Page 46 of Finding Home in Hartfell
‘You’re saying it’s inevitable? That we can’t stop these things?’
‘Yeah. I think it’s true. The heart wants what the heart wants.’
Pippa couldn’t afford to learn what was in his eyes now. The gruff gentleness in his voice, the words she sensed he believed were enough to reveal a glimmer of the feelings she was certain he preferred to keep hidden. She needed to bring this conversation back from the brink and not imagine he felt it too, the pull of their attraction intensifying with every moment they spent together. The sketch she’d done yesterday, of Posy grazing in the field, lay on the coffee table and she realised he’d noticed it when he spoke again.
‘Why do you teach art and not show it?’ Gil nodded at the sketch. ‘And don’t say it’s complicated. You’re amazing, I’d recognise that demon pony anywhere.’
Amazing? ‘You’re just being kind,’ she replied stiffly.
‘Kind? You know me better than that, Pippa.’ His smile was a quick one. ‘It’s brilliant.’
‘Thanks.’ The familiar squeeze came again in her stomach, the memory of presenting her heart and soul to the world, laying herself bare to scorn. Her palms were damp, and she took a deep and calming breath the way she’d been taught. She’d been careless, leaving her work in here, not imagining that anyone other than Harriet and least of all Gil, would ever see it.
‘So tell me.’
‘I don’t have the time. I’m always busy with my job, Harriet and the family.’ Most people bought it if they ever questioned her, and friends and family had stopped asking, but Cassie knew the truth and understood it.
‘That sounds like an excuse.’
‘How would you know?’ Pippa made herself hold his stare, daring him to push her, make her confess.
‘Because I know one when I hear it. I can see it in your eyes, what it means to you. And I can’t explain it, why I already know that about you.’ His voice had lowered yet further, and she was completely tuned into it through the fading light. ‘Why do you pretend it’s a hobby when you clearly love it so much?’
‘How do I know you won’t mock me?’
‘I guess you don’t,’ he said softly. ‘You’ll have to trust me.’
It would be madness to trust him and confess, to return to those far away days she’d tried to put behind her. But she took a deep breath, wanting it out there suddenly, wondering why she’d always hidden behind it and allowed herself to believe that one single evening should define her passion for ever.
‘I did have a show, just once, right after I left university. It was my dad’s idea, he was so proud, thrilled about my achievement and that I had something of my own to love. He found a gallery and someone to organise it, leaned on a few contacts and all I had to do was paint. Get myself ready.’
She was staring at the empty fireplace, Lola lying before it again. She became aware of movement on her left, Gil getting up, crossing the room until he settled beside her, shoulders, arms, thighs touching.
‘Only the opening night wasn’t the success my dad had envisaged and some of the reviews were scathing, suggesting that it was pure nepotism and I wouldn’t be anywhere without his influence. That I wasn’t good enough and would never have a name of my own, on my own merit.’ She could feel herself drawn to Gil’s strength, his warmth a pillar beside her.
‘It absolutely flattened me, and my dad was livid, threatening all kinds of consequences which thankfully came to nothing. I stopped painting for two years and half the work I produced for the show went in the bin. My dad salvaged the rest, apart from the couple I did sell. Looking back, I know I was far from ready, and I let myself get swept up by his enthusiasm to help me. It wasn’t his fault, and he was devastated too. I disappeared to Majorca for a month and worked in a bar, trying to get past it.’
‘I’m sorry that happened to you.’
‘Thank you.’ She was barely breathing, having Gil this close, wanting him near and afraid to like it too much. He was a mirage really; he’d disappear from her life as quickly as he’d entered it. ‘A career in art was a dream and I’m not big on those. Not for me.’
‘I disagree. Sometimes a dream can keep you going when everything seems against you.’
‘You really don’t strike me as a dreamer, Gil.’ Pippa’s laugh was light, helping her past the confession she’d never imagined voicing to him. ‘You’re way too pragmatic.’
‘Maybe I’ll surprise you again.’ There was a smile in his voice too. ‘I’m not big on quitting.’
‘And you’re saying that I am?’ She felt hollowed out by shock, letting him glimpse a piece of her soul only to have him think her weak. ‘Because I don’t want to put myself out there again?’
‘I’m saying that you have an incredible gift, Pippa.’ He stood up and a tiny part of her was relieved; it was easier to think more clearly when he wasn’t quite so close. ‘And I don’t want you to let that experience define how you view it. You’re amazing, and one day I hope you’ll see it too.’
Chapter Seventeen
‘Mum, look!’ Harriet emerged through the back door, her arms full of something that Pippa saw, with a mixture of horror and awe, was a squirming and utterly perfect puppy, white with liver splodges and the cutest button nose she’d ever seen. ‘I hope you’re not going to be mad at me.’
She stood up hastily, rocking the kitchen chair. She’d been making some notes and was expecting someone soon but certainly not her daughter with a bundle of trouble. ‘I thought you were going to Alfie’s. And being mad at you might depend on exactly what’s going on here.’
‘Alfie’s gone out with his uncle, they’re going to see a bull. Look, Mum, isn’t she just gorgeous?’
