Page 95 of The House of Hopes and Dreams
‘No, perhaps you didn’t,’ he agreed drily. ‘Or perhaps you didn’t mean that at all, but now you’re regretting ditching me so fast, because the series has bombed without me.’
‘You have such a big fan base and there’s no one quite like you …’ she said. ‘You’re quite irreplaceable.’
‘Only the best butter,’ I muttered, and he grinned at me.
‘I do wish you’d come back, Carey, and not just for the sake of the programme:Imiss you so much, too,’ she cooed. ‘Letting you go was a big mistake.’
‘You didn’t so much let me go as drop me like a hot potato,’ he pointed out. ‘But that’s not important any more, because I’ve moved on – and in more ways than one. Nick’s made the pilot for a new makeover series and sold it to ITV.’
There was a stunned silence, then she said sharply, ‘But you can’t do that! We have the rights to the original title and format and—’
‘You don’t have the rights to my life,’ he said gently. ‘And that’s what the new series is all about: my life here at Mossby.’
There was another pause, while she regrouped. ‘I saw a magazine article about you. It said you’d inherited an old house from a rich uncle – is that Mossby?’
‘Yes, though my uncle was far from rich and the house and gardens are very run down. Lots of scope for my skills here.’
‘Look, maybe I could come and discuss things with you, before you actually sign anything?’ she suggested persuasively.
‘It wouldn’t be worth your while trekking up here to west Lancashire, because I’ve made up my mind.’
‘I’d forgotten the article said the house was in Lancashire – but you’re surely not going to stay there permanently, are you? Won’t you just do the house up and sell it?’
‘No way! This is my home now and I love it. And Angelique’s staying with me and setting up her own stained-glass workshop on the estate.’
‘Angelique?’ she repeated sharply, then lowered her tone with an obvious effort. ‘Well, business aside, I’d love to see you again –anddear Angelique, too, of course.’
Anyone would think we’d been best friends, whereas I’d only met her a few times and she’d seemed to loathe the sight of me.
I made gagging gestures and Carey gave a thumbs down in return.
‘I’m afraid we’re really busy right now, Daisy, and it wouldn’t beworth your while coming anyway,’ he said ambiguously, then cut her off mid-protesting bleat.
He looked across at me, with one raised eyebrow and a glint in his violet-blue eyes.
‘My bet is she just turns up on the doorstep one day, like a stray cat,’ I said.
The big kiln arrived and was manoeuvred into its designated room with some difficulty and the temporary removal of the inner door and frame.
Only when it was in place did we add a sturdy bench and the bag of plaster of Paris that was used to line the metal trays that would be slid in and out of the kiln using a special tool that I’d hung on the wall.
I had a selection of cones that melted at different temperatures and Ivan and I would carry out a series of test firings at some point, to see if there were hot and cold spots. I knew Grant would want to have a go too, one weekend: he’d always been the self-proclaimed kiln-firing expert.
The special boots I ordered for Fang arrived and he seemed to acquire a slight swagger when he was wearing them. He also had a cushioned basket under my desk in the back room at the workshop, which served as the staff room as well as being a kind of office-studio.
The angel’s head I’d painted from Julian’s drawing had been turned into a little stained-glass roundel with a flowered border and now hung in the window over the sink, casting a soft yellow, pink and mauve-blue motley over my desk when the sun caught it.
Modern, streamlined storage heaters now took the worst of the chill from all the rooms and with the floor covered in thick, heavy-duty vinyl and the cracks round the window frames filled in, the workshop was quite cosy.
In the big glazing room, sheets of heavy plate glass had been placed on the easels over the windows, bundles of lead calme lay in the wooden troughs, ready to be stretched and used, and the sheets of Antique glass slumbered in the deep, dark recesses of the labelled unit, until it was their turn to come to life against the light.
Really, the workshop was almost completed – just a little more unpacking and the finishing touches, then it would be done … and so, unfortunately, would be my savings.
I’d simplyhaveto drum up some business as soon as possible!
As soon as the burglar alarm was fitted and new locks (I knew it was entirely irrational, but I still expected Nat to suddenly break in and steal my work), I pinned the Brisbane design up on the corkboard wall in the glazing room and started to scale it up to full size. The installation, when put in place, would be a gentle S-shaped wave, divided into tall narrow rectangles, so it would be as if you were looking through multiple windows, or perhaps through a series of those sea zoo windows that are half under water and half above.
I’d put up on my website more examples of my work and also the winning design for the competition. I updated my details on one or two other databases, too, and found I’d had a couple of initial queries about commissions, which was encouraging. There was also an invitation to submit a design for a side chapel window in memory of a child – and since no subject was specified, I could possibly adapt my Noah’s Ark design for it. Most children loved the story of the animals going in two by two. It would be cheerful and hopeful and bright.
