Page 65 of A Colourful Country Escape
Lexie and Grace arranged themselves around the paint pots like good witches around a cauldron. They stirred and scooped, and tried their best to make magical colours from shades of dull. Then they splashed each other, played noughts and crosses on the dust sheet and redecorated their overalls with multi-coloured handprints. But inspiration did not come.
‘We need music,’ Lexie declared with a huff.
Grace wiped her hands with an old towel, grabbed her phone and flopped to the floor. ‘You’re right, this is tough.’ She pulled her best thinking face as she swiped across the screen. ‘How about … Muse? Perfect.’
‘Oh God, don’t let Mrs Carrington-Noble rock up when we’re blasting out “Uprising” and flicking sickly beige all over her carpet.’
‘Bring. It. On!’ Grace bounced up into her best cheerleader impression, Lexie opting to ignore the droplets of paint which flew off her arms.
But after more mixing, playing air guitar and poking their concoctions with sticks, the girls had to admit that two wrong shades really didn’t make a right.
Lexie pulled her pixie cut in frustration. ‘I can’t seem to turn these sorry hues into anything vaguely vibrant. Maybe I need to start from scratch.’
‘Some brand-new recipes, or whatever they call them. Yes! Research trip.’
‘To the factory?’
‘To the souks.’ Grace swept her hand in an elaborate arc, as though painting the scene. ‘Consider yourself an explorer, going out into the world to gather inspiration.’
‘Or I could just pop to the spice aisle in Tesco?’
‘Lexie! What about your spirit of adventure? Are these people making you drab? I thought you loved travelling.’
‘I did.’ Lexie’s eyes flickered to the boxes of junk, which had been shoved to the outskirts of her bedroom. She’d definitely sorted some of them. Well, one or two. ‘But anyway, I don’t even have a current passport.’ She hadn’t dared to renew it after what had happened at the end of her travels with Inkie. It would surely be fine but … still. It was easier not to. She rubbed the tattoo, which was hidden on her back.
‘So we’ll get you one, stupid.’ Grace jabbed the screen of her phone and fiddled for a few moments. ‘There – I’ve sent you a link explaining exactly how to arrange a fast-tracked passport just in caseadventurescome your way. Simple. We’ll get you booked in quickly before you change your mind.’
Lexie expelled a huge lungful of breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. ‘Wow.’
Anyway, whatever. She probably wouldn’t be going on any adventures, fast tracked or otherwise. She didn’t have money to burn, and who would she even go with? Ben? After the messy London trip, that seemed unlikely. Foolish, even.
Grace followed Lexie’s gaze to the rows of boxes she’d found herself staring at.
‘What is all that crap, anyway? Shall we just sort it out?’
And before Lexie could argue, Grace was dragging the boxes to the mixing station and sorting through as though it was child’s play. She made one neat pile of anything useful and began drowning the rest in the vats of ugly shades they’d concocted.
‘So much better than a shredder,’ said Grace. ‘This claggy paint wipes your slate clean.’ She pulled out a sheet of paper, which was now completely saturated in paint and dripping from the corner. ‘Blank canvas.’ Grace winked.
Lexie filled her lungs with a fresh, if not slightly paint-fume-ridden, gasp of air, and joined in the life admin renovations. It actually wasn’t as scary as she’d thought. It was just … history. Old bills she’d been avoiding but had somehow paid in the end; letters from charities thanking her for donations she really couldn’t afford. Receipts for expenses she definitely should have included in her tax returns back when she was self-employed, but had probably forgotten.
‘You pretty much hide from anything to do with money,’ Grace concluded, as she submerged another batch of ancient bank statements.
Lexie felt her hackles rise.
‘It’s not a dirty word, you know. I mean, you love me, don’t you?’ Grace gave Lexie her big teddy eyes. ‘And I saw you checking out my AlexaChungs.’ She pulled at the chest of her overalls. ‘Have them if you want. I prefer yours anyway.’
They looked at Lexie’s fraying knee patches and giggled.
‘You’re not the poor kid at posh school anymore,’ Grace continued. ‘That was flipping years ago. You’re whoever you want to be, Lex. You’re whichever picture you decide to paint.’
Lexie shrugged and let her hackles flatten again. ‘Maybe.’ She was coming to learn that people with money weren’t always that terrifying. Or that different. Which reminded her. ‘Do you know the Fortescues?’ Grace seemed to know everyone in the right circles.
‘Yeah, I love Mrs F’s interior design stuff. She did some of Mum and Dad’s place. Cynthia’s a bit stuck up though.’
‘Oh. No wonder Ben won’t consider a date.’
‘I think the feeling’s mutual, although she doesn’t mind his potential bank balance. I heard she dull-shamed him at a summer ball years ago – in front of everyone. Told him to stop talking about work like a boring sod. That’s probably why I’ve never seen him on the social circuit. Pretty sure he kept to himself after that.’
