Page 72 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
‘Exactly.’
‘We need to ask around to find out who lived there before it went up for sale. Someone will know – they have to.’
‘I agree. Now, are you hungry?’ Jack asks. ‘Would you like to go for some food?’
‘Oh … that’s a lovely thought, but I can’t, I’m afraid. I’m meeting Julian for dinner.’
‘Ah,’ Jack says, looking straight ahead. ‘I see.’ He begins pushing his wheels that little bit harder.
I have to walk faster to keep up.
‘Sorry,’ I apologise, ‘I really would have liked to, but I’m trying to help Julian change his life and—’
‘Change his life?’ Jack scoffs, interrupting me. ‘Why does he need to change his life? That guy has everything, doesn’t he? Money, success, homes all over the world. What does he need to change about that?’
‘He’s lonely,’ I say, and I stop walking so Jack has to pause and turn himself around to see me. ‘Money doesn’t buy you friends, Jack.’
Jack stares at me.
‘I misunderstood Julian, as I’m sure a lot of people do,’ I say pointedly. ‘I only saw the brash, showy side of him, but that’s not the real him – that’s the person he’s had to become to try and shake off his father’s name. I’m trying to help him change.’
Jack suddenly smiles, but it’s not a friendly sort of smile – it’s a smug, knowing sort. ‘If you believe that, you’ll believe anything,’ he says. ‘He’s using your natural compassion and incredible ability to see good everywhere, to … well … how can I put it politely?’
‘Just say it, Jack,’ I say quietly. ‘You might as well get it off your chest.’
‘Okay. To get in your knickers. There, I’ve said it.’
I simply stare at him, then I shake my head. ‘You need to get your mind out of the gutter,’ I tell him. ‘Not everyone thinks like you. Julian is my friend, and if you don’t like that then it’s a real shame because I thought you were my friend too, Jack. Perhaps I got that very wrong.’
Without saying anything more I push past him and stomp off down the rest of the hill so Jack can only watch me go.
*
‘Are you all right?’ Julian asks later that evening, as we sit in The Lobster Pot waiting for our first course to be brought to the table. ‘You’re very quiet.’
‘Yes, sorry. I’m fine. Had a bit of a weird day, that’s all.’
‘How so?’
Where do I start?I wonder. With a visit to an old house pretending to be someone’s wife so we could see whether some mystery people used to reside there who we’ve been watching come alive via embroidery and paintings? Or the part when I left my pretend husband on a pavement after we’d argued about you?
‘Ah, it’s nothing,’ I say tactfully. ‘You know, life.’
‘Bit of a weird one for me too actually,’ Julian says, and I’m pleased he seems able to share his day with me more easily than I can with him. ‘Someone went into the gallery and started kicking off about my father’s pictures.’
‘Kicking off? What do you mean?’
‘Saying they weren’t painted by him of all things.’ He shakes his head. ‘As if! Some nutter, no doubt. I wouldn’t have known anything about it if I hadn’t seen Ophelia from the gallery in the bakery earlier. She was pretty shocked to see me here, and somewhat embarrassed by what had happened, but she thought she’d better tell me in case someone was gossiping about it.’
I haven’t the heart to tell him the people of St Felix have better things to gossip about than what goes on at the Lyle Gallery. Most of the locals have never set foot in the building – they see it only as a place for the many day trippers and holiday-makers to visit while they are here.
‘That was good of her.’
Julian nods. ‘I know, I thought so too. Of course I could only reassure her that of course my father had painted them – who else would have? He loved this place.’
‘When did your father first come here?’ I ask, seeing the perfect opportunity to delve deeper into Winston James’ experiences of St Felix.
‘The mid-fifties, I think,’ Julian says thoughtfully. ‘He came here as a young struggling artist, I believe. I wasn’t around then, of course. He didn’t meet my mother until the early seventies in New York, and they were married a short time after. I spent the first few years of my life in the States, but Mother wanted me to be educated in England, which is how I found myself at boarding school for so many years. She was much younger than him, but it seemed to work for them both. Do you have a problem with age gaps in relationships?’ Julian asks casually, lifting his glass of wine and taking a sip.
