скачать книгу бесплатно
‘Yes, I know, and I’m going to need some help putting together a website, or more likely getting someone to do it for me. I’m not techie as you well know. I can design the flyers myself of course but I’ll get them run off professionally. My poor old printer would never cope with the quantity. It throws a hissy fit if I try anything larger than a three-page document. Then I’ll be walking the streets pushing them through letterboxes. Firstly, though, I’m going to the tourist information office and the library. I need advice from people who know what they’re talking about ’cos I sure as hell don’t.’
Holly’s voice got faster and faster as her excitement grew and it was only when she paused for breath that Emma said, ‘And next week?’
Not allowing her friend’s sarcasm to diminish her enthusiasm, she replied, ‘Okay, I know it isn’t going to happen overnight but if I’m a bit frugal – and, if I come round to yours three or four times a week to eat – I should be able to manage.’
‘Don’t be shy. Just ask. Move back in if you want to. No? I thought not. Maybe you’d like meals on wheels.’
‘Well, if you’re offering …’
‘You’re pushing it now, you know. There are limits to this friendship.’
‘But, Em. I’m a poor orphan.’
‘More of that wheedling and you’ll be a seriously bruised orphan.’
‘Anyway,’ Holly said, reverting to her normal voice, ‘I would like to be ready in time for at least some of this year’s tourist season, if I can. It’s only just February. No need to panic yet, I hope.’
‘Well, you didn’t collar every prize going at college for nothing. What was it Blush the Brush said about you? “Enormous potential to succeed”.’
‘Yeah, but …’
‘You were a little star, Hol. You know you were. This is not the time for false modesty.’
‘Emma, I know you …’
‘If anyone can make it work, you can. And when you’re rich and famous I’ll remind you how I helped set you on your way. In fact, I could be your business manager.’
‘That would be in your spare time of course.’
Emma didn’t have a lot of spare time, not with two boys and a husband to whom the adjective practical would never apply. Her work didn’t stop at the school gate either. There were always lessons to prepare and homework to be marked. Today she’d left the twins with a friend for an hour while she came over.
‘Ah, you’ve realised I’ve done a runner. No chance of any peace and quiet with my two. I’ve left them with Kate. Six-year-olds! Give me work any day.’
‘You’re not serious?’ Holly was quite indignant on behalf of her godchildren.
‘Absolutely. At least by the time I get them in class they’re into double figures and most have learned some sense. I’ve always been hopeless with small children.’
Emma was not hopeless with children of any age. She had that amazing gift that made people warm to her no matter how many years they’d notched up, or indeed how few. It was true though that as far as teaching was concerned she preferred a bit of maturity. Her enthusiasm promoted confidence in everyone though and, in Holly’s case and after all she’d been through, a welcome faith in her own ability to take control of and make a success of her future. Emma really was the best of friends.
Chapter Four (#u087cf73f-931b-5769-b50f-a7645a10a441)
In between decorating and visiting the home that first week Holly made time to apply for permission for change of use for the extension. This was the most urgent thing on her agenda as in her opinion her whole future depended on it. Well aware it would take weeks if not months to come through it was important to set the wheels in motion as soon as possible. If they rejected her application she’d have to think again, except it didn’t bear thinking about because her heart was set on it.
‘I can’t see why they would turn you down,’ Emma had said one day when the two friends were talking on the phone. ‘All you have to do is look along the high street to see how many properties have done the same thing. Lots of them must have originally been houses rather than shops. And there isn’t a gallery as such at all. Yes, a few places sell pictures, mostly prints, along with their other gift and crafty things, but there’s nothing that is dedicated to original artwork so there would be no conflict.’
‘I know, Emma, but until I have official confirmation I can’t really move forward.’
‘Well, the decorating’s done and you don’t need to buy anything. I’ve never known anyone make something out of nothing the way you do.’
‘I must point out that that’s a slight exaggeration.’
‘Maybe, but only slight.’
‘There will be lots of things I’ll need, but you have to speculate to accumulate. Who was it said that? Anyway, I’m positive that he was right. Or she was.’
She was positive too that if she were to have any chance of achieving and maintaining a successful business she would have to run it in a professional manner. Cuffingham was in the middle of a hugely popular tourist area and there were always a lot of people milling around in the summer months. However, trade was seasonal and there were countless shops selling arts, crafts, and gifts, two of them in the high street. Hers would be different of course but it would have to be pretty special to compete.
Being on the end of the run could prove to be a blessing or a disaster – only time would tell. She hoped there’d be enough trade to carry her for the rest of the year. She assumed that was what happened with most retail outlets.
Holly’s experience at the old folks’ home had confirmed she could share her skills with others and she loved doing it. Her plan to run classes would provide an occupation out of season as well as being an added bonus the rest of the time. She began to consider seriously the logistics of running two businesses in tandem. There was no reason she could see why she wouldn’t be able to produce her own work and teach others as well.
It was then that she had a ‘eureka’ moment. While she’d been decorating, with little else to do than stare at the four walls, literally, she’d been mulling over potential names for her new business. Now, when she wasn’t thinking about it at all, it hit her square between the eyes.
She’d always loved mythology at school. At the time, though, before her marriage to Harry, she’d had a different surname. The one she had now fitted so well she could hardly believe it. Artemis – Goddess of the Hunt … and her name was Hunter. I can call the business ‘Art-e-Mis’ and I can be an Arty Mistress. She like the pun so much she repeated it to Emma.
‘If that’s the best you can do I’d advise you to stick to art. Witticisms of that kind are definitely not your forte.’
‘I thought it was quite funny.’
‘No, Holly, it’s pathetic.’
‘Oh,’ she said, feeling a little deflated and winding one of her curls around her finger the way she did whenever she was upset or disconcerted – but still liking the joke anyway.
Holly had no way of gauging the potential success of the retail trade but teaching could go a long way to providing a regular and reliable year-round income. All she had to do now was find some students. Oh, and there was the small detail of getting her proposal accepted.
Her mother’s old pine table could sit ten for dinner, twelve at a pinch, but that was for a meal. If it was going to be used as a workbench, people would need a bit of elbow room: space to spread things around. In spite of Harry not being keen, she’d insisted on keeping the table when her parents died. It reminded her of her childhood with the little pictures that she’d carved into its surface.
Her preoccupation with art had begun at an early age. It was one of those tables you expect to find in the enormous kitchen of a stately home. When Holly was little her family had lived in the ground floor/basement flat of an old Victorian house, and her mother had loved that old table. She didn’t seem to mind Holly’s carvings too much either, though there was the occasional token protest. They’d virtually lived in the basement kitchen and it had always been a warm and happy room, light filtering down through the window because they were on the sunny side of the street.
No way was Holly going to let the table go just because Harry didn’t want it. Too big for the house, it had been kept in the garage in London – who keeps their car in the garage anyway? – until she’d moved it and her paintings into storage pending divorce and the sale of the house.
‘You can have the bloody thing. I don’t want it,’ he’d said when she told him she was taking it with her to the Cotswolds. He’d sounded like one of Emma’s petulant pupils. As if she’d have left it with him anyway! For all its size it was dwarfed in the studio. It would certainly be big enough to take all the paraphernalia Holly’s students might need.
She couldn’t, however, ask them to sit on the floor so she decided her first task would be a tour of the local antique and second-hand furniture shops, far more a labour of love than a disagreeable chore. Holly had visited many of the shops over the years when staying with Emma, and since she’d left London, but there were still some she didn’t know and some she was looking forward to reacquainting herself with. She whisked herself up a smoothie to take the place of lunch, put it in a flask, and set off, excitement bubbling just below the surface.
The day was still young and Holly stepped out of her front door like a woman with a purpose. Any remaining doubts she might have had about the move had been laid to rest. Each day she felt more like a resident and less of a tourist. There were no airs and graces from the people she’d met at Kate and Charlie’s (unlike some of Harry’s friends) and over the ensuing few weeks, apart from the gap at Christmas, she’d seen most of them again and was beginning to feel she belonged.
There was only one fly in the ointment and Adam chose that moment to come out of the small post office and nearly bowl her over again. He pulled up sharply, flashing those great big blue eyes, and mumbled: ‘Look, I’m really sorry we got off to such a bad start. I guess you heard about Buttercup. I was a bit stressed. Maybe we can pretend it didn’t happen.’
Feeling a little mollified Holly opened her mouth to speak, ready to meet him halfway with her own apology, but before she had a chance to reply off he went just like he had the first time they’d met.
‘Yes but … Hang on a minute. You can’t just …’
‘Sorry. Can’t stop. Patient.’
Positively bristling with fury Holly took a deep breath and tried to regain her earlier mood of contentment. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had so got under her skin. The deep breath didn’t work but she was fairly sure retail therapy would and she set off along the street determinedly in search of something, anything, to take her mind off Adam.
She spent a very happy though fruitless half an hour or so rummaging around and finally treated herself to a small ornamental dish of absolutely no use and very little value, but she liked it. I can use it for sweets, she thought. Or peanuts. Having salved her conscience by convincing herself that it would be of some use after all, she walked across the road and sat down on a bench facing the river, taking out the smoothie and a small packet of nuts she’d also brought with her.
While she was munching she began mentally revising a part-planned leaflet and decided on a logo depicting Artemis killing a wild boar with a spear – the hunter overcoming her prey. A bit gruesome really but, hopefully, artistic! She realised also that advertising would have to come before props. There would be no point in buying six chairs if she had nobody to sit on them. Reluctantly she dragged herself away from the river.
On her way home she stopped at a shop selling art materials. They also did printing so she went in to get an estimate for a two-colour flyer and an idea of how long it would take to produce. Then it was off home to finish the leaflet design so she could get it into production and distributed as soon as possible. The chairs would have to wait.
Once the idea had taken hold it wasn’t long before Holly had tweaked the design to her satisfaction, so she turned her attention to another of her favourite things – cooking. She enjoyed what was just another aspect of her creativity. Her kitchen was the kind one dreams about but never dares hope to have.
Mrs Foster had had it refitted five years earlier, long before she’d decided to go and live with her daughter. Cooking had been her hobby too and no expense had been spared in kitting out the hub of the cottage to a very high standard. Its size, relative to the rest of the place, was huge, spanning as it did the whole of the back of the original property, now butting up against and giving access to the extension that had been added later. Holly couldn’t be at all sure it wasn’t the kitchen that had sold her on the house in the first place, with its quarry-tiled floor and fitted range.
‘I don’t know how she could bear to leave it,’ Holly had gasped at Emma soon after she’d first seen it. ‘It’s like something out of a showroom, what with all the appliances and white goods hidden behind the cupboard doors.’
‘I bet you can’t wait to get your hands on it. I still dream about your dinner parties in London. You gave up on the catering idea pretty quickly, didn’t you?’
‘Don’t remind me. Just another thing Harry didn’t want his wife to do.’
‘Seems to me he just wanted to compartmentalise you.’
‘I don’t think it was that. I really believe it would have been a blow to his ego if I’d had any kind of job other than the one at the gallery. That suited his vision of status – my status. And it was fine to have dinner parties at home but anything commercial was out of the question. He had this romantic idea of me playing housewife. It didn’t occur to him for one moment that I’d be bored out of my mind. Fortunately the attic was well lit and I could use it as a studio when I wasn’t at work. Just as long as I didn’t try to sell anything. Harry always referred to it as my hobby.’
‘And you with more talent in your little finger than him in his whole body.’
‘I’m not sure some of his girlfriends would agree with you,’ Holly retorted, feeling like she was scratching at an old scab.
***
Holly opened one oak door after another but many of the cupboards were empty. She came to the conclusion that she must plead with Emma for a trip to the retail park. Her fridge was full and the local general store had supplied many of her needs, but she was used to having all the ingredients she needed to hand and all the equipment required to cook them in. She piled such things as she did have onto the huge central reservation with its drawers and units underneath a spacious granite top. Running her fingers over the cool surface she thought about how lucky she was.
Holly opened the door to the garden, at right angles to the one that led into the studio. She couldn’t resist taking a quick peek into the studio and imagined what it would be like when it held more than just her mother’s table. She gave her head a little shake, as she did most times when she thought of her beloved parents and the cruel fate that had taken them from her.
The outside area must at one time have been quite beautiful but English cottage country gardens didn’t look after themselves and Mrs Foster hadn’t employed a gardener other than to cut the grass. Holly picked some of the herbs that were growing outside the back door, thus far her only attempt at cultivation, and sighed. So much to do. For the time being though it would have to wait.
Back in the kitchen she set to with a will, using the few implements and pans she had and grateful for the large foil containers she’d bought locally. She spent the whole afternoon cutting, preparing, and cooking while listening to music on her iPod. Finally she left everything on the granite top and settled down in her very comfortable armchair – offering up silent thanks to Mrs Foster –to make a couple of calls while she waited for things to cool down enough to put in the fridge or freezer. She began with Emma and, finding her at home, invited her and Tom over for the meal she’d promised her as soon as she’d settled in.
‘Do you want to come in the evening by yourselves, or would you rather make it Saturday and bring the boys for lunch?’
‘Every single moment of Saturday’s already accounted for but tomorrow’s Friday, they don’t have to get up early for school next day, and since it’s half-term they’ve got time to catch up on sleep. Is that too soon? What if we bring the boys in the evening, if you don’t mind eating early?’
‘I’d love that. Can Tom manage six o’clock? Will that be early enough for the twins?’
‘I’ll make sure he can. And if they start to fall asleep we can each carry one home.’
‘What!’
‘Only kidding. Do you know how much a six-year-old weighs? Perhaps we’d better bring the car. See you tomorrow.’
Holly’s next call was to Kate. Since the party they’d become firm friends and it had become part of nearly every day for them to have a natter. Phoebe too.
‘Phoebe and I are going to Bath next Thursday if this glorious weather carries on. We were wondering if you could come with us if you’re free.’
Holly jumped at the offer and Kate arranged to pick her up the following week.
Kate was a kept woman. She and Charlie had been married for about six years but Kate was a homemaker, not a working wife. The kind of situation Harry had wanted for Holly – but where it hadn’t suited Holly at all Kate thrived on it. Holly was really looking forward to a day out with her and Phoebe. She had no idea what Phoebe did for a living or how she managed to run around the country on a weekday – somehow the subject had never come up – but she was glad to have the opportunity to get to know them both better.
She’d left friends in London, of course she had, but Emma had always been her best mate and until recently she’d been too far away to see very often. Most of the people in London had been joint friends, hers and Harry’s and, while there were one or two she would miss, leaving the rest behind wasn’t the wrench it might have been.
Things had cooled off in the kitchen and Holly portioned and packed, keeping something out for dinner before putting the rest in the freezer. She hadn’t had a proper meal for two days and she ate her supper on her lap and curled up for the rest of the evening with a good book. Life was, she figured, pretty wonderful.
***
After nearly flooring Holly again outside the post office Adam had hurtled off down the street to the safety of his Land Rover. Once inside he gripped the steering wheel, though he didn’t start the engine. Bloody woman. Why does she have to reduce me to a blithering idiot every time I meet her? For the truth was that although Adam did have patients to see he was only on his daily round and there was no need at all for him to rush. It was panic that instigated his flight.
He had to face the fact that Holly had made a profound impression on him. After his disastrous engagement he’d learned to face the world with an outward air of assurance that had now become more real than assumed. Adam was a bloke’s bloke but he could usually turn on the charm to make most women his slaves. In a work environment he was assertive and confident. Seemingly that confidence deserted him in the presence of this tiny girl with the bubbly hair.
The first time he’d met Holly he’d been angry, very angry, because his commitment to his patients was absolute and he was genuinely worried about Buttercup. But his behaviour at Kate and Charlie’s was inexcusable and though he’d tried to make amends by asking for a fresh start his sangfroid had completely deserted him. He ran his hands through his thick hair, sighed deeply, and set off in the direction of his first call. As it happened he was going to see Buttercup’s orphaned calf.
‘She’s doing really well, Bert. Taking the bottle with no trouble?’
‘We got off to a shaky start but she soon got the hang of it.’
‘Okay, I’ll pop in again next time I’m passing but don’t hesitate to call if you need me. Anything else while I’m here?’
‘Just a small cut on Sunshine’s left hind if you wouldn’t mind taking a look. Otherwise, touch wood all is fine. We’ve called her Ada, by the way. The calf. After you, considering you’re the reason she survived.’
Adam was touched by the gesture, shaking Bert’s hand by way of thanks but without embarrassment. He found himself thinking about Holly again as he drove away. He’d believed after their first meeting that she’d brought what he imagined to be her London ways to the country. His ex-fiancée had been from London too and perhaps he carried with him an unreasonable bias. It was obvious at the party that Holly wasn’t like that. She’s got spirit, is all. I like that. Why can’t I just behave normally around her? He wasn’t too happy about the amount of time he spent thinking about her either.
Chapter Five (#u087cf73f-931b-5769-b50f-a7645a10a441)
On Friday morning Holly went straight to the print shop armed with her leaflet design. After a bit of discussion they decided on royal blue to be printed on yellow paper. This would match the colour scheme Holly had in mind for the gallery and studio.
‘Next Wednesday suit you?’
‘Yes, thank you, that’ll be fine.’
Now that she’d got this big decision out of the way Holly decided to busy herself resuming the search for chairs that she’d had to abandon previously. There were a number of other things she wanted to pick up as well and while she still didn’t have any students she realised she could hardly advertise if she had nowhere to put them. Previously it seemed a bit like a chicken and egg situation but in the time she was waiting for interest in the classes there was no reason she could see why she shouldn’t get the chairs. Even if things didn’t work out the way she wanted them to the table still needed chairs.
Having justified her decision she popped in to get some more ingredients and dropped them at home, reflecting on how nice it was that everything was virtually on her doorstep. She’d been seriously worried that she’d miss the capital’s shops but it hadn’t happened so far. Right,she thought after unpacking her shopping, time to look for those chairs.
Holly bypassed the first two antique shops she came to, having been in them several times before and knowing neither carried the sort of thing she was looking for. The next one was double-fronted and for some reason, though she remembered looking in the window, she’d never been in there. A little brass bell rang as she pushed open the door and Gordon appeared from behind a desk.
‘How lovely to see you, Holly. Were you looking for me or have you come to be nosy?’
‘Not looking for you because I didn’t have the slightest idea you’d be here. Is this yours?’
‘Yes, even the dust is mine.’
It wasn’t dusty at all but Holly liked his sense of humour.
‘Would you like to be shown around or do you prefer to browse?’
‘Browse, if you don’t mind. At least to begin with.’
