by Barry, Jill
She entered the kitchen to find it empty. ‘Hello,’ she called.
‘I’m in here.’ His voice percolated from the sitting room.
She headed down her hallway.
‘I haven’t moved from this spot since I collapsed here after breakfast.’ He gave her an uncharacteristic wink.
She shot him one of her headmistress glares. ‘With no coffee on tap? I don’t think so, Mr Christmas.’
‘I should have brewed up for you but I wasn’t sure when you’d be back.’
He sounded a little guarded. Zillah wondered what was going through his mind. Knowing her luck, her calculations probably weren’t causing him too much joy.
‘A cuppa would go down well,’ she said. ‘Give me a few minutes and you can join me.’
‘’You think I can do with the exercise?’
‘I think you’ve got the Mrs Robinson folder beside you for a reason.’ She locked gazes with him.
‘We do need to talk. Yes.’
‘Give me time to sort the cats out as well as brew tea.’
She needed time to think. If he was about to give her unwelcome tidings, she needed to have a few questions ready, not to mention solutions.
*
‘So you see what’s happening? Your profit’s taken a dive. Projected business is fairly good but you definitely need to expand in other directions. The main wedding season isn’t long enough to keep you in the black. And some of your smaller jobs aren’t really worth the trouble.’
‘I wonder what my elderly ladies who lunch would make of your comment. It really is that bad?’
‘When we spoke before, you knew it wasn’t a dream scenario. You’ve put certain measures in place and that’s good. But you need to be thinking big.’
‘Additional equipment? I’m well aware of that. We talked about it before.’
‘Indeed.’ He picked up his cup. ‘Forgive me, but I just wonder if you have any more of these wonderful paintings.’ He gestured to the one over the fireplace. ‘That is you, isn’t it? Gazing out to sea?’
She nodded. ‘A much younger me, of course. Daniel used it for exhibition purposes but wouldn’t sell. I told him he should – that sounds very conceited but it’s all about his interpretation of the model whoever it is. Of course, he didn’t listen.’
‘I’m not surprised. There are some things you can’t put a price on. And it’s obvious how the artist felt about his beautiful sitter.’
Zillah remained silent.
‘Don’t look so startled. I may be a number cruncher but that doesn’t prevent me from appreciating raw talent when I see it. I’ve spent a lot of time online today, researching your late husband’s work,’ said Hal. ‘You do realise there are collectors avid to buy?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve given it a great deal of thought lately.’
‘In the small hours?’
‘Sometimes. You know, Hal, I went through a stage where I couldn’t bear to think of even going through Daniel’s unsold paintings. They seemed kind of sacred. It was as if I’d be desecrating his memory.’
‘I understand where you’re coming from. Those paintings are a part of him and they’re very special to you for very different reasons than the urge to complete a collection.’
Hal was watching Zillah carefully. She’d pulled out her hair slides so her silky locks fell either side of her face, screening her expression. He worried she might be tearful until she raised her head again and he saw the determination in her eyes.
‘Everything’s clear to me now. Daniel didn’t leave me a big pot of cash, apart from the equity in our cottage. But what he did provide was a legacy. I have a stash of paintings, their value as yet unknown, but definitely worth examining with a view to selling. In the grieving days, it didn’t occur to me. He wasn’t – well, we weren’t materialistic people.’
‘I understand. But the best and bravest thing you can do now, for yourself and in memory of Daniel, is to set aside the pieces you can’t part with and arrange for the remainder to be priced and exhibited with a view to sale. As quickly as possible.’
‘And if I can raise sufficient cash, you feel Mrs Robinson is worth carrying on? I did tell you one of my competitors has stopped trading?’
‘Yes, and that might mean a bigger share of the pie for you, if you’ll pardon the pun. Zillah, you’re still building your business. Some of your bookings are with five star clients. You need to be innovative and bold. Speculate to accumulate as people always say.’
She got up. ‘No pressure then!’
Hal mimicked a pistol shape with his hand and pointed it at her. ‘You know you thrive on pressure, Mrs Robinson.’
‘All right. I’m off to fix supper now.’ She handed him the remote control. ‘I expect you want to watch the news. All men like watching the news, don’t they? Especially number crunchers.’
*
For the first time in a while, Zillah slept straight through a dreamless night. This seemed to seal her decision to take Hal’s advice, as she’d more or less reached the same conclusion anyway. That chance meeting at the golf club with Lionel had tripped a switch forcing her to accept her position. Hal reckoned he could begin sorting the canvases and creating an index. He said it was another way of saying thank you for her hospitality.
If Zak had volunteered to take on the task of cataloguing Daniel’s pieces, she knew she’d have found some excuse to decline. Despite the rocky start to their relationship, if indeed it was such a thing, she trusted Hal utterly. She knew his financial advice made sense and now she was entrusting him with her late husband’s precious pictures. Perhaps she should mention that bundle of gold sitting there amongst the jumble of picture frames. A little voice sang in her ear. What next? Will you, would you, ever consider trusting Hal with your heart?
Chapter Sixteen
Next morning, parking in her usual space outside the premises, Zillah reminded herself of the importance to stop thinking of Hal in any way but realistically. He was a businessman. She was a businesswoman being helped to realise her assets. Anything beyond a totally professional relationship was unthinkable. She must be under no illusions over that.
‘Oh no!’ She pulled out her phone and rang Hal’s mobile. In the morning dash she’d completely forgotten to ask him to watch out for the hidden jewellery.
‘Sorry, Hal,’ she said when he answered. ‘I forgot to ask you to keep your eye open for a black leather pouch when you’re going through the pictures. It contains some jewellery that belonged to my late mother-in-law but I can’t recall exactly where I packed it.’
She wrinkled her nose, listening to his reply. ‘I know, I know. You’re absolutely right. I promise to bring the whole lot into the office tomorrow and put them in the safe.’
*
At noon, Zillah was about to leave for an appointment. Abi was happily sculpting what she described as a ton of her beloved marzipan fancies when the phone rang.
‘Zillah? Annie West speaking.’
‘I planned to ring you later this week, Annie. How are you getting on?’
‘Minor crisis, I’m afraid. Not your department but we wondered if you could help. My daughter’s friend, the one due to sing at the church, has announced she’s pregnant.’
‘How lovely for her. Or -?’
‘Of course, she and her husband are thrilled,’ said Annie in her cut glass tones. ‘But she’s been advised to take things very carefully. No more bookings for the foreseeable future.’
‘I see. Do you have a replacement in mind?’
‘Not a clue. Wouldn’t know where to start. I wondered if you had any ideas.’
‘Must you have a soprano? Could the singer be a tenor?’
‘Gosh. Goodness. I don’t see why not. Can’t remember what song was chosen. Wouldn’t be the end of the world if a chap did the job, I suppose.’
‘I can recommend a fantastic tenor with masses of experience. He’s versatile and reliable.’ Zillah crossed the fingers of her free hand. ‘Shall I
see if he’s available?’
‘Would you? In the meantime, I’ll get back to my daughter. Speak soon.’
Zillah checked her watch. She had time to make a quick call. Securing a booking for Zak would help her score brownie points with the West family and it would be great for him and for Hal if he landed the gig and made a good job of it. The West clan had more good connections than the electricity board. She picked up the phone and without thinking, selected her home number on speed dial.
*
Hal sat surrounded by big sky and the sea in fractious, frightening mood. In the harbour, boats bobbed, vivid gouts of colour on the water, while fishermen, their faces etched with loving care, unloaded their catches or mended their nets. Heaps of silver sardines gleamed from the canvas. He could almost smell the ocean.
There was Zillah again, like a barefoot gypsy girl on the beach, light silhouetting shapely legs beneath long, flimsy skirt. It was a Princess Diana moment and Hal caught his breath at the loveliness of the model and the skill of the artist. The love shared by husband and wife must have been such that every time Daniel captured her image, he discovered something new, something precious, each discovery clearly a delight.
Sometimes Hal laughed out loud, or whistled in appreciation, acknowledging the sheer magic of the painter. He knew the importance of light but he’d never realised the extent of Robinson’s genius.
He felt a pang of regret over Daniel’s passing, both for his young widow and for his many admirers. He vaguely recalled the announcement of the artist’s death on the radio or maybe he’d skim-read the obituary in one of the broadsheet newspapers but of course he’d never dreamt he might end up cataloguing so many stunning pictures. Even unframed and not properly displayed, it was obvious Zillah’s blanket-wrapped legacy deserved the title treasure trove.
When he heard the phone in the hall ringing, he contemplated not answering, what was probably a cold caller. Zillah wouldn’t be getting in touch a second time and even if she needed to, she’d surely ring his mobile again. The ringing continued. What if something had happened to her? If Abi was trying to get in touch, why didn’t she ring his mobile number?
Stop being paranoid. Hal reached for his crutches, lost his balance and swayed like a tall tree in a gale. When he toppled, he landed a whisker away from the exquisite portrait of Zillah. Hal closed his eyes in relief as he realised he hadn’t caused damage but the caller just wouldn’t give up. Slowly, painfully and punctuated by groans and yelps, Hal used a dining chair to help him struggle upright.
This time he made proper contact with the crutches. No harm done. It must surely be Zillah calling him because her friends and family would know she must be at work. She’d realise he needed ample time to stump down the hallway to the kitchen and pick up the phone. His hand was within an inch of the receiver when the ringing stopped.
Hal cursed softly beneath his breath but had the presence of mind to punch 1471 and check who’d called. It was Mrs Robinson’s office number. Soon he heard it ringing and waited for Zillah to pick up. After what seemed ages, the answer phone kicked in, closely followed by the voice of a slightly breathless Abi.
‘This is Hal Christmas, Abi. Was Zillah just ringing me?’
‘Zillah? She’s not here, Hal.’
Abi sounded so young and brimming with life, he thought. ‘Someone just called the flat’s landline from your number. I still can’t fathom why she didn’t ring my mobile.’
‘I’ve no idea but she could’ve been ringing you and gone out while I was still away from the kitchen. It’s not like her to leave without telling me though. How weird.’
‘I imagine she had her reasons.’
‘Maybe she forgot something. Do you want to leave a message?’
‘Only that I returned her call. We spoke earlier, which is why I’m a bit puzzled.’
‘So, have you two managed to bury the hatchet?’
‘Not in each other’s head, you’ll be pleased to hear.’
Abi’s giggle percolated down the line. ‘I expect she enjoys your company. First Zak moves in and now you. Some girls get all the luck.’
‘Or, they draw the short straw,’ he quipped.
The call ended, leaving Hal still wondering why Zillah might have rung without giving him time to answer.
*
She didn’t often lose her temper. If she did, why did it always have to be Hal who irritated her? Driving back to the flat, Zillah was more worried than angry but convinced herself she was cross with Hal for not being close to the phone where he should be. He’d got the hang of those crutches now and should easily have reached it. Goodness knows she’d rung for long enough. It could only mean he’d got into a pickle. Maybe he’d gone out for some fresh air. Driving away from the business park, she pictured him lying on the ground, unable to move because he’d damaged the other leg this time. Or worse.
‘Come on, come on,’ she muttered while waiting for what seemed to be an interminable stream of vehicles waiting for the traffic lights to change colour. She had to check up on the wretched man to reassure herself he hadn’t lost his balance and fallen but she’d need to ring the bride’s mother and apologise for running late. The date of this particular wedding was set for twelve months from now. Nothing awful would happen if her arrival should be delayed a little. Unless? Oh no, she thought. Not the hospital again, Hal, please.
What could he have been thinking of? Her fingers beat a tattoo on the steering wheel. A fracture on top of the existing sprain would set him back weeks, maybe months. The lights favoured her. She turned off, heading for her driveway where she cut the engine and jumped out of the van.
She unlocked the gate, banged it behind her and rushed towards her door. ‘Hal?’ She almost fell inside, shouting. ‘Hal? Where are you?’
He was sitting at the kitchen table. He looked up at her and smiled. ‘Hi. I assumed that must have been you, trying to ring me. What’s up?’
Zillah blew. She flung her keys on the table where they skidded, crashing into a slender vase of pink and mauve sweet peas. She put her hands on her hips and stood, glaring down at him. She hoped her eyes showed her anger because she was going to let rip right now.
‘And you were right,’ she said. ‘I was ringing you but where were you, Hal? I’ve been so worried. I had visions of you lying on the floor, unable to move. Concussed. Or worse. You’re not supposed to take chances, you - you dunderhead.’
He was leaning back in his chair, a tiny smile playing on his lips. What, she wondered, was he up to?
‘Even if you were in the bathroom, you could’ve got to the phone,’ she raged. ‘Do you have you any idea what I’ve been going through, worrying about you? Agonising over what might have happened! I rang for ages.’ Her voice faltered. Why was he giving her that strange look?
She realised he was struggling to stand.
‘What are you doing?’ She reached out to help him.
‘No, Zillah! I can manage on my own. I’m absolutely fine. Yes, I did lose my balance and ended up on the floor. Don’t worry. I managed not to damage any of the paintings when I landed.’
Her anger dissolved in a trice. ‘As if I’d blame you if you had.’ She brushed away a tear.
She saw Hal catch his breath. ‘You were worried. You rushed out of the office to come and check up on me. Why, Zillah?’
‘Because - because I care about you, that’s why. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.’
He grabbed a chair back, supporting himself.
‘Shall I pass your crutches?’
He sucked in air. ‘Did you just say you cared about me, Zillah? Define care, please.’
She blinked hard. ‘I think I - I love you, Hal Christmas.’
‘Only think?’ He inched his way towards her.
She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. ‘I love you, Hal. I know you don’t feel the same way but you have to know. Because I’m not sure I can bear being under the same roof with you, feeling the way I do. Especially after what h
appened between us.’
He was close to her now. Really close. So close she felt dizzy.
‘Damn my wonky ankle,’ he said. ‘Do you think, if I hold you, you could stop me from collapsing? Again.’
To her surprise she felt calm. Sure. Ready. ‘I’m prepared to give it a try.’
She felt the warmth of his arms through her thin blouse. She wrapped her arms around him and to make absolutely sure, wedged one thigh against the table to support the pair of them. She tilted her chin upwards so he could gaze down into her eyes and gazed back, suddenly and wonderfully fearless.
His arms tightened around her. ‘I want to kiss you again because I love you too.’
‘Even though you thought I was a witch when we first met?’
‘And what about you? I distinctly heard you tell Abi you didn’t fancy me. Not one little bit.’
Their mouths were a whisper apart.
‘You shouldn’t necessarily believe everything you hear,’ she said. ‘And I thought you were arrogant.’
‘Shall we stop talking now?’
This time they kissed like lovers. They kissed, not in a wine-giddy moment, but because each of them was realising a dream. Sweet. Tender. Romantic. Above all, passionate. Zillah stopped worrying about everything and started accepting how important Hal had become to her.
When they stopped kissing, they still clung together.
‘I should go to my appointment,’ she murmured, nestling against him.
‘But I need lots of tender loving care.’ He kissed the top of her head.
‘I’ll have to grovel to the client.’
‘As your accountant, I should advise you to put business first. But before you leave me collapsed in a quivering mass, can you tell me again what you just said? Not the grovelling bit.’
She nodded. ‘I love you. I love you very much. Is that better?’
‘Very much better.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Seriously, my knees feel shaky.’
‘Mine too. Much too shaky to walk away from you.’
Hal managed to sit down. He pulled her on to his lap. ‘You cannot imagine how much torture it’s been, feeling the way I do.’ He hugged her close.
