but why don’t you speak to him? I’m sure he’d be disappointed to miss you,’ Tammy said cheerfully, though she was by no means certain of Davey’s reaction. She didn’t care. Breda was lovely and deserved his attention.
‘Well, I was going to see if he’s interested in some photographic collages of Porthmellow I’ve been working on.’
‘I’m sure he will be. Your work practically flies off the walls and he’s been working since breakfast, so he’ll need a break.’
At that moment, Davey’s own voice boomed from the hall that led into the gallery floor. ‘Tammy, have you been to the post office yet? Because I have another order that I promised to send today.’
Spotting Breda, he stopped, wiping his hands on an old towel and looked up guiltily. ‘Oh,’ he mumbled. ‘It’s you.’
Tammy winced. There was no helping him.
Breda fixed him with a glare. ‘Hello, Davey. I was beginning to think you’d been hiding from me.’
He laughed out loud. ‘Now why would I do that?’
‘No idea, but I haven’t been able to get hold of you. Tammy says you’re tied up with this hotel commission, but I’d started to worry you’d lost your phone …’
‘No, I’ve er – just been so wrapped up in work.’
‘So I hear. You need a hand in the shop too, according to Tammy. Why are you relying on that inexperienced lad when I could help out?’
‘I think I’ll put the kettle on,’ Tammy piped up. Davey could fight his own battles. ‘See you later, Breda.’
‘Thanks, Tammy.’
Avoiding Davey’s eye, Tammy scuttled into the studio kitchen, deciding it was a good thing that Davey finally had to confront Breda and explain.
At the same time, she dreaded what might come of the conversation.
What if he and Breda had split up? Was that why Davey had been losing sleep – because he wanted to end their relationship?
She was sure Breda wanted to carry on – maybe she even wanted to take things a stage further?
Until he’d met Breda, Davey had been a confirmed bachelor, despite the efforts of several local ladies.
Then again, she was hardly Ms Commitment herself, as Lola would testify.
Tammy heaved a sigh and sipped the coffee she hadn’t really wanted. She had enough on her own plate without worrying about Davey’s love life.