Page 71 of A Christmas Celebration
‘I wasn’t planning to,’ he said, sounding hurt.
‘Albert!’ I shouted, knocking on the door. ‘It’s me, Paige. Are you in there? Albert!’ I yelled again when there was no answer.
During a brief lull in the wind, I went to call again, but Albert’s reedy response meant I didn’t have to.
‘Who is it?’ he shouted warily. ‘Who’s there?’
‘Oh, thank God,’ I muttered, my shoulders sagging. ‘It’s me, Paige!’ I yelled as the wind immediately gained in strength again. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ he called back. His voice sounded close to the other side of the door and the music had been turned down. ‘Yes, I’m fine. You go back to the cottage and I’ll be with you in a minute.’
‘Are you sure you want to walk back to the house on your own?’ I asked. ‘It’s very windy out here.’
‘Yes,’ he said again. ‘You go. I’ll be just a few paces behind you.’
His words were followed by an almighty crash and a cacophony of swearing I wouldn’t have thought my octogenarian friend capable of.
‘I’m coming in,’ I said, shoving Brodie, who was still standing in front of the door, aside. ‘You wait here,’ I said forcefully.
I turned the handle, pushed the door open and my jaw dropped. The wind rushed in, threatening to cause another rumpus and I quickly stepped inside properly and, unable to keep Brodie out, closed the door behind both of us.
‘I told you to go back,’ Albert said gruffly as he bent to right a metal bucket and I rushed to reposition an easel which had tumbled over as a result of me opening the door.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I began.
‘And who is this?’ he scowled, pointing at Brodie. ‘I don’t want either of you in here.’
I shot a glance at Brodie, expecting to hear him apologize and hoping to see him leave, but he was rooted to the spot. His eyes were scanning around and his mouth had formed a perfect O. He appeared every bit as shocked as I felt, only perhaps I had more reason. So much for thinking that Albert’s life held no secrets.
‘I’m sorry, Albert,’ I apologized again, trying to look only at him and not, like Brodie, gawk at the array of easels andcanvases filling the hut. ‘I tried to find you at the cottage and when you didn’t answer, my… friend spotted the hut and suggested we tried the door.’
Brodie finally came to his senses and stepped forward, his hand outstretched for Albert to shake.
‘This is not a hut, Paige,’ he said, his tone full of admiration. ‘It’s an artist’s studio and it’s an honour to meet you, sir. I’m Brodie. I’m so sorry we interrupted you.’
Albert, justifiably smarting over our unwanted intrusion, wasn’t in a forgiving mood and ignored Brodie’s hand.
‘Shall we go back to the cottage?’ I suggested. ‘And get the fire going? You’re going to need it today.’
On any other day, I would have been delighted that Albert had left the confines of the cottage and, in spite of the intrigue I felt towards what I was surrounded by, I would have apologized again and left him to it, but with the storm still raging, I couldn’t possibly leave him to negotiate the path to the cottage alone, especially as the tree outside had already lost one limb, even though he did want Brodie and I to go.
‘There’s a fire in here,’ said Brodie, pointing out the area further inside the studio which housed a large and lit log burner. There were a couple of old-fashioned and well-worn armchairs arranged either side of it on a huge rug too.
It did feel cosy and my eyes quickly scanned around. I could see a kitchen area as well as glass doors and additional windows which flooded the place with light, even on such a stormy day. There were no further home comforts, however, and the rest of the space, as Brodie had already pointed out,was a clearly defined studio. There were filled canvases of every size stacked along the walls and a few were hung, but most were arranged in piles.
I looked back at Albert and found him watching Brodie who was far less discreet in his appraisal than me. I felt like my head was about to implode. I had thought I had Albert fathomed, but the discovery of the studio made me realize there was far more to him and his life than I had assumed. There was that wretched A word again.
I opened my mouth to ask the question I couldn’t resist a second longer, but Brodie beat me to it.
‘I have to ask, sir,’ he said deferentially. ‘Is this your work?’
Albert moved to turn the CD, which had continued to play Glenn Miller, completely off. I could hear the wind had dropped again, but inside the studio the tension and awkwardness made me feel every bit as buffeted as I had been outside.
‘It’s extraordinary,’ Brodie continued, walking over to more closely examine one of the canvases which was filled with rich, vibrant colour and had an energy, which even I, a complete novice when it came to art, could appreciate. ‘Isn’t it, Paige?’
Even though I was in complete agreement, I didn’t answer. I had only just got my relationship with Albert on an even keel, and wasn’t going to risk saying or doing anything which might tempt him to permanently banish me from his recently improved sight again. That said, taking in his thunderous expression, it might have already been too late.
‘Come on, Brodie,’ I said loudly, trying to draw hisattention and get him moving towards the door rather than further inside. ‘Let’s go.’
