Page 98 of Crocodile Tears

“There isn’t much to tell.” She ran the tips of her fingers down his arm. “I left Oxford after we split up, and I’ve been living here, working on my paintings ever since.”

He looked around the room and saw a stack of art piled up against one of the walls.

“Finally – I get to see your work. You got over your inhibitions about having them around, then?”

Sliding off the bed, he went eagerly over to the canvasses and began sorting through them. They were covered in broad splashes of colour – bright, cheerful studies of flowers and landscapes. Coming up behind him, she put her arms around his waist.

“So – what do you think?” She rested her chin on his shoulder.

“They’re good…”

“But? I can hear a ‘but’ in your voice.”

He turned to look at her. “They aren’t what I expected. I mean, they’re good… technically, they’re excellent.” He glanced at them again. “But I don’t seeyouin any of them.”

Biting her lip, she looked away. “You could be right. I don’t like putting myself on display.”

“You should try. You’re unique – and you have your own story to tell.” He lifted her chin and kissed her. Smiling, she snuggled into him.

“This is my studio as well as my home. I’m hoping to hold an exhibition soon, if I can convince a gallery to take me on.”

“Can you afford that?”

“My godfather is paying. He believes in me.”

“You’re lucky,” Alex said moodily. “My father wants me sorting screws into boxes for the rest of my life. He couldn’t give a fuck about my designs.”

“Your designs?” She looked at him sharply. “Are you talking about the flying ducks?”

“Well, they don’t exactly fly.” He rolled his eyes. “But yes.”

“I remember you doodling your ideas on the backs of napkins when you were bored. Did you turn them into something more?”

“Yeah, not that it’s any bloody use. Dad won’t give me the money to develop a prototype. This is the future, Solange, but the idiot doesn’t see that. He’s stuck in the past. He doesn’t see how fast the world is changing.”

“Then find another investor,” she responded unexpectedly.

“What?”

She shrugged. “You don’t have to be held back by your father. If your designs are good, and if you really believe in them, then find another backer. You could set up your own company.”

“My own company?” He pulled away from her, his mind racing.

“Why not?”

“Who would invest in my designs, though?” he asked doubtfully. “I’m a complete unknown – why would anyone take that risk?”

“I could ask my godfather, if you like,” she offered. “He has pots of money. He might be interested – if I recommend you.”

“Really?” He sat on the side of the bed, in shock. “Do you mean it, Solange?”

“Absolutely. He’d probably be able to set you up with a workshop to develop a prototype if you want.”

She was offering him the world, but she said it in such an offhand way that he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

“If I want…” Alex gazed at her in bewilderment. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He imagined building the duck, showing it to his father, and making him see how wrong he was. It could be the one thing he finally did right, that would make Noah forgive him for that day on a country lane five years ago that had torn their family apart.

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