Daniel’s gaze was fixed on him, utterly transfixed as he watched the boy work. When Eva saw the change in his face this time it wasn’t a veil of darkness descending, but one of inspiration. There was no careful planning in any of it, just his precious instinct.
Keiran next plunged his hand into the red, but something flashed in his eyes and instead of throwing paint with his hand, he picked up the tin and hurled its entire contents at the paper. It splurged across a blank corner of the paper, and Keiran was back on his knees again, completely involved in his task as if no one was watching. He homed in on a spot where the blue and the red had met and he swirled patterns in it, creating purples where they hadn’t existed before.
“Can you help the others get some paper together so they can start?” Daniel whispered to Eva, still watching Kieran. “I don’t want to stop him.”
“Nor do I!” Eva replied. “Okay, kids, we’ll all make our own big sheets of paper and we can join in!”
The children cheered and set to work taping together sheets of paper with an industry that surprised her. They helped one another, some tearing the sellotape while the others held the paper flat. With so many large sheets, it was impossible to stay on the plastic cover protecting Rupert’s sainted terrace. Eva ignored the spills. She’d get a mop out herself if she had to, and it would probably all dissolve when it rained anyway.
“Do what you need to do,” Daniel told the others as they laid out the paper. “And don’t worry about splashing paint on your clothes. If anything gets spoiled, I’ll make sure it’s replaced. Get creating!”
Daniel Scott had unleashed mayhem, and Eva loved it. She joined in, taking off her shoes and smearing her feet in paint, then walking backwards and forwards across the paper, making shapes with her toes. The paint squidged like wet sand under her feet and she hadn’t a clue what the shapes and colours on the paper represented, other than joy.
Even the quietest children took part, crouching on the edge of the paper and doodling with their fingers, some braving themselves to use their whole palms. The loudest flung themselves in with glee and covered themselves and the paper and Rupert’s terrace with broad rainbows of paint.
Daniel wasn’t watching anymore but working. He stood back from the table with a thick wedge of paper in one hand, the pencil he held in the other moving back and forth across the page. His gaze flickered from the scene to the drawing, and across the bottom of his black trousers, a rainbow of coloured paint shimmered where he had been caught in the crossfire.
Jake and Maya grabbed Eva’s hands and made her walk about with her painty feet on their paper, but Daniel fascinated her as he worked and she looked over her shoulder at him. The intensity was still there, but there was no anger on the surface now, all his energy focused on his work.
“Eva. Miss Catesby.” Daniel glanced up from the page and gestured to her. “When you’ve got a minute, can I borrow you? No rush at all.”
“Of course, as long as we don’t leave the terrace, though.” She linked Jake’s and Maya’s hands and crossed the patchwork of paper and plastic sheeting to Daniel. Shielding her face from the bright sunlight, Eva smiled at him. “And what can I do for you, Mr Scott?”
“I’ve drawn a picture.” He pressed the drawing secretively to his breast. Then he smiled, as bright as the sun above. “And it’s given me a crazy sort of idea. So I need to run it past someone with some common sense.”
“Are you sure you’ve chosen the right person to ask?” Eva waggled her paint-covered toes at him. She didn’t mind being silly. They weren’t lovers anymore, and the playful side of him that she now saw didn’t deserve to be met with seriousness.
“Hmm.” Daniel narrowed his eyes and looked down at her foot. “Now you put it like that, I’m not sure there’s much common sense in that foot of yours.”
“I’d say very little at all!” Eva glanced at the paper. “But…go on, I’m curious.”
“I’m learning to draw from life.” He shifted the page just a little, though not enough to show her what was on the surface. “So I drew all of you as you were painting. It’s rough and ready but…no sharp edges.” With that, he passed the paper across to her. “Be kind?”
Daniel had captured in pencil the energy and mayhem of the painting class, and indeed, there weren’t any pointy limbs. It was from life, but with the spirit of the afternoon in every line.
“I love it!” Eva told him. When she thought of how upset he’d got himself when he’d tried to draw her, tears rose in her eyes, but she brushed them away. “Have I got paint on my face now?”
“Only a little bit.” He pressed the pad of his thumb to her cheek and brushed it gently. When he withdrew his hand, she glimpsed a smear of red paint on his skin. “So, this outreach you do. Who funds you? Are you council or charity or—?”
“A mixture of things… We get some money from the council, some from grants that I have to go and look for and apply for, and fight other people to get. We had a very kind local artist who left us a legacy in her will… People donate money from time to time.” Discussing money made Eva feel uncomfortable, but he’d asked, after all. “We use a subsidised room in a community centre, and I hustle a bit to get art supplies cheaper… It’s difficult. I should really have been networking with the other artists at your show, but they can see me coming and I can see they’re thinking, Here comes Eva with her begging bowl. I know by now who’s receptive, and they chuck the odd bit of money at me if I ask nicely!”
Daniel nodded thoughtfully. “So if I stick my sig on this and send it to auction, I could give the money raised to you guys and that’d help? I just want to say sorry…sorry for— You know why. And what you’re doing… I never had anything like this, and it’s important to these kids.”
Eva’s tears overflowed and skidded down her cheeks. If he’d offered her a cheque, she wasn’t sure she could have accepted, though she couldn’t explain why. “That’s such a wonderful idea, Daniel. I don’t know what to say, really. Other than thank you. Sorry, I’m blubbing everywhere. I’m happy, really.”
“Don’t cry.” He put his arm around her shoulder and gave a platonic squeeze. “I’ll ask my agent to get things going, whip up the interest so we make you a few quid.”
Heat went through Eva at his embrace, and she tried very hard not to think about it. “It’d be a really nice advert for the group as well. Might make it easier when I have to get my begging bowl out!” Although she might not need to for a while if Daniel’s sketch attracted even a tenth of what his work usually fetched. “I might be able to take on more kids—if I had an assistant—there’s only so many children I’m allowed to take at once, you see. I could pay a student from the School of Art. And, oh, imagine if one day we had our own premises, and an exhibition space to show the children’s work, and we could have a pottery kiln, and what if we could do dancing and drama and music as well? And… Sorry, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, aren’t I!”
“It does no harm to dream.” Daniel smiled. “And I didn’t make you pointy this time. I made you soft.”
He remembered how I felt.
The heat redoubled and Eva fanned herself with her hand. “Sorry… It’s a very warm day, isn’t it? Maybe it’s time to get the juice and biscuits for the kids. Would you like juice and biscuits, too? I think the bar’s closed, unfortunately!”
“Give them a few more minutes. Let them be in another world for a bit longer?”
“They do look busy, don’t they!” The children were showing no sign of getting bored, and no surface seemed to have escaped the messy splatter of the paint. “I didn’t expect to see you. It’s a nice surprise.”
“I only intended to return your sketchbook, but—” He shrugged and ruffled his hand back through his hair. Then he looked up at the blue sky and blazing sun and reached into his pocket for his sunglasses. “Do you want to borrow these while I find your juice?”
“You were too tempted at the thought of flinging paint around. Daniel Scott co
uldn’t resist!” Eva winked at him. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind borrowing your famous sunspecs, if you wouldn’t mind.”
In a pantomime of ceremony, Daniel unfolded the arms of the Wayfarers and positioned the sunglasses just so on her nose. Then he handed her the drawing and said, “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Eva took the picture and was about to respond, by instinct, with a kiss on his cheek. She stopped herself, but not soon enough to prevent her lips from brushing the air an inch from his face. “I…erm… I’ll stay here, don’t you worry!”
Daniel left her with a smile, standing out there on the terrace amid the chaos, those much-photographed Wayfarers shielding her eyes just as they had shielded his on so many occasions. The drawing she held would make such a change not only to these children, but to the others who would follow them. Whatever she and Daniel had lost—had never really had—it didn’t change this. It didn’t change the fact that out of the mess and the misery and the lost chances, something good was going to be made.
Some of the children came up to Eva, keen to show her their pictures. They were so proud of their bright, chaotic daubs, and Eva congratulated them all.
In a conspiratorial whisper, she told the children, “You’ve all done really well today, and hasn’t Daniel been great? So when he comes back outside, hold up your paintings and we’ll all shout thank you to him.”
It was a couple of minutes before they had a chance to put the plan into action, as Daniel could be glimpsed through the enormous windows, strolling back along the gallery hallway. She could see the bright paint on his black clothes, the expression of peace on his face as he looked out at the sea. Then he pushed open the door and stepped out onto the terrace.
“Thank you, Daniel!” The shout was so loud that it even startled the noisy seagulls, who squawked and wheeled away over the sea.
Eva came forwards and gave Daniel a hug—a platonic one—and admired the view of dripping artwork that the children were holding up to show him. “Thank you!” she added, not quite so loudly.
“Thank you,” he whispered into their hug. Then he stood back just a little, just enough to address the children and shouted, “Thank you, artists! You’re all amazing!”
Daniel reached into his pocket and retrieved his mobile. “Everyone gather round Keiran’s massive painting and hold your work up so we can see it. We need a photo to commemorate this amazing day!”
The children scrambled to get into position around Keiran, and Keiran was almost smiling in response. Eva shepherded the more nervous of them into the shot, and signalled to Daniel that they were ready. He fiddled with the phone screen and stood it up on one of the refreshment tables with the care of a man building a house of cards. Then he hurried across to the group and stood beside Eva, his hand brushing hers.
“Smile!” Daniel commanded brightly. “Three…two…one!”
The phone clicked to the countdown and a sound effect of a camera shutter signalled that the photograph had been taken.
The camera flash.
While the terrace was busy once more with energetic children who had struggled to keep still for the photo, Eva froze, blinking as if the camera flash had gone off through her window again. Unease took possession of her, and she tried to supervise the children, pushing away her discomfort and trepidation with effort.
Her locks had been changed. No one could get in unless she invited them. Whoever it was would give up and get bored. And if it was one of Daniel’s obsessed fans, they wouldn’t be bothering her anymore. Eva and Daniel were not, nor could they ever be, anything to each other now besides friends.
“Biccies!” Lyndsey emerged into the sunshine carrying a tray. On it were two large jugs of orange juice, whilst a carrier bag dangled from her wrist. Eva saw a momentary flash of panic in her friend’s eyes at the state of the terrace before she was smiling again. At the table she began to unload the bag’s contents, taking out plastic cups and packets of biscuits. “Nice shades, Eva!”
Eva lifted them from her nose and grinned. “Just call me the bad girl of the Brighton art world!” The children made a beeline for Lyndsey, and Eva plunged in. “Form a queue, that’s it, there’s plenty for everyone.”
“I need to sign that,” Daniel realised, gesturing to the drawing. “So we can raise a fiver or so at auction.”
Eva showed it to her friend. “Lynds, look, quite different from Daniel’s usual style. I bet even you would like this!”
“Oh my God, that’s adorable!” She gave a little round of applause then whispered, “Bosomy you!”
“He’s drawing from life.” Eva passed the paper back to Daniel. It was true, the bosoms were quite something. “No need to embellish what nature bestowed so…erm…enthusiastically!”
“I’m an artist.” Daniel’s arrogant demeanour returned for Lyndsey’s benefit, and he put the paper down and signed his name in the bottom right corner. “A slave to my instinct.”
“Of course, Mr Scott.” Lyndsey beamed, watching as he passed the drawing back. “And we’re all so glad for it!”
Eva furled the drawing and popped it down the front of her dress. “It’ll be safe, don’t worry!” She gave Daniel a wink. “Orange squash? Seeing as you’re driving…”
He frowned and said, “Can we make that the last joke about me getting wasted? I’m not going to spoil anyone’s day, that’s not why I’m here.”
“I didn’t mean that. I was only joking. About adults having to drink kids’ stuff.” Eva picked up a cup of juice for herself, and shivered as if the sun had gone in. It was all too clear that there wasn’t any way to come back from what had happened.
“I happen to like juice.” He patted her shoulder and picked up a cup before mingling amongst the children again, his attention focused on their pictures.
“Thanks for sorting this all out, Lynds.” Eva watched him for a moment, then looked away. “And don’t worry, I’ll tidy up the mess! It’s definitely been worth it. The kids have had a fab time.”
“Rupe’s going to go through the roof if they missed the plastic.” Lyndsey cringed. “But we can unleash Mr Sunglasses on him! He can go feral!”
“Feral?” Eva lifted his sunglasses into her hair. “He’ll arrange for a team of industrial cleaners, I imagine. Then send Rupert the bill!”
“Good luck!” Lyndsey laughed, taking a bite from a biscuit. “But a good time was had by all, and what’s better than that?”
“Exactly.”
The children were clamouring for Daniel. They’d always remember this afternoon. Eva nudged Lyndsey. “We should do it again!”
“With a million-pound-a-canvas artist on tap? We absolutely should!”
“I’m surprised Rupert didn’t arrange for a photographer…”
“They didn’t think it was big enough news. We didn’t know Mr Scott was—” Lyndsey fell silent as Rupert practically flew into the terrace, a harried man carrying a large camera around his neck in tow. He looked at his previous terrace, his mouth gaping, then Lyndsey said, “Nick of time!”
“Can we get a little piccie for the press?” Rupert oozed sincerity, wringing his hands again. “Mr Scott, if you’d let me know you were coming, we would have been far better prepared!”
“We had paints and paper.” Daniel shrugged, cool again in the face of Rupert’s grovelling. As he spoke, Rupert wasn’t looking at him, though, but at the paint-drenched Kieran. “That’s all we needed.”
“I’m actually not sure… We need permission from the parents and responsible adults before we start photographing children for the newspaper. Some of them”—Eva lowered her voice, while the children whooped and laughed behind her—“some of them are under the radar, if you know what I mean. They’ve moved here for their own safety, and we don’t want a violent parent tracking anyone down from a photo they’ve seen wrapped around their chips.”
“One of Mr Scott and me then?” Rupert decided. “The artist and his exhibitor?”
“Wouldn’t it be
wonderful to get Mr Scott and lovely Eva?” Lyndsey suggested, pouring out more juice. Rupert’s eyes narrowed, his lips thinning at her next words. “The outreach angel and the bad boy?”
“I’m a bit too grubby to be an angel!” Eva laughed, but she took off the sunglasses and passed them back to Daniel. “And Daniel’s not all that bad.”
“Can I get you in front of your artwork?” The photographer gestured to Daniel, who put the sunglasses in his hair. He gestured the couple towards Kieran’s painting. “It’s really cool, by the way. I’d buy it if I had a spare mil!”
“You’d have to talk to the artist who painted it,” Daniel replied, offering Kieran the hint of a smile. “It’s not a Daniel Scott piece.”
Kieran scraped his hair out of his eyes and grinned at Daniel.
Eva patted Kieran’s shoulder, and the teenager blushed. “There you go, Kieran, I said you were talented!”
As Rupert looked on, his hands thrust into his pinstriped pockets, the photographer shot a few snaps of Eva and Daniel looking appropriately platonic. In front of the camera the sunglasses came down again, the smile one that exuded enigmatic cool, a far cry from his friendly demeanour with the children.
Once the photographer had finished, Eva convened the children to start tidying up. But their attention spans couldn’t quite stretch to that, as she knew, and most of them, yelling at the tops of their voices, were running up and down the terrace, across the unprotected areas in their bare, paint-covered feet. She could feel Rupert’s rage, but while the photographer was still there, she doubted it would erupt.
Because won’t that make an amusing image for the front page?
Daniel went from child to child, saying his farewells and thanking them, reminding those who cared about such things to stop by his car as they left. When he reached Kieran he extended his hand and said, “You’ve inspired me today. Thank you.”
The Colour of Mermaids Page 15
