Page 84 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
‘Afternoon,’ he says amiably.
‘Freddie, this is Arty,’ Maggie says excitedly, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to him. ‘Remember I told you all about him?’
‘Pleased ta meet ye,’ Freddie says, nodding at Arty. ‘Take a pew, won’t ye?’
Arty pulls up a wooden stool and sits down opposite Maggie and Freddie.
‘So where’s the other gal then?’ Freddie asks Maggie. ‘Got the day off, has she?’
‘Yes, Arty is looking after me this afternoon,’ Maggie says. ‘He’s a painter too. I thought you might like to meet him.’
Freddie gives Arty the once-over. ‘I dare say you’re a professional by the look of ye,’ he says, continuing with his work. ‘I just dabble meself. Grab yeself a piece of wood and a brush if yer staying, young Maggie.’
‘May I take a look at your paintings?’ Arty asks, while Maggie does what Freddie has suggested.
‘Be my guest,’ Freddie says. ‘I’d hardly call them paintings though, more me own scribblings.’
Arty goes over to the stack of pictures on the floor and looks through them.
‘Some of these are rather good, you know?’ Arty says, pausing to gaze at a simple picture of some boats in a harbour. ‘You have a very unique style.’
‘Thank ye kindly,’ Freddie says. ‘I just paint what I sees, in my own way.’
‘Why all the wood and bits of metal though?’ Arty asks. ‘I mean, I quite like it – it’s different – but isn’t it difficult to get the paint to adhere?’
Freddie looks at Arty kindly. ‘Probably, but the proper stuff is expensive, ain’t it. I get all my canvases for free, and some of me paints too. Make them meself, I do.’
‘How wonderful,’ Arty says, with genuine appreciation. ‘That’s truly amazing.’
Freddie simply shrugs. ‘Needs must.’
‘So when did you start painting, Freddie?’ Arty says, moving around the room to examine more of Freddie’s work hung on the walls.
‘When me wife died,’ Freddie says steadily. ‘To fill the time, ye know?’
Arty nods. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Art can be such wonderful therapy.’
‘I don’t know about that, but once me fishing career ended, I had too much time on me hands without Irene. It was something to while away the hours. That’s why I like having the little uns in to paint with me – they keeps me company.’
He smiles warmly at Maggie, and she grins back happily as she sits down next to him again ready to paint her own picture.
‘Yes, I bet they do,’ Arty says, feeling ashamed that he had thought anything less about Freddie. ‘I can see that now.’
*
The images begin to swirl into a kaleidoscope of colours, and I lean back from the painting of Freddie’s cottage with Jack by my side.
We’re sitting closer than we usually do because we’re currently squeezed into Jack’s stock-room at the back of the shop. It was too difficult to arrange an evening meeting in Jack’s flat now Ben was around, and too difficult for Jack to transport his newest painting to my shop. We’ve had to squeeze into Jack’s stock-room while Ben has gone for his lunch-break, praying that we’ll have enough time to watch our latest instalment of vintage St Felix before he returns.
‘Looks like the old guy was genuine after all,’ Jack says. ‘Both Arty and Clara obviously had their suspicions about him spending time with Maggie.’
‘Yes …’ I say absent-mindedly.
‘What’s up?’ Jack asks. ‘It’s unusual for you not to have a view.’
‘I’m thinking,’ I reply vaguely, ‘about Freddie’s pictures. We couldn’t see them all that well. Annoyingly, Arty either had them turned towards him or he was blocking them when he was standing in front.’
‘So?’
