Chapter 8
Eight
Known for her portraits and the vividly coloured decorative quality of her work. Look at life story of Frida, examine cultural aspect – compare Mexican folk art.
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
Callie stretched luxuriously, enjoying the cool cotton against her skin.
She’d slept better than she had for years.
Must be the sea air. Sliding up in bed and reaching for her glass of water she giggled at the time, her head slightly groggy.
She’d slept in. Unusual. Even during the long summer break she tended to wake at six.
Going to the window she drank in the view.
Brilliant sun made diamonds dance on the sea and the harbour was busy with people messing about on boats.
She could even hear excited childish voices floating up in the breeze.
A fishing boat chugged out through the gap in the harbour wall, a pirate flag fluttering and its side painted with the sign, Bay Fishing Trips.
She watched until the bright light made her eyes hurt.
She and Johnny had eaten her pasta and his garlic bread, drunk another bottle of wine and had fun.
The evening had stayed sultry, so they’d returned to the garden and chatted and laughed until late.
She’d been fascinated by his descriptions of living in some of the most exciting cities in the world and had giggled through his review of a particularly experimental version of Romeo and Juliet which he’d just seen at The Other Place theatre in Stratford.
Callie made a promise to book something. It had been ages since she’d seen any theatre and after all Stratford wasn’t too far from Worcester. It had been so late they’d left the clearing up to do this morning.
Feeling the beginnings of a hangover headache kicking in, she half hoped Johnny had got up early and done it. The last thing she wanted to face was the creamy pan she’d made carbonara in. Ferreting in her bag for aspirin and glugging back more water she began to feel slightly more human.
On her way back from the bathroom she heard her phone ring. Pouncing on it she saw, to her relief, it was her daughter.
‘Frida!’
‘Jeez, Mum, you don’t have to shriek.’
‘Sorry, love. It’s just so good to hear from you.’
‘I texted.’
Callie made a cushion of the pillows and slid back onto the bed. Reining in her exasperation she said, ‘You did. But I’ve been dying to know what it’s like. Is it hot? What’s the villa like? Have you been in the sea? What’s Leah been up to? Are you being sensible?’
Frida laughed. ‘Muuuuum!’
‘Well, what’s it like?’
‘Bit wild. I’ve left Leah to it most nights. I’m not keen on the nightlife.’
‘You left her on her own? You’ve been on your own?’ Callie couldn’t stop a note of concern creeping in.
‘Nah. Leah’s mate, Alice, whose parents own the villa, is really nice. I’ve hung out with her and some Dutch boys we met. Leah’s been out with Alice’s sister. They’re into clubbing more than Alice and me.’
Callie swallowed the information. It sounded as if Frida was being sensible. ‘And how’s the tan coming on?’
‘It’s well hot, Mum, I’ve been in the shade most of the time. Yesterday it was 41C, so we hung out by the pool. It was well lush. I’ve been reading loads.’
‘And you found your charger?’
‘What?’
‘You said that’s why you hadn’t rung or texted much.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘So it’s all working out okay then? You’re having a good time?’
‘Having a pretty good time.’
‘Drinking plenty of water, got enough money? Using sunscreen?’
Frida laughed again. ‘I’m not the one who goes lobster red in seconds.’
Frida had inherited her father’s cappuccino skin and lustrous black hair. ‘No, but you still need to protect your skin, kiddo. Or it’ll be wrinkle city by the time you get to my age.’
‘Understood. So, how’s your place? Nice?’
‘It’s lovely. Really lovely.’ Callie glanced at the blue sky scudding with cotton wool clouds glimpsed through her bedroom window. ‘The view is wonderful. Only–’
‘Only?’
‘I’m sharing the place.’
‘Noooo! How come?’
Callie settled back and filled her daughter in.
Through spluttering laughter Frida responded. ‘Sounds like you’ve landed on your feet there. Sounds like he’s a hottie.’
‘Thought you’d say that.’
‘Go for it, Mum. Silver fox and all.’
‘Thought you’d say that too.’ Callie heard someone knocking on the front door. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. Keep in touch, you hear!’
‘Will do. Bye, Mum.’
Barefoot, Callie padded down the steep cottage stairs. A note pinned to the noticeboard said Johnny had gone for a run and would do the clearing up when he got back. She swung back the front door, hazily thinking he may have forgotten his key.
‘I’m so sorry about this. There was nothing I could do.’
Callie stared at the girl with the wildly curling brown hair and startlingly blue eyes who was standing on the doorstep of Sea Haven House jiggling a baby on her hip. The voice was familiar, but she didn’t know the face. And why was she sorry?
An older woman’s voice boomed from the gate. ‘That hike up this hill will see me off. Far too steep.’ A tiny older woman, her petite appearance at odds with her carrying tones, began walking up to the house.
She was followed by a well-rounded version. ‘I agree, Maria. Far too steep. I’m out of puff.’
A third woman, tall and with a florid complexion, followed. ‘By Jove, that’s a climb,’ she exclaimed. ‘But you and Maria did insist on accompanying Jessica, so you’ve only got yourselves to blame.’
The young woman holding the baby grimaced. ‘As I said, I can only apologise. Tried putting them off with a walk around the harbour but failed.’ She grinned, dimples appearing.
Callie looked at her, to the baby, then to the trio of old women and back to her with mounting horror. ‘Jessica?’ she squeaked. No wonder the voice was familiar, Callie had spoken to her on the phone about the art competition.
‘That’s me. Jessica Starling. You must be Calliope.
’ Thrusting out a hand she shook Callie’s.
‘Thought I’d introduce myself in person.
It was supposed to be a solo mission, but The Aunts overheard and, I’m afraid, rather jumped on board.
’ She leaned closer. ‘There was nothing I could do. Once they get an idea in their heads there’s no dissuading them.
They’re on an almighty sugar high from three enormous salted caramel cornets from The Ice Cream Dream Kiosk.
’ She screwed up her face. ‘And I’m afraid it gets worse. Ma and Pa are on their way too.’
‘But… but… but I’m not dressed, the house is a mess and… I’m not dressed,’ Callie repeated limply, horror mounting at the thought of an invasion by most of Johnny’s family.
Jessica looked her up and down. ‘Satin lounging pyjamas. You look fine to me. Besides, you’re an artist. Style it out with some artistic temperament and eccentricity.
’ And, with that, Jessica brushed by her and into the house, followed by The Aunts.
They made themselves comfortable in the sitting room, leaving Callie speechless and embarrassed. Her head began to throb in earnest.
‘Well, I must say, this is jolly pleasant,’ the thin aunt said, who Callie had established was called Maria. ‘Isn’t it, Becky?’
‘It is,’ the curvier aunt replied. ‘Jolly pleasant.’
‘Super to do a reccie on young Johnny’s gaff,’ the tallest aunt said.
‘It wasn’t the reason for my visit, Aunt Sybil,’ Jessica put in, reprovingly.
‘No?’ Sybil said it innocently but Callie caught the wink.
‘Smashing to see a different part of the town although,’ at this she fetched out a large white handkerchief and mopped her face, ‘I’d forgotten just how jolly steep this hill is.
Rather glad to have a sit-down-breather before we mosey on up further. ’
‘It’s called God Almighty Hill apparently,’ Callie said, edging over to shield the worst of the disaster in the kitchen and raking her hair into some kind of order.
‘Because the only thing you can gasp when you’ve got to the top is, God Almighty.
’ How had she got to standing in front of a mess of dirty pans, crockery and unwashed wine glasses in her pyjamas, entertaining four strangers?
Sybil began to laugh. It began as a quivering of her magnificent bosom, gurgled up into her throat making her jowls swing and emanated from her mouth as a loud honk.
‘Oh I say, that’s funny,’ she managed when the laughter stopped.
‘That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard since I got here.
Did you hear, Maria? God Almighty Hill.’ She slapped a hefty thigh.
‘Have to say I was blaspheming like a good ’un on that climb up from the harbour.
God Almighty Hill. Oh, I say!’ she roared.
Maria nodded and joined in. ‘Too funny,’ she spluttered.
Becky glanced at her sisters and got the joke. ‘Oh I say. Too funny!’
Johnny chose that moment to appear after his run.
Callie tried not to notice his long well-muscled legs.
Even hot and sweaty he was, well, hot. He seemed his usual calm self but she noticed a muscle tense in his cheek.
He surveyed the scene. ‘This all sounds fun. What’s going on?
And why are you all here?’ Filling a glass from the kitchen tap he drank it down in one, slammed it onto the kitchen work surface and mouthed, ‘Sorry,’ at her.
‘The Aunts are finding the name of Harbour Hill extremely amusing,’ Jessica said.
He frowned. ‘What’s so funny about Harbour Hill? It’s hilly and leads up from the harbour.’ He shrugged, nonplussed.
This elicited another round of laughter.
‘Let you in on the joke when your parents arrive, dear boy,’ Sybil said, in between snorts and guffaws. ‘Dorrie will appreciate it.’
Callie moved towards the kettle. Only one thing would do in such circumstances, and that was tea. Ignoring the pan with the remains of her carbonara in, she filled the kettle and flicked it on.
Johnny came close, whispering in her ear, ‘I’ll make the tea. If you want to escape, feel free.’