Page 56 of The Christmas Retreat
‘I think I’m a lark,’ said Toby, ‘in that I like to sit and write in the mornings, but then, I often wander around in the afternoons, seeking inspiration.’
‘If you wander in our direction later today, then you can hold the camera for us while we perform on the hill where we were last night,’ suggested Opal. ‘The ceremony gave us some ideas and it would be good to do some preliminary poses in the trees and around the tomb.’
Then she added, in an annoyed voice, ‘If only we’d known about the masks before we came, we could have brought some with us, because the concept of hiding our faces, or half of our faces, in mirroring poses would be very powerful.’
‘I don’t know that it would,’ said Pearl, unexpectedly speaking up, to her sister’s evident astonishment. ‘I mean, we came here to try and think up fresh directions for our work, but that would be just the same old thing, only hiding part or all of our faces …’ She tailed off uncertainly.
Cariad had been wrong about who the other Gorgons were, for Opal now cast her twin a look that should have turned her to stone.
‘It’s entirely different,’ she snapped. ‘I ordered some masks from Amazon the minute I got to my room last night, but I doubt if they’ll get here before Christmas.’
‘If you like, I’ll see if I can find anything like that while I’m out today,’ promised Nerys generously. ‘I’m taking Cariad and her friend out shopping and there’s a good art shop with lots of craft materials in town. You could give me a little list of anything you want me to look for.’
Opal thanked her and began to jot down a list on a bit of paper Toby had torn out of a pocket notebook for her.
‘Cariad and I won’t be here for lunch, but will see you later. What are the rest of you going to do?’ Nerys asked.
‘Work,’ said Toby. ‘I woke in the night thinking about my novel and I can see the way forward a little now.’
‘That’s often the way,’ said Rhys. ‘A short break and doing something different seems to give your ideas a chance to reshape themselves even though you don’t realize they’re doing it.’
‘What about you, Ginny?’ asked Toby.
‘I think I mentioned I was going to turn all the sketchbooksand other material I compiled during my ten years at my cottage in Bedfordshire into a series of non-fiction books. I want to plan them out a bit more. There will be one for each year. I’ve brought all the material with me, so I’ll make a start by spreading it all out and deciding what’s going in and what to leave out.’
‘It sounds as if you might need some extra workspace, like Evie did,’ Rhys said. ‘I’ll find you a small trestle table after breakfast and take it up to your room.’
‘That would be great, if it isn’t a bother. If I spread it all out on the floor I’d have to keep putting it away, I suppose.’
‘It’s no problem.’ He smiled at me. ‘I’ll drop it off on the way to my room. I need to do some work this morning too. I’ve got a late January deadline for a poetry anthology.’
‘My work is going to take me out for most of the day, I think,’ said Evie. ‘Noel’s leaving his assistant in charge of the bookshop and taking me into St Melangell to meet his friend who runs the local history museum, where I hope to find out more about the artistic colony there, especially between the wars. I’m treating them both to lunch at the local pub, as a reward afterwards.’
‘I’m going into St Melangell too, although after lunch,’ I told her. ‘But I’ll walk by the cliff path. I need to do a bit of shopping.’
‘And if there’s a hairdresser, get your hair cut,’ she suggested.
‘You’re not going to have it cut short, are you?’ said Rhys involuntarily, then flushed slightly. ‘I mean, it’syourhair, but I was just thinking that when the light’s on it, it looks like a waterfall of molten caramel.’
‘Very poetic!’ said Nerys, sounding amused, and he grinned.
‘Yes, anyone would think I was a writer!’
I felt myself go faintly pink again and said, ‘No, not short. I’ve got used to it long. It’s just I’ve been trimming the ends myself and Evie thinks it looks like a rat’s been nibbling it.’
‘If that’s all it needs, I’ll ask Bronwen to cut it for you after breakfast,’ Nerys said. ‘She does mine. It’s hardly worth going to a hairdresser when you have long straight hair.’
‘No problem,’ said Tudor, who had come in with more fresh warm rolls topped with poppy seeds, which he put on the table. ‘I’ll tell her. Come into the kitchen when you’ve finished, Ginny.’
‘I too have been inspired by last night’s events, my interest in the theme of masques and mumming having first been stirred by Noel’s talk,’ said Kate, ignoring these mundane arrangements. ‘I must continue to expand my outline for a new novel,Death at the Masque, while it is all fresh in my mind, before I can carry on with my edits.’
She looked hopefully at Rhys. ‘It would be so useful to discuss them with you, Rhys, when you are free. Perhaps this afternoon?’
‘I’ll see,’ he said evasively. ‘I’ll have to return all the costumes to the vicarage later, where they are stored. It’s a huge old building, so they have plenty of room for them.’
We’d all finished long before Verity had stopped her mouse-like nibbling on a slice of toast and I helped Tudor clear the table around her.
In the kitchen Bronwen whipped out a large pair of scissors and sat me down on a chair, newspaper spread below, and swiftly chopped the end of my hair off, watched with mild interest by Snookums and Pompey.
