Chapter 9 Kate
KATE
That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
Kate tries to stop herself, but she dislikes everything about Tash, right down to the enormous gold tassels on her suede boots. Tash crosses her legs, tassels swinging, boot sole flapping. This does cheer Kate up. She knows how much those boots cost.
She had no idea she could be such a bitch.
Tash waves a finger at them and repeats, “Well, off you go then.” And Kate wonders if Tash could possibly trip and fall in those boots.
It is Linda who fills the gap.
“Shall I start?”
Most nod, gratefully.
“As I said earlier, I’ve tried pretty much everything. But I thought I might have a go at writing. Maybe poetry. Shorter than a book. And how hard can it be? These days it doesn’t even have to rhyme.”
The group smiles along with Linda, who is clearly laughing at herself.
Tash leans forward, “Oh, I think you will find there is a lot more to it than that. Unless, of course, you’re happy producing doggerel.”
“What a good idea.” Linda smiles broadly at her, and Kate knows she is being sarcastic, but wonders if Tash realizes this. “We love our dogs. Thank you, that’s a great subject to start with.”
Kate is surprised to catch a mulish look on Leonard’s face. He hadn’t liked Tash trying to put his wife down.
“Tash, would you like to go next?” Bardy asks.
Tash’s phone pings, and she shakes her head. Without looking up, she waves her hand at him. “No, someone else. Got to answer this text.”
“How about you, Leonard?” Bardy suggests.
Leonard nods at Linda, and she draws a small, framed picture from her canvas bag and hands it to him. He looks down at it, frowning, before turning it to show the group. It depicts an estuary at sunset with boats in the foreground. It is clearly an amateurish watercolor, but Kate rather likes it.
“I’ve done a little bit of painting—watercolors.
My brother, now, he’s really good. Even sold a couple through a local gallery.
I really think I need to give it some proper time.
Focus a bit more on it if I’m going to get better.
Get as good as him.” He looks around the table.
“You may know of my company, Cowland Electrics . . . although perhaps I should call it by its new name, the Cowland Group. I’m no longer involved day-to-day.
Our boys, Ryan and Tim, run it. And well, of course they want to do things differently from their old man, and that’s fair enough . . .”
He seems to lose his thread, and Linda seamlessly picks it up, and Kate finds herself wondering if Linda knits, and also, how long this couple has been married.
“With the boys now able to take the load off Leonard, we have more time. We were involved in a big building project, but now that it’s finished, we can concentrate on ourselves a bit more. ”
Leonard perks up. Baton dropped. New baton safely delivered. “Yes, we built our own house, just behind the sand dunes near the lighthouse. Wonderful location. Straight out onto the beach. The grandchildren love it. Now that was a project management job—”
“Which builder did you use?” Tash cuts across him, putting her phone down.
Leonard looks taken aback, but names a local firm.
Tash registers a small grimace of disparagement, then turns her attention to his painting. Pursing her lips, she narrows her eyes. Eventually, she sighs. “Have you been to any classes?”
“I’m sorry?” Leonard leans forward.
“Classes. Art classes?”
“Well, no. I haven’t really had the time.”
Kate’s beginning to feel quite sorry for Leonard.
Tash sighs again. “Where’s your focal point?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’m not meaning to be rude . . .”
Blimey, what’s she like if she really tries?
“. . . but it needs a focus. A focal point. I do think a beginner’s art class might help you.”
Bardy coughs, and Kate wonders if he is going to say something to this awful woman. But after looking down at his notes, he glances to his right. “Lou?”
Kate catches a look pass between them so eloquent of, We’ve got a right one here. She almost laughs. Then, simultaneously, they glance at Tay, and in that moment, Kate senses they have combined in a common unspoken agreement. She thinks Tash needs to be very careful about what she says to Tay.
Luigi, chest and cheeks puffed out, proclaims, “I’ve been giving wood turning a bit of a go.”
“Have you, mate?” This is clearly news to Bardy. “Sorry, go on.”
“Yep, well, I’ve set up the gear in the garage, and I thought I’d make something rather than just practicing with a bit of wood here and there.”
Both men glance at Tash. But she obviously doesn’t think Luigi’s announcement warrants a comment. Kate sees Luigi relax.
“Tay?” Bardy says, and Kate sees Luigi adjust his position so he has his back to Tay, stomach facing Tash.
Tay raises a hand as if to touch his back, then drops it. But Kate hears a muttered . . . something . . . Chad? It might have been “Thanks.”
Tay then faces Tash. “Don’t know yet. Not decided.
” Her head is on one side, eyes boring into Tash’s.
Kate sees it for what it is—a challenge.
Tash looks away first. She doesn’t blame her.
For all the apparent vulnerability, there is something rock-hard tough about Tay. Kate hears Bardy and Lou exhale.
“So, who’s left?” Bardy pushes on. “Pia?”
Pia speaks with gentle confidence, “I am not a creative person, but Kate persuaded me to come along. I have lived in the area for some time but haven’t met many people, so I thought it would be nice to make some new friends.” She turns to Bardy and smiles.
Kate thinks the man holds up well. But there is no doubt he is melting slightly.
“I thought it was interesting what you, Bardy, said about creativity. I do not think of myself in this way, but maybe I concentrate too much on my work, and it would be fun to try something new.” She looks around at all of them, “Or put a new twist on an old family tradition. Our roots are in Denmark and Sweden, and the women in our family have always quilted. Nowadays it’s all about the ‘hygge,’ as you know.
” Her smile holds a touch of mischief, and Kate thinks this makes this beautiful woman even more attractive.
“It is something I did as a girl and as a young woman. Now, as an older woman, I thought maybe it would be nice to make my Norfolk version of a Danish quilt.”
“How lovely,” Linda comments.
It seems Bardy can’t actually speak.
Kate’s heart sinks. Ah, well. It had been a nice daydream.
“Can you actually make a quilt for this competition?” Tash asks, getting out her phone and scrolling through the rules and regulations. “Seems a bit artsy-craftsy to me.”
“I think you can pretty much do what you like. What did you have in mind, Tash?” Bardy asks.
She puts her phone down and pulls her bag onto her lap. She pauses, self-importantly. “I’m an artist by training. I guess it’s always been in my blood. I started in acrylics, but that medium didn’t really satisfy me. Not ‘hands-on’ or ‘hands-in’ enough for me.”
Kate wonders how often she has used this phrase.
“So I turned to sculpture. And it felt like coming home.” With great reverence, Tash reveals the bronze sculpture of a dog’s head. It is a pug.
Kate thinks it looks mighty pissed off.
There is silence around the room.
“Very lifelike,” Linda starts.
“Yes, a proper work of art,” Leonard says, once again following his wife’s lead.
Kate thinks what nice people they are. “You could get Noy done,” she suggests, turning to Pia.
Pia looks at her with something like horror combined with confusion. She nods slightly.
She doesn’t know if I’m joking.
Kate gives the tiniest of winks, and she sees Pia’s face relax into a grin.
“Um, Tash,” Bardy says, tentatively. “Do you sell these?”
“Of course. My pugs are very much sought after, and I have just had a commission for a Crufts best in show bulldog.”
“Tash, you do know the MACKL competition is just for novices. People who’ve never sold any work. It’s really for amateurs, mainly beginners.”
“No, it’s not,” Tash counters.
“Uh, it is. I hate to tell you,” Bardy says. He adds, “I’m really sorry.”
Pia whispers to Kate, “He does not sound very sorry.”
Kate doesn’t answer. She is staring in horror at Tash, who is now flicking through her phone.
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” She stops scrolling and starts reading.
“Could you have made the text any smaller!” She glares at Bardy.
“What a total waste of an evening.” Tash stands up and, covering up her pug, picks up her bag.
“If you had made that clear, I would never have come. There are hundreds, and I mean hundreds of other things I need to do.” Her bag bangs into Luigi’s chair as she turns and strides to the door.
All eyes watch her as she struggles back into her coat, muttering, “Six hundred pounds for a pair of boots and they don’t last a bloody month. ”
All but one pair of eyes. Kate is staring ahead of her at a spot a few centimeters from her nose. What the hell is she going to do? She hadn’t read that part about the competition either. All she had seen was a creative competition that encouraged people.
She didn’t realize it was targeting beginners.
What is she going to say? To stand up now would be like aligning herself with Tash, and that is the last thing she wants.
By now, Tash is at the door, muttering, “I should have known! Dog poetry, cutesy quilts, wood turning, sunset watercolors . . .” The last thing they hear as the door slams behind her is, “It’s just so bloody amateurish. ”
“Well, dear, we all are amateurs. That’s rather the point,” Linda comments to the closed door, as relief and laughter sweep around the table. Even Tay smiles.
But Kate isn’t laughing. She knows she shouldn’t be here either. She should be heading down the stairs after Tash.
For she is certainly no amateur.
She is JoJo Rose.