Page 66 of The Christmas Invitation
‘Is he young, single and handsome?’
‘All three – but about five years younger than me.’
‘Oh, that’s nothing,’ she said airily.
‘He also seems to be a bit of a love rat, so I wouldn’t buy a wedding present quite yet, Fliss. I think he’d only marry someone who could plaster walls, or who knows how to use a cement mixer.’
I told her what Mark was doing to Underhill and she laughed and said she might be renovating a house herself soon, on a more modest scale, because the only way they could afford to buy a house would be to move out of London.
‘There’s no real reason for me to live in London now either. Being up here has made me realize how much I miss the countryside.’
‘Just somewhere not quite so remote?’ she suggested.
‘No, or anywhere with Lex Mariner as a neighbour,’ I agreed.
21
Still Life
Henry gave me another sitting next morning and I began to put paint on the canvas. The sound of my palette knife spreading paint on the surface and then, sometimes, scraping most of it off again, was for some time the only sound in the room.
Henry was a perfect sitter, seeming to relax into the pose, though I wasn’t sure he was always reading, because sometimes the pages didn’t turn for ages. Perhaps he was thinking about his long poem cycle instead, which sounded as if it was nearing completion.
I had thought that poets were all like Rollo and his slightly precious circle, or the sometimes earthier but more entertaining ones we heard at pub open mic sessions, but Henry was something else entirely.
He had the same thing that Lex and I recognized in each other, without false modesty, and that’s brilliance at what we did. You can’t be full of yourself about it, because you’re merely the vehicle for this amazing gift that’s been bestowed on you.
Mark fetched me after lunch in that huge black Cherokee thing. It had snowed on the tops last night and everything was looking sugar-coated and crispy white, like the enormousChristmas cake under a glass dome in the larder at the Red House. Den had swirled ‘Merry Christmas’ in red icing across the top, then added a tiny reindeer, a huge robin and sprigs of plastic holly and mistletoe. I had a sudden mad vision of him up on the hillside with a giant icing nozzle, marking out a seasonal greeting …
Mark parked in the courtyard in front of the oak door and led the way in.
‘Mum?’ he called, opening the door on to the hall’s dark chilliness, but there was no reply except for a faint echo. Or perhaps I just imagined that. Cosy, it wasn’t.
‘She must be out in the garden, or up with the horses or somewhere, but I expect she’ll be back in a bit.’
If she wasn’t, I thought, she’d probably get hypothermia, but they seemed a hardier breed up here and were presumably acclimatized to it.
‘I’ll show you those pictures first,’ Mark said with his attractive smile – probably because he wanted my free advice, I thought cynically. With his longish dark auburn hair, straight nose, high cheekbones and pointed chin, he’d have looked like a Cavalier in a painting by Van Dyck if he’d been wearing a ruff.
‘After that, I’ll show you round and tell you what I’m planning for the place.’
I reluctantly parted with my coat, because it seemed rude to insist on keeping it on. Then we went upstairs to what he called the Long Gallery. Itwasquite long, the walls half-panelled in dark wood, with pictures ranged above them.
The Stubbswasn’t. In fact, I was pretty sure the Lely wasn’t, either … but therewasa small, but very dirty, Dutch still life in a dark corner, which I thought might be promising.
‘I’d never have thought that was worth anything,’ Mark said, when I pointed it out.
‘I think it’s good, but you can’t really tell until it’s cleaned – and I meanprofessionallycleaned andnotwiped over with white spirit,’ I added hastily, because I could see what he was thinking. ‘If you tried to do it yourself, you’d remove almost all the value from it.’
‘Oh … right,’ he agreed reluctantly, so I think I got that one across in the nick of time.
‘I’ve written down the number of the girl I know in a big London auction house. Why not invite her up after Christmas and see what she thinks? I suspect that little still life will make more than all the others put together … but if it was mine, I don’t think I could bear to sell it.’
‘But if it’s valuable enough to pay for the rest of the renovations and keep us afloat until I’ve opened for business, then Mum will be pleased too. She doesn’t want to part with any of the paintings really, but I don’t think she’s ever paid much attention to that one.’
‘I expect your visitors will like to see the portraits of the ancestors. They’ll be an added attraction.’ Not quite the Lions of Longleat, perhaps, but something to look at. ‘But I suppose the wedding receptions will be the chief moneymaker?’ I said as I followed him back out of the gallery.
‘Yes, and I’m determined we’ll be open for those this spring. The letting bedrooms might have to wait a bit longer, though I’ll need an en-suite room for the bride to use on the day.’
