Page 113 of A Secret Cornish Wish
I nod. I’ve heard of these artists, of course. Even if some of their work is a little too modernist for me.
‘So, sadly, I’m not offering to display your work, Frankie. But I do have a vacancy at the gallery I’m desperately trying to fill with the right person. And I think that person might be you.’
Thirty
Mack and I walk back to Claire’s house, with Rosie half asleep in between us.
‘Are you all right?’ Mack asks. ‘You’re very quiet.’
‘Sorry.’ I shake my head. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I had a funny encounter in the ladies’ toilet before we left, that’s all.’
‘Oh, really?’ Mack says, raising his eyebrows.
‘Nothing weird. I mean someone randomly offered me a job. Well, they offered me an interview anyway. But I got the feeling the job was mine if I wanted it.’
‘In a public bathroom?’ Mack asks, sounding every inch the American he is.
‘Yes – pretty odd, isn’t it?’
‘What kind of a job?’
‘Working in the art gallery here in St Felix.’
‘Golly. And do you want to move back here again?’
‘Actually, I do. We both do.’ I look down at Rosie. She’s so tired she’s just about putting one foot in front of the other. I’m sure she isn’t listening to what I’m saying to Mack above her. ‘We were only talking about it yesterday. Oh,’ I say, suddenly remembering. ‘We both wished for it too . . . ’
‘Seems like you might have got your wish. It’s not often someone says their wish came true. Not unless you’re in Magic Kingdom in Disney World, of course.’ He smiles.
‘I haven’t actually got the job yet. And even if I do get it, I haven’t decided if I want to move. It’s a big decision.’
‘Of course.’
‘What do you think?’ I suddenly ask. For some reason, Mack’s opinions matter to me.
‘Me?’ Mack sounds surprised.
‘Yes, I’d like to know.’
‘I think you should do what your heart tells you to.’
‘But what if my heart is fighting with my much more realistic and practical head?’
‘Still listen to it. The heart is a very good judge of everything, I find. It gives you truthful guidance on most things. Even if it makes you fall in love with the wrong person, the feeling isn’t wrong, only the practicality of doing something about it.’
‘Are we still talking about the same thing?’ I ask, frowning.
‘Do you think we are?’
Rosie suddenly stumbles between us, but fortunately we’re both holding on to her, so she doesn’t slip.
‘Luckily we’re nearly at Claire’s,’ I tell her. ‘We’ll soon have you tucked up in bed.’
We arrive at Claire’s house and I invite Mack in – it seems like the polite thing to do. While I’m upstairs getting Rosie into her pyjamas and into bed, Mack is down in Claire’s kitchen making me a cup of tea, and himself a coffee.
‘Is she all right?’ Mack asks as I return back downstairs.
‘Yes, she’s out for the count. Tonight has really worn her out.’
