The Colour of Love

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How could she just do that? Engagement, priest, wedding, all within four months.

There was nobody I could talk to about it except Raj so I returned his call.

‘Am I glad you called, Nina. I’ve just heard about the engagement and the wedding date, and I didn’t want you to think that it was me pushing you. Far from it, we don’t even really know each other.’

‘That’s exactly what I was thinking.’ This man was growing on me more and more.

‘Anyway, when you get to find out some of my really bad habits you might want to delay it indefinitely.’

‘And they are?’

‘Well you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?’ he flirted.

I giggled pathetically. This was what happened when you spent hours in a room full of paint and had no one to converse with.

We talked about his day at work, his colleagues, his friends, he asked me lots of questions but I diverted the conversation so we spoke mainly about him. I didn’t want to lie so I tried to find a way of broaching the painting-by-day subject.

‘Do you believe in magic?’

‘Black magic?’ he replied.

‘No, things like coincidences. Coincidences, and also when you take a leap of faith that other things happen almost as if you have no control over them, as if someone is helping out.’ I was thinking about my transition into the art world but he took it to mean us.

‘I never thought about it but I suppose in a way I do. I took a leap of faith with you and it feels right and it’s all moving along almost like we have no control over it.’

Did I feel that way about him? Well, no. But there had been a sign.

‘What about signs?’ I asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘A sign is an indication that you are doing the right thing.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘The sign between us,’ I continued, ‘was that for days, even before I met you, I was thinking about the Matisse quote – you know, the one about creativity – and then you said it to me. Out of all the things you could have said, you gave me that quote.’

‘I can see how that could be a sign,’ he answered diplomatically. ‘It’s nice to think about things that way but I work on gut feeling, Nina, and I know I’m sure about you.’

Yes, that’s what I liked about him. His certainty and practicality: there was no spontaneous, impetuous behaviour, no way on earth that I would ever find him with a red-headed woman.

‘So what do you think?’ he asked.

‘About what?’

‘About getting engaged in two weeks?’