Page 14 of The House on Waterfall Hill

‘Me neither,’ Katherine said and Aidan shook his head vehemently.

‘I’m not expecting you to. As I said, all of your work is exquisite and I’m sure more than deserving of the price tag. But Rose, for example, you could offer prints of your work for a fraction of the price. You could evenlook into getting some of your paintings printed on mugs, bags, t-shirts, mouse mats, the options are endless. That doesn’t compromise your work but it makes it more accessible for the average person. Katherine, you could do smaller mosaics, coasters for example, pots, tree decorations. Aidan, you could do mugs, plates and bowls for example, or very small versions of your brilliant sculptures. Luke, you could do the same. Ethel, your embroidery is beautiful, you could offer some personalised embroidery like an initial or a name, you could embroider pictures of animals. I can advertise our working studios, do Facebook or Instagram ads, put notices up on local online forums. But there’s no point encouraging people to come up here if they can’t afford anything.’

‘You want us to produce tat for the tourists?’ Ethel said, distastefully.

‘I want you to get some sales, because surely twenty-five pounds is better than nothing?’

‘It will still take a lot of our time to make things like this, even on a smaller scale,’ Aidan said. ‘My time and skill are worth more than twenty-five pounds.’

Rose nodded. ‘Even the smallest canvas, say four by five inches, would easily be fifty pounds to reflect my level of skill and experience.’

‘Maybe you could not put so much time and effort into the smaller pieces,’ Flick tried.

The looks around the room were scandalised.

‘Look, we have to do something,’ Luke said. ‘Audrey has basically been funding this place, single-handedlyfor years, with little to nothing from us. She sold her house in the town to continue paying for it. And we all know why. This was her husband’s dream. A place to help people with brain injuries with art and somewhere for artists to work and create their art. It’s time we gave something back. And let’s face it, if this place closes, you’re never going to find another studio space that doesn’t charge anything for rent or other bills. Clearly none of usneedthe money or we would have realised we had to change our way of working years ago. So we have to make a choice, pack up and find studio space somewhere else if your integrity means so much to you, or come up with some kind of compromise. Flick has come up with some great suggestions to sell cheaper pieces and I really think you need to consider them. It doesn’t mean you have to stop doing the bigger stuff that you all love doing, but you need to come up with something that brings some money in too.’

They all grumbled and muttered between them. Flick really hoped none of them would take Luke’s first option and pack up and leave. A working studio with no artists would be even harder to save. But then again, with such favourable conditions, she could probably persuade other artists to come in their place. Maybe that was what this place needed, some fresh blood. And if the conditions were clear from the start, that the artists had to produce cheaper alternatives alongside the more expensive stuff, then at least everyone would know where they stood and what was expected.

She took a deep breath because kicking out theresident artists was probably not part of her nan’s plan for change but she had to do something to show them she was serious. ‘I totally understand your reluctance to produce pieces of art that are less than your normal high quality and if you feel you need to leave rather than lower yourself to that, then we’ll be sorry to see you go,’ Flick said, feeling herself visibly shake at the prospect of kicking people out. But Luke was right, something had to change.

‘So it’s your way or the highway?’ Aidan asked.

Her mouth was dry as she nodded. She hated confrontation. ‘I’ll come and see you all tomorrow just before closing and you can tell me what you’ve decided to do.’

Muttering angrily between themselves, everyone but Luke left.

She let out a heavy sigh. ‘I really know how to make friends, don’t I?’

‘We don’t need a friend right now. Audrey has played that role very well over the last few years and to what end? What we need now is a boss, someone who is going to take charge of this place and drag it, kicking and screaming, into something profitable.’

Flick nodded, knowing he was right but not feeling any better about it.

‘Come on,’ Luke said. ‘I’ll treat you to lunch, I know just the place.’

If Flick had been hoping for a nice restaurant or even a friendly local café she would have been disappointed. As it was her head was swirling with everything that had just happened in the meeting. She kept thinking about what she could have said differently and what else she could do to save the house so she had no hopes or expectations at all for lunch. She wasn’t even sure she could eat, her stomach was churning so much. But when Luke walked up to a little yellow food truck, similar in size to an ice cream van, and ordered a burger and fries, she was a little bit surprised.

‘What would you like?’ Luke asked, fishing out his wallet.

She looked up at the menu for a moment before she shook her head, not really seeing the words. ‘I’ll have the same.’

‘It’ll be a few minutes. Why not grab a seat and I’ll bring it over to you when it’s ready,’ said a young, redheaded woman.

Luke nodded. ‘Thanks Polly.’

He gestured to a nearby picnic bench and they sat down opposite each other.

‘How are you doing?’ Luke asked.

‘It’s definitely a tough crowd.’

‘They’ve been stuck in their ways for years with no one telling them they have to do anything different.’

‘I think fresh blood could be the answer. People who are young and enthusiastic.’

‘I don’t know. Artists are a proud bunch, no matter how young they are, and many of them feel like theirskills are above the kind of things you’re asking them to do.’

She sighed. ‘I think getting visitors up there is going to be half the battle. If they can see I’m doing that then maybe they’ll be a bit more open to doing their part. I’d love to reopen the café if I could find someone to run it, it would bring a daily stream of visitors to the studios. But while we were in there for our meeting this morning, I felt like it needed some TLC. Not just cleaning, but some new countertops, maybe some new tables and chairs, a paint job. Some of the studios need a bit of love too, or at least some more shelves or tables to display their work on. Ethel’s quilts are in a big pile on the floor.’ She chewed her lip. ‘Maybe we can hold a painting party, invite people up here to help with the painting in return for free pizza.’ She sighed, she didn’t think many people would give up their time just for some pizza.

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