Page 38 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
‘So, you ready?’ Jack asks a little later when we’ve set the easel up in his flat, ready to match the pictures together.
‘As I’ll ever be.’
I hold my embroidered felt over Jack’s oil painting of the sea and rocks, exactly like we had the first time, so it matches the artwork of the canvas perfectly. Almost at once the images swirl and blend together and we’re transported once again back to a vintage St Felix.
St Felix ~ June 1957
Clara pushes Maggie in her chair up a steep hill. It was difficult pushing her along this part of the coastal path, but it meant the two of them could venture further away from the town, which was becoming busy with visitors now summer was in full swing.
Hordes of excited holiday-makers arrived in their buses and on the coastal railroad by steam train, some just for the day and some staying in the many new B&B guest houses that were opening everywhere.
The town was alive with the sound of excited chatter as families from all over the country enjoyed, often for the first time, a traditional Cornish seaside holiday.
‘Oh, Mummy, the air is so fresh up here!’ Maggie calls, as Clara pushes her further up the hill. ‘Thank you for bringing me – it’s so beautiful.’
Clara remembered coming here with her aunt and uncle when she had stayed with them in 1945. It had been an easy walk at first, but as the months had passed the walk had become more and more difficult. However, it had been nowhere near as hard as pushing a wheelchair along this path today. Still, she would do anything for her only child, and if it meant she was the one who was a little uncomfortable today, then so be it.
‘Oh look, Mummy,’ Maggie calls. ‘It’s the painting man again.’
‘Where?’ Clara asks, looking around her.
‘Arty!’ Maggie calls before Clara can stop her. ‘Arty, over here!’
Clara spies Arty sitting a little way below them in front of some rocks on a small stool. He has his easel set up in front of him and he’s in the middle of a painting. He turns when he hears his name called and waves to them.
Maggie waves back. ‘Push me over there, Mummy,’ she insists.
‘Please,’ Clara reminds her. ‘And I don’t think I can – it’s too steep for your chair.’
‘Then I’ll climb out,’ Maggie says, already lifting herself out, but her weak legs begin to crumble underneath her after she’s only taken a few steps and she tumbles on to the grass.
‘Maggie!’ Clara cries, trying to park the wheelchair so it doesn’t roll down the hill after her.
Arty is already on his way over, so before Clara can get anywhere near Maggie his long legs have carried him up the slope towards her. He scoops her up in his strong arms before Clara can get to them.
‘Are you all right?’ Clara asks, running barefoot towards them with her shoes in her hands.
‘Yes, Mummy, I’m fine,’ Maggie says, looking shyly up at Arty.
‘I believe this young lady belongs to you?’ Arty says, smiling at Clara.
‘Yes, thank you for coming to her rescue. Your footwear is a lot more practical than mine for running up and down hills.’
Arty looks at Clara’s neat black slip-on pumps. ‘But nowhere near as pretty,’ he says, smiling at her.
Clara’s cheeks flush.
‘Can you take me to see your painting?’ Maggie asks, looking down the hill towards Arty’s easel. ‘Mummy says my chair won’t go down there.’
‘Of course!’ Arty says. ‘If that’s okay with your mother?’ Clara looks uneasy. ‘Well … if you have no objections, Mr—? I’m sorry I’m not sure I caught your full name the last time we met.’
‘I’ll repeat what I said then. Please call me Arty, and you are Clara if I remember correctly.’
‘Yes, I am,’ Clara says, a little flustered by his informality.
‘Right then, I’ll carry young Maggie down there first, and then I’ll come back up for her chair. Will you be okay getting down there, Clara, or should I carry you too?’
‘I will be just fine, thank you,’ Clara says, choosing to ignore the twinkle in Arthur’s blue eyes. ‘But please be careful with Maggie, won’t you – she’s still convalescing and is quite delicate.’
