Page 11 of Things We Do for Love and Science
Chapter Four
The days followingthe first painting session, Gabriel snuck into the green drawing room every so often to inspect the canvas. Excitement fizzed in his veins. He was painting again. Why had he neglected it for ages when it brought him such joy?
He was thrilled to have the old skill re-emerge, to hone, test, and stretch it beyond its limits. Two years ago, he’d painted his portrait for the gallery because his father had wished it, but he hadn’t done any creative work since, not even sketches.
Delia’s portrait was the greater challenge. His face and stature he knew well enough, and replicating them hadn’t cost him much effort. She was new and interesting. He needed to observe, to analyze, and carefully translate her features onto the canvas. She was so disciplined, still as a statue for long stretches.
A wave of guilt ambushed him; was he taking advantage of her kindness? Six sessions were a lot of time to sacrifice for a scientist, who was presumably always busy with research and teaching. But he couldn’t give it up, not now. They’d barely started, and he already felt better than he had since his father’s death.
‘You’re in the flow,’she’d said, and she’d been right. Painting did get him into the flow and out of his head, away from his worries and grief, at least while she was there.
He turned his back on the canvas and made his way to his office. Plenty of pressing tasks awaited him, and he could only indulge in his re-found enthusiasm during stolen minutes here and there.
Right now, he needed to talk to the contractors scheduled to put up the scaffolding along the north-facing wall this afternoon. Decades of rain and wind had washed out the pointing between the stones and allowed moisture to seep through. Repointing the entire wall couldn’t be postponed any longer if he wanted to avoid serious water damage.
Thankfully, he could just about cover the rent of the scaffold. The repointing he’d do himself, together with his cousin Jem.
A phone call later, the contractors had confirmed the arrival of the scaffold for two o’clock. Jem promised to be there the following day at the crack of dawn to begin with the renovation.
Gabriel pored over client accounts for another hour, then snuck into the kitchen to throw together a quick lunch. After his meal, he prepared snacks and a thermos flask of tea for the scaffolding team, put everything into a basket, then headed outside.
The north-facing wall loomed over him, blocking out the sun. A sharp breeze made him shiver. He set the basket down and pushed his hands into his pockets. Head thrown back, he gazed at the expanse of masonry they needed to repoint—a herculean task, even for two people. A heaviness settled in his gut. Was he foolish to try and restore the manor house on a shoestring budget? He widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest.Renwood Hall, I’ll get you back in shape or perish in the attempt.
The rumble of an approaching truck put an end to his musings. The contractor’s team operated like a well-maintained machine, and within three hours, the wall was obscured top to bottom by a grid of wooden planks and metal poles.
True to his word, Jem arrived the next day, kitted out in steel-toed boots and a thick flannel shirt. He bounded over to Gabriel and gave him a bear hug. “Ready to save the ancestral pile from ruination?”
Gabriel patted his cousin’s back. “Damn sure I am.”
Jem squinted at the wall. “Give me a quick rundown. How are we going to tackle this?”
“We need to remove the loose bits of old pointing first before refilling the gaps with fresh mortar.”
“All right. Show me the tools.”
Gabriel smiled. “Follow me.”
