Page 44 of The House at Hope Corner
‘You don’t need to explain, Flora,’ interrupted Grace. ‘I can’t see how you and Caroline would ever really hit it off. Her friends are a rather particular kind of person and I’m pleased to say that you are not like them. Don’t forget that I’ve known her for years and she’s always been the same. Nice, pleasant enough, but… well, I don’t think I’m her kind of person either.’
‘Oh, thank the lord,’ said Flora. ‘I thought it was just me. Everyone else seems to think the sun shines out her…’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Now then,’ said Grace. ‘No more talk about Caroline, riding, Fraser, Hannah or Dettol – plenty of time for all that another day. I’m dying to see all these lovely prints you’ve brought with you, so come on, let’s have a look.’ She shuffled forward in her chair as Flora reached into the bag at her side.
‘I haven’t had a chance to finish the new ones I’ve been working on, but these will give you an idea.’
Flora handed over a folder stuffed full of her designs which had been put together over the last few years. She took a bite of her biscuit while she waited for Grace to flick through them. And then another as the minutes stretched out.
Grace didn’t say a word the entire time, but finally she reached the last piece and slowly closed the folder. Her expression was inscrutable.
‘How much do you charge for these?’ she asked, blinking.
‘Well, it depends. The original paintings usually around forty pounds and the prints fifteen. Greetings cards, postcards and the like, a lot less obviously.’
‘It’s not enough,’ said Grace bluntly. She pulled out an original illustration that Flora had subsequently made into a print. It was of a hare sitting in front of a hedge, grass and dandelion clocks at its feet and three fat blackberries on a stem above its head. ‘I would like this for myself,’ she said. ‘But I won’t pay you any less than one hundred and twenty pounds.’
Flora nearly choked on a biscuit crumb. ‘Grace, I can’t accept that!’
‘Why ever not?’ she replied levelly. ‘It’s worth easily that much.’
‘Because… because…’ Flora threw up her hand.
‘If you’re going to say, because I’m a friend, don’t you dare do yourself such a disservice.’
Flora shut her mouth, which had hung open, but there was no evading Grace’s admonishing stare.
‘Okay, okay!’ She laughed. ‘Blimey, remind me never to get on your wrong side.’
Grace held up the picture and beamed. ‘Then you’ve made me very happy,’ she said. ‘I’m also honoured that you consider me a friend,’ she added. ‘And getting down off my high horse for a minute, I really do think that you should start taking yourself a little more seriously as an artist. That’s not a criticism by the way, but modesty is far easier to adopt when you’re not very talented, and you, my dear, have it by the bucket load. Bugger modesty.’
‘Me?’ Flora protested. ‘What about you? I couldn’t help noticing the wall-hanging you have in the hallway. And the fact that it’s made with horse chestnut leaves. I bet you made it, didn’t you? Only I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. It’s absolutely stunning.’
Grace beamed. ‘Do you know, it had been on the wall for nearly a week before my husband even noticed it,’ she said. ‘He doesn’tdocreativity, and if he had his way, the house would just be painted beige! It’s one of my favourite pieces though and, as such, I can’t imagine how anyone could fail to even notice it, let alone marvel at how wonderful it is. God, I’m so brilliant!’ She laughed with abandon, throwing her head back so that her earrings swung wildly. It was the first time Flora had noticed them, a pair of crescent moons. ‘You can tell I don’t get out much, can’t you?’ she added, and then smiled a little shyly. ‘In all seriousness, I’m glad you like it, that means a lot.’
The hanging was simply two layers of sheer fabric spun from the finest golden threads which had been sewn in sections so a series of pockets were formed, a bit like a sheet of ravioli. Each section was home to an individual leaf, in glorious autumnal shades of pale yellow, through to a deep blazing bronze.
‘I love it, Grace, but you’re going to have to tell me how you did it. They look like real leaves but I don’t understand how you got them to stay fresh and not shrivel and die.’
Grace tapped the side of her nose. ‘It’s a neat trick, isn’t it?’ she replied. ‘And so simple. You just take a small branch with several leaves on it, stand it in a glycerine solution for a few days and, as the plant drinks, the glycerine preserves the leaves so that they stay soft and retain their colour. I use them in decorations all the time.’
Flora’s creative imagination went into overdrive imagining all the wonderful things she could do with this new trick. Oh, how she had missed talking about these things with someone. Ned understood. It was one of the things that had first attracted him to her, how he could marvel and wonder at the smallest of things – the sublime colour of a petal, the texture of a leaf. But here at the farm, there was no time for any of that and, given the current situation, no likelihood of returning to it.
‘I should apologise now,’ said Flora. ‘Only I can see I’m going to be spending rather a lot of time here.’
Even as she said it, she knew that Grace wouldn’t mind and that, moreover, the suggestion had been just inches from her own lips. Her smile curved around the rim of her cup as she drank the last of her tea.
‘Then I’m glad you’ve come round,’ said Grace, smiling warmly. ‘Perhaps when we’ve finished our tea I can take you out to meet the hive, and see the garden too? If you’re anything like me, all it takes is a bit of time outside and I find the inspiration just starts flowing.’
Flora nodded vigorously. ‘Actually, one thing I’d really love is to paint your bees. Do you think they’d mind?’
‘I should think they’d be honoured,’ replied Grace, draining her cup. ‘Let’s go and ask them, shall we?’
She rose and beckoned Flora to follow her through the house, stopping by the front door so that Flora could collect her boots. From there, she led her down another wide hallway until they arrived in the enormous kitchen.
‘How close to the bees do you want to get?’ asked Grace. ‘I have a spare hat if you want to get really personal, but sadly I can’t show you inside the hive just yet, it really isn’t warm enough, and they’ve only just started properly foraging again.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Although if you’re nervous we can just watch them from further up the garden.’
Flora could feel her mouth drop open and made a conscious effort to close it. She hadn’t imagined she’d be doing this today. ‘I’m not frightened of them; wasps and hornets, yes, but not bees…’
