by Carrie Stone
Kate was another growing concern. He was sure he wasn’t imagining it, but she’d been acting off with him for the past couple of weeks now. It wasn’t just her emotional distance that he’d noticed; it was her attitude. One moment she was complaining about decorating, the next talking about selling – he couldn’t fathom out the problem. It wouldn’t have been so hard to talk things over if Marcus had moved out by now; as it was, he was still with them. Alf was beginning to regret ever suggesting the idea. It was made worse by the fact that he’d quietly raised the issue with Kate, who’d jumped to Marcus’s defence and insisted he was welcome to remain a lodger for as long as necessary. Given her already stilted attitude toward him, he thought it best to reluctantly agree.
Although Alf enjoyed his friend’s company, the set-up was beginning to wear thin – he hoped it wouldn’t be too much longer before Marcus left.
Blowing out a sigh, he wondered why life had suddenly become so complicated. Things had seemed quite rosy not even a month ago. And now, well, he felt as though everything had shifted in unexpected ways – yet he wasn’t quite able to pinpoint exactly why.
A new email flagged with a high-priority symbol flashed into his inbox; opening it, he stared at the short note and attachment. A request for the third-quarter pipeline figures. His heart sank. It would take the remainder of the afternoon and well into early evening to get the figures prepared. He’d promised Kate he’d be home on time, hoping to take her to their favourite Italian restaurant and get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her – without Marcus’s presence. However, considering the gossip he’d just overheard, a surge of anxiety forced him into necessary action. The idea of leaving on time and rectifying things with Kate would have to be put on hold.
Pushing his relationship concerns aside, Alf opened the attachment and concentrated on the numbers dancing in front of him. He was prepared to do whatever it took to secure his position. Surely Kate would understand and support that. After all, it was of benefit to them both.
‘This is amazing.’ Marcus said excitedly, studying a small, soft watercolour canvas of a pastel dragonfly. ‘Why isn’t it hanging on the wall instead of being tucked away up there in the loft?’
Kate blushed. It had been a long time since she’d seen her own work and now, in the bright light of the living room, she was awed by the beauty of some of the canvases that surrounded her. It was incredible to think that she had been the one to bring them to life. The thought was almost incomprehensible.
‘I don’t know,’ Kate answered honestly, sitting down on the corner recliner and studying a larger canvas of an Indian elephant adorned in traditional festival jhools. ‘I guess after my aunt died, my inspiration dried up.’ She glanced wistfully at the artwork propped up around her. ‘It was as if my art died with her.’
Marcus sat down on the floor, facing her with his full attention. Encouraged by his empathetic silence and seeing the compassion in his bright-green eyes, she carried on instead of withdrawing.
‘She was everything to me. I don’t remember my parents – I was only two years old when they died in the accident and she took me in, having no kids of her own. She’d often tell me stories about Mum and Dad; she made sure they were a constant feature of my life, despite them not being here…’ Kate looked up with a melancholic smile. ‘But, really, if I’m honest, she was what I considered my mum. She was the only mum I knew, the only family I had.’ Wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye, Kate tried to fight the sadness that was engulfing her. ‘I was all she had, too. Her and my mum’s parents had died early, too. Ironic, really.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Maybe there is some truth in life patterns repeating themselves down the generations.’
‘I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you’ Marcus said quietly, reflecting on his own life. ‘I lost my father in my teens and that was difficult enough, despite me and him not having a good relationship. He wasn’t the kindest of men. But I’ve got my sister and my mum, so it’s a bit different.’
Taken aback at his admission and frankness, Kate was quick to answer. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know about your dad.’
Averting his eyes and not wanting to talk about it further, Marcus sensed that Kate – like himself – had a lot of unresolved issues.
‘Have you thought about trying again with the painting?’ he asked gently. ‘I mean, now I’ve seen these canvases, I can understand why you were on the brink of becoming sought after. You have a unique talent.’
Kate shifted uncomfortably. She was reminded of the conversation she’d had with Alf at her party when the sudden desire to go on an artistic retreat had flared up from nowhere. Although he’d swiftly crushed her fervour, part of her agreed with his logic. Wasn’t her painting a thing of the past? Didn’t she have enough to concentrate on at the moment?
Seeing Kate furrowing her brows in conflict, Marcus pressed on.
‘Do you not miss it?’ he asked carefully. ‘I couldn’t imagine not being able to write. It would be as if part of my life force had been cut off.’ He looked at Kate intently. ‘I’m certain, given the talent and dedication that these creations reflect, you’re meant to be an artist. Surely that’s what your aunt would have wanted for you. Maybe you owe it to her….’
Touched by his words, Kate wiped another tear from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly felt as alive as she had when she’d spent endless hours painting. It seemed such a lifetime ago. She was suddenly aware that she’d carefully and purposefully buried all associated emotions of her painting with her aunt.
The more she glanced at Marcus and her canvases, the more the idea of uncovering her artistic side again made her heart dance with passion. She felt instantly alive with newfound enthusiasm.
Slowly grinning, she looked at Marcus, who was watching her with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I think you’re right. I think it’s time I picked up a paintbrush again.’
‘Good girl.’ Walking across to her, he embraced her in a gentle hug, pleased that his probing and efforts had paid off. She was a sweet, kind woman and she deserved to be recognised.
Caught off-guard at the intimate gesture, Kate found herself closing her eyes and breathing in his alluring scent. Wanting the moment to last, she was disappointed as he pulled away and insisted it called for a celebratory glass of wine. She watched him disappear into the kitchen, Sam following behind him hurriedly.
Although she’d been upset when Alf had called and told her that he’d be working late again, it had surprisingly resulted in her having one of the most pleasurable evenings in a long while. She had Marcus to thank for it. She’d never have ventured into the loft for her artwork if it wasn’t for his insistence – and it clearly had paid off.
He returned with two glasses of wine and Sam obediently tucked under his arm. Handing her the chilled drink, he held up his own glass to hers. ‘A small toast to your artistic venture.’
Laughing, Kate ritually clinked his extended wine glass. Taking a sip of the cool liquid, her smile faded as she heard familiar footsteps on the gravel outside. Alf was home.
Rather than being happy at the prospect, she felt her stomach instinctively tightening. Marcus, unaware of her anxiety, carried on talking and she fixed a smile on her face, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Unable to concentrate on his words, she listened intently for Alf’s key in the front door.
A strange sense of panic began to wash over her.
What on earth was he going to think of her wanting to take up her art again? Especially after he’d been openly discouraging at the party.
Even more so, how would he react when he walked in to discover that Marcus was the one who had encouraged it?
She took a final gulp of wine as she heard the front door close – knowing she was only moments away from finding out…
‘Whoa, what’s going on here then?’ Alf walked into the living room and felt his irritation rise to new levels. He’d thought of nothing else but his job predicament on the way home and had been h
oping to get a chance to share his concerns with Kate. He’d assumed Marcus would be out somewhere. He certainly wasn’t expecting to find him cosying up with his girlfriend over a glass of wine. Jealousy prickled inside him.
Setting her glass down on the dining table, Kate tried to look carefree, despite feeling rather guilty all of a sudden. She hadn’t even bothered to prepare dinner and one look at Alf’s ashen, tired face told her all wasn’t well with him…. He looked odd, peaky, even.
‘I was just showing Marcus my artwork. It was a bit of mission to get it down from the loft…’ she tailed off, glancing around at the mess surrounding her. ‘I was just about to start tidying up, actually.’
‘Great artwork, though, isn’t it, mate?’ Marcus said, stepping forward with his wine glass in hand, unaware of Alf’s silent fury. ‘You’ve got a genius here.’ He smiled at Kate before knocking back the remainder of his wine in one gulp. ‘Right, I’m off out now. I’m meeting the lads at Eclipse for a few beers.’
Alf, remaining silent, nodded his head slowly, glancing quickly at Kate, who was busying herself with setting the canvases in a neat pile. He loosened his tie, sinking onto the sofa and switched on the television.
‘Okay, Marcus. Have fun.’ Kate looked up and tried to keep her facial expression neutral as Marcus slipped on his jacket. She could feel Alf’s eyes burning into her back, watching her every move. Continuing to tidy, she waited until they both heard the front door close and Marcus walk up the outside pathway before turning back to him.
‘What on earth is wrong? You look like you want to murder someone.’ She took in his bloodshot eyes and clenched fists. She rarely saw him like this. Standing up straight, she walked across to sit beside him on the sofa, sensing his quiet fury. ‘Is this about me getting the artwork from the loft? Or about me drinking wine with Marcus?’
Alf, all of a sudden tired and weary, exhaled slowly and rubbed his burning eyes with the palms of his hands. He didn’t have the energy for an argument and Kate’s fretful expression was enough to rapidly cool his anger and irritation. He’d always found it hard to stay mad at her.
‘It’s work’ he replied, jaded. ‘I’m not sure if my job’s safe, Kate.’
She stared at him for a few seconds in quiet alarm, before taking his hand and pulling him toward her in a cuddle. ‘Oh babe, I’m sorry… but don’t worry. If worse comes to worst, we’ll get through it, won’t we.’
He didn’t answer.
Ignoring the ball of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, she kissed his cheek, wondering how Alf would cope without the job he’d lived and breathed for the past five years.
It was another drama to add to the storm that was brewing.
Chapter 8
‘What a wonderful little chap he is,’ Alan remarked, his usually stormy grey eyes reflecting a shade of icy blue in the early-morning sunlight. He sounded remarkably content walking in the wooded grounds of the care home with his new aide by his side.
Kate wrapped her light, black coat around her a little more tightly, for despite the bright skies it was a very fresh day. She grinned as Sam obediently sat in front of Alan with an excited wag of his tail, in anticipation of the treat in Alan’s hand. ‘I still can’t believe you managed to get Mr Steinbach to agree to Sam being here on a daily basis.’
Extending the treat to the well-behaved puppy, Alan smiled. ‘Ah, my dear, you do not understand my influence.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Many of the residents with whom I spoke thought it was an ingenious idea. Walter would have been a fool not to agree.’
‘Well, I want you to know how thankful I am, Alan. It’s certainly a good thing for Sam, too. I did feel a little guilty leaving him cooped up all day at home.’ She lowered her eyes, not wishing to add that the atmosphere in the house hadn’t been the most inviting for him either, of late.
‘It’s my pleasure, dear. I am most honoured to be of use in some way.’ He looked forlornly into the distance. ‘Heaven only knows how much I need something to occupy my time.’ His eyes returned to their stormy shade.
Kate was grateful as Sam, as if sensing the older man’s sudden bleakness, gave a small whimper and jumped up against Alan’s knees, licking the tweed material of his trousers enthusiastically. Alan laughed, cheeriness returning to him.
‘Shall we start to head back?’ she asked gently, aware that they’d been walking outside much longer than anticipated. ‘I don’t want the others thinking that I’m skiving my duties. I’m sure Hilda will be wondering where I’ve got to.’ She shrugged apologetically.
‘Of course.’ Alan agreed, thinking privately that Kate was always more concerned about other’s wellbeing than her own. It would be the downfall of her if she wasn’t careful.
They walked together in comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. It was hard to believe that Alan had once been a leading QC and judge. Although distinctly well-educated and articulate, Kate found it difficult to apply the notoriously hard, unyielding reputation that she’d heard associated with him to the kindly Alan that she knew. It was another reminder that people changed in life as time passed.
She wondered if that was what was happening to her, too. She had hardly been able to recognise herself over the past week – her rekindled passion for painting had filled many a spare hour. She knew there were more important matters that she should have been concentrating on, but the heady sense of getting lost in creativity was having an effect on her spirit – she felt stimulated and inspired. It was becoming addictive. Especially more so now that Alf had dropped his latest bombshell.
As if being able to read her thoughts, Alan turned to her with knitted brows. ‘I was rather surprised to hear some gossip about you being a remarkable artist?’ He looked at her expectantly. ‘Is that true, dear?’
Feeling heat rising in her cheeks, Kate blushed. ‘Well, I’m uncertain about “remarkable”,’ she teased. ‘But yes, I’ve recently got back into my painting. When I was younger I used animals as my inspiration, but this time around I’m drawn to flowers.’
‘How extraordinary,’ Alan remarked as they approached the arched stone porchway of the entrance. ‘I’d be very interested in seeing your work one day. I’m sure we all would.’
Entering into the care home’s cream and beige foyer, with the smell of the freshly painted corridor still hanging in the air, Alan commanded Sam’s attention. ‘Right, chappie, you’re to come with me now.’ He turned to Kate. ‘I shan’t be needing any further assistance this morning. But before I take Sam on his rounds, I’d like you to consider the idea of showcasing your art here – at Oak Park.’
Stumped for words, Kate could only shrug uncertainly.
‘You see, for all the exterior beauty of this fine establishment, the interior décor is rather dull.’ Alan pointedly glanced towards the nearest seating area, where only mahogany wood chairs and matching tables occupied the space. ‘And for the fees that this place warrants, one should be treated to a little more decorative luxury.’
Kate privately agreed, but was reluctant to voice her opinion. She hesitated. ‘I would love to, Alan, but you haven’t even seen my artwork…’
Cutting her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, Alan interjected. ‘I have it on good understanding that you’re more than capable.’ He winked at her.
Immediately knowing that Alan was referring to the small canvas she’d brought to show Vivian, she relaxed a little. It was warming to know that Viv had sung her praises, despite it being something she’d shown her in confidence. Still, she didn’t quite know how to phrase her next concern without offending.
‘The thing is, Alan, I’m pretty sure that Mr Steinbach, not to mention the Board of Oak Park, would not want my art hanging on its walls.’ She tried to joke lightly, hoping that she hadn’t overstepped her mark.
‘Nonsense,’ Alan replied quickly, a smirk on his face. ‘Leave it with me.’
Looking at him quizzically, Kate decided it best not to challenge the idea further. Instead she unbutt
oned her coat, glancing at the grandfather clock behind the reception desk. ‘Okay, I had better get going then. If there’s any problem with Sam, don’t hesitate to call me.’
Alan chuckled, tugging on Sam’s lead. ‘Don’t you worry. We’ll be fine. I’ve had to deal with worse things in my lifetime than a Cavalier King Charles – believe you me!’
Not doubting him for a moment, Kate said a brief goodbye before rushing on with her round.
Approaching home, Kate saw a warm glow emanating from behind the cream roman blinds in the living-room window and wondered whether Alf or Marcus had arrived before her. She was a little later than usual, given that she’d had to locate Alan – whom she’d eventually found in one of the side gardens – and collect Sam. Nevertheless she was pleased that he’d lost track of time due to enjoying the puppy’s company so immensely. It made her decision as to whether Sam could eventually become burdensome an easy one. She hadn’t seen Alan with such a spring in his step for quite some time.
She parked the car and, reaching for Sam in his small pet carrier, made her way towards the house.
Over the past week Kate had tried to be extra sympathetic towards Alf – the news of Hamilton’s restructuring had appeared to hit him hard. She’d tried constantly to reassure him that even if there was an undesirable outcome, it wasn’t a devastating situation. She still had her faith in him – he had a proven track record of his ability and drive, he was certain to secure a new job quickly. Plus, it wasn’t as though they had financial worries. Their savings fund was exceptionally healthy – it would most certainly tide them over if it came to the worst. But Alf wasn’t in agreement. Instead he kept arguing that his career was at stake and that their savings were not intended for situations such as redundancy – the money was for their future together.
This, at least, had warmed Kate to the very core. She’d repeatedly replayed the moment in her head over the last few days, squashing a lot of her doubts. Such simple words had given her a much-needed confirmation of Alf’s commitment. Yet she feared it was Alf’s ego that was taking the biggest battering. The very thought that he’d worked so hard over the past two years and now found himself at a point where he had little control over the situation demonstrated that he wasn’t handling the situation at all well.
