Page 105 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
‘We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, Maggie,’ Arty says reassuringly. ‘How about we go over there tomorrow and see what the landlord is going to do with them?’
Maggie nods.
‘Time to say goodbye now, Maggie,’ Clara says gently. She hadn’t realised quite how much this kind old man had meant to Maggie until the news of his death had reached them. Clara and Arty had both lived through the war, during which hearing news of people dying had become commonplace to them, but death and everything that came with it was new to her daughter, and it had hit her hard.
Maggie nods. ‘Goodbye, lovely Freddie,’ she says sadly. ‘Thank you for all the lovely times we shared. I’ll never forget you.’ She places a white flower on top of the grave.
‘We all had a lot to thank Freddie for,’ Arty says, looking down at the grave again and then across at Clara. ‘If it wasn’t for him your mother and I might not be together.’
Clara nods knowingly. She knew Arty meant that after he’d taken Maggie to Freddie’s that first time to check all was well, Clara had realised that Arty only had their best interests at heart. She had softened towards him, and their relationship had begun to flourish from that moment on so that a few months ago Clara had accepted Arty’s proposal and they were now engaged.
‘If only he knew,’ Clara says gently.
‘I think Freddie knew a lot more than people thought,’ Maggie says, stepping back from the grave and taking hold of her mother’s hand. ‘A lot, lot more.’
‘Oh, how sad,’ I say, looking away from the images that have begun to swirl again.
‘Yes, it was, but he was an old man,’ Jack says seriously. ‘He’d had a good innings.’
‘I guess so, but Maggie was clearly very close to him and it’s obviously very upsetting for her …’ I pause. ‘Shall we move on to the second picture? The colours are a bit brighter. I think it’s of Freddie’s house, isn’t it?’
‘Seems like it. Good job we’re viewing them in the order they appeared so it’s all chronological. We wouldn’t have known what was going on otherwise … I barely do anyway for that matter.’
‘Stop it, you fibber,’ I tease, as I lift the second picture on to the easel. ‘You’re enjoying all this just as much as I am.’
‘Having you here does have its benefits,’ Jack says, grinning. He takes my hand again as he waits for me to move the felt into its corresponding place on the front of the painting. ‘That’s one thing I do have to thank these pictures for.’
I squeeze his hand. ‘Ready?’ I ask, sliding the felt across.
‘Ready.’
St Felix ~ December 1958
Maggie and Arty walk together towards Freddie’s cottage. Both of them feel apprehensive about visiting again knowing that he won’t be there this time.
Arty had accompanied Maggie on her visits on quite a few occasions over the last year, and he’d got to know Freddie well in that time. He was a quiet man, gentle and intelligent, and Arty had enjoyed sitting painting with him and listening to his stories about St Felix and his life there almost as much as Maggie. Arty had brought him some of his own canvases to use with the excuse that he didn’t use that size any more. Freddie was a proud man and Arty knew he wouldn’t accept anything that looked like charity, so when he’d brought him as many pieces of art equipment as he could he always used the ‘unwanted/ unused’ excuse. He wasn’t sure Freddie always believed him, but he was gracious enough to accept Arty’s gifts without a fuss.
He and Maggie arrive outside Freddie’s cottage and are surprised to see the doors open, and the sounds of hammering, banging and raised voices coming from inside.
‘Good morning!’ Arty calls tentatively through the doors.
‘’ello, mate can I ’elp you?’ asks a man wearing blue overalls and a tweed cap, approaching them across the kitchen floor.
‘Yes, perhaps you can. What are you all doing here?’
‘Renovations, mate. This place ain’t been touched in years. The new owner wants it all ship-shape as fast as possible.’
‘New owner? But I thought this house was rented?’
‘’Twas, I think, but the landlord has sold it on now. Far as I know he got an offer he couldn’t refuse.’
Maggie tugs at Arty’s hand.
‘And do you know what happened to the paintings that were here?’ Arty asks, looking at the bare walls. The place was hardly recognisable as Freddie’s house any longer as the builders were pulling down the old kitchen cabinets and there was dust everywhere.
‘Don’t know nothing about any paintings, mate. Place was all empty when we arrived.’
‘Right, thank you. Just one more thing, do you know who the new owner is by any chance?’
