‘I think that will do. I hope you didn’t mind coming back.’ Harriet James says with a smile, gently squeezing the residue of oil paint from her brush onto something that looks suspiciously like an old pair of cotton knickers.
‘Not at all.’ Helen Marchant lays the sword down on the dais and flexes her fingers, numbed from holding it in front of her. ‘It’s nice…being out of the house …at the moment’ she falters.
‘Yes, I thought it might be.’ Harriet says simply, her eyes warm with satisfaction. ‘How are things?’ She swishes the brushes through a jar of turpentine before repeating the cleaning process with the rag.
‘They’ve done what they can.’ Helen sits on the edge of the dais, looking glumly down at the floor. ‘It’s up to Alfie now’ her voice wavers.
‘Now, now, come along, don’t get upset again.’ Harriet drops the brushes into the jar and sits beside Helen. ‘It’s been quite fun this afternoon’
‘Yes…it has…I’m sorry…it’s so difficult. The house is empty without him…I don’t know what on earth I’ll do if…..’
‘You will find another and you will love that just as well.’ Harriet says firmly as she rubs paint smudges from her fingers.
‘I couldn’t’ Helen insists, shaking her head.
‘You can and you will. In a different way perhaps and you would never forget Alfie but you can grow to love another.’ Harriet squeezes Helen’s hand and stands up to return to her easel.
Helen blinks back the tears that were threatening and looks at Harriet with understanding. ‘You’re not just talking about Alfie are you, Harriet?’ she says softly. 'Is something the matter?'
Harriet gives a brief sad smile but doesn’t acknowledge the question. ‘But let’s just wait and see shall we? He’s done very well. A fighter, I think.’
‘Oh he is!’ Helen brightens. ‘I can see an improvement even though the vet is being careful not to get my hopes up too much.’
‘That’s wonderful. I am truly glad to hear it. My grandson will be immensely relieved too’ she adds, her chin lifting for the expected response.
‘Oh’ Helen’s mouth tightens and she looks away.
‘Yes, you might very well say ‘Oh’, Helen. You were not the one who had to deal with the fall out from that last little contretemps. I think you should know that it was me who suggested he write that little note.’
‘I didn’t think it could have been his idea.’ Helen scoffs sarcastically.
Harriet’s eyes flash angrily and she takes a moment to gain control of her temper. ‘Look, I do not wish to fall out with you but that sort of comment does make me very cross. I may have suggested the note but it was Kester who was anxious to offer you some words of comfort.’
‘He spoke to you about it?’ Helen looks both surprised and abashed.
‘He did. And very upset he was too.’ She finishes cleaning her brushes in uncomfortable silence. Eventually she continues. ‘I have no idea why you two should be at such loggerheads but he knew full well that you would give him very short shrift if he tried to speak to you in person, hence my suggestion.’ Harriet removes her smock and lays it over the back of the bentwood chair next to the table that holds her collection of paints. ‘I think you have him very wronged if you believe there was any ulterior motive to his gesture’ she says in Kester’s defence.
‘And I would find it extremely difficult to think otherwise’ Helen declares, pulling on her jacket over her fine wool sweater. ‘All men are the same.’
‘You could not be more wrong’ Harriet says quietly. ‘If you believe that to be true then you run a very serious risk of becoming a particularly lonely old woman.’
Helen’s eyes widen with astonishment at the effrontery of Harriet’s words and she immediately snaps back ‘What gives you the right to…’
Harriet steeples her hands over mouth and sighs her regret. ‘I apologise. I have no right at all. Please forgive me.’
Helen says nothing as she collects her handbag from the dais. ‘I’ll see myself out’
Chapter Two
Tawny House, Manor Road
later in the sitting room
Tawny House, Manor Road
in the studio
Kester pauses briefly, silently watching his grandmother from just inside the door. Though her back is still erect, her hair is a little less lustrous, her hands a little more awkward as they glide over the keys of the grand piano but the music is as soft and romantic as ever. He moves to stand behind her, leaning forward to lay a single white rose on the case at the edge of the keyboard before lightly placing his hands on her shoulders and bending to kiss the top of her head.
‘You remembered’ she whispers, brushing her cheek against his fingers, her hands barely faltering.
‘I did.’
He stands a few minutes more, his thumbs softly and soothingly caressing the base of her neck as she continues to play.
Harriet lifts her face to him as the piece comes to an end; her eyes bright ‘Thank you, darling.’ Her smile quivers a little.
‘Beautiful, that, makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck every time I hear it. It ought to be published.’
‘No, darling, it’s ours, mine and Edward’s’ She blinks added brightness from her eyes. ‘And yours to share.’
Kester kisses her forehead and smiles down at her tenderly.
‘You are so like him you know’ she adds as his hand cups the back of her head and she lifts her fingers to trace the outline of his chin. ‘so very like him. Come!’ she pats the bench beside her with an obvious determination to be more cheerful. ‘We’ll play together.’
Kester chuckles and flexes his fingers. ‘Let me limber up first.’ He slides next to her and makes much of getting comfortable before holding up both forefingers. ‘I’m ready’ he grins.
Harriet’s smile is one of deep affection. She begins to play. Kester watches, his hands twitching in readiness.
‘G! C! G! C! G! A! B! C!’ He jabs the notes and Harriet giggles. ‘C and G together next time’
‘Oh gawd, complicated’ he laughs, scanning the keyboard.
‘Now!’
His fingers dart forwards.
‘Quickly!’ she laughs ‘A sharp, G, F sharp, F, E’
‘Black one, white one, black one, white one…’
Her hand crosses his to complete the bar. ‘Other end!’
Kester scrambles off the bench and sits the other side of her, rocking with laughter as the ragtime rhythm bounces off the walls, jabbing notes at Harriet’s command.
‘Ready for the big finale?’ she asks with a chortle as he makes yet another move and catches his feet on the legs of the stool in his hurry. ‘Spread your fingers! Ready? Now!’
The power of the final chord reverberates as they hug, enjoying shared laughter.
‘I do believe you are getting better’ Harriet’s eyes crinkle as Kester blows his two overworked fingers.
‘Happy birthday, Granddad’ he says quietly.
‘Happy birthday, Edward.’ A soft smile of happy memory replaces her earlier sadness and she picks up the rose, holding it to her lips. ‘Always a rose' she murmurs 'Thank you, darling.’
‘Don’t thank me yet, I’m not quite finished.’
Kester slips from the bench and moves swiftly across the room, bending to collect a bottle and two glasses from the floor outside the door, returning to grin and hand one of the flutes to Harriet. He opens the bottle, fills her glass and then his own.
‘To Edward’ he raises his glass, willing her to understand.
‘Oh, Kester!’ Her eyes dampen again as she laughs. ‘How wonderful that you should think of this.’
‘You’ve told me about it often enough.’
‘He was never one for champagne.’
‘I know. ‘Plain and simple’s how I like it. Apart from me wife and she’s as fancy as they come!’’
‘Ohh!’ Her tears fall freely ‘That accent’ she whispers. ‘You could be him standing there’
Kester shrugs lightly. ‘Just a guess’
Harriet raises her glass and clinks it gently against his. ‘To my Edward.’
‘To Granddad’
They smile as they sip the dark beer.
