The Art of Friendship. Erin Kaye

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СКАЧАТЬ a few times but the problem is that I don’t have anywhere to paint. Not somewhere dedicated anyway. I set my easel up in the study but it’s just not working out. There’s not enough space and Liam needs to be in there to work, so I have to clear my stuff away every time I finish. I’m only able to paint in snatches – an hour here and there because of the children – so it’s completely impractical to keep tidying the room. And the floor’s carpeted so I’m paranoid about staining it. It’s very frustrating.’

      ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Patsy and she frowned, thinking. ‘If I can come up with anywhere…’

      ‘I know!’ cried Janice, interrupting. ‘What about Keith’s study?’

      ‘Keith’s study?’ said Clare.

      ‘Yes. You know the way he got that old garage in the garden converted a few years ago. He had this idea that he would work from home a couple of days a week. Of course that didn’t work out as planned.’

      ‘Yes, I remember,’ said Clare, her hopes rising. Janice had shown her the study a couple of years ago, just after the conversion. It was a large, north-facing room with floor-to-ceiling windows installed in place of the old garage doors. It sat in the grounds of Janice’s house, fifty yards or so from the back door. Clare set her drink on the table and sat on the edge of the chair.

      ‘Why don’t you use that? The floor’s stone so you wouldn’t need to worry about carpet stains.’ Janice became more animated as she went on. ‘There’s heating and light and even a toilet. And do you remember the tiny kitchen in the back with a sink and a kettle?’

      Clare nodded excitedly. It could almost have been designed as an artist’s studio.

      ‘It’s got everything you need. In fact,’ said Janice, with a childlike clap of her manicured hands, ‘it’s absolutely perfect. Why didn’t I think of it before?’

      ‘Oh, Janice. It sounds wonderful,’ said Clare. It was the answer to her prayers – but one that was beyond her reach. ‘But I don’t think I could afford to rent just now.’

      ‘Who said anything about rent?’ cried Janice, her eyes ablaze with excitement. ‘I don’t want anything for it. Sure, it’s lying there empty. And we’re paying for the heating anyway so that it doesn’t get damp.’

      ‘But won’t Keith want to use it?’

      ‘No. I can’t remember the last time he was even in there,’ said Janice. ‘If he ever does the odd bit of work from home, he uses the study in the house. There’s nothing in the office but a dusty desk and an old office chair. To be honest, Clare, I’d rather see it used than lying empty.’

      ‘Why, Janice,’ said Clare, and she paused for a moment, lost for words. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She put the cool flat of her palms against her hot cheeks. The pessimist in her found it hard to believe what she was hearing.

      ‘All you have to say is “yes”,’ said Janice.

      ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Clare, searching in the faces of the others for affirmation that she wasn’t imagining things. Patsy and Kirsty were all smiles.

      ‘My own studio. It’s a dream come true. I can’t thank you enough,’ said Clare, ‘I really can’t.’ She fought to hold back tears of gratitude brought on by Janice’s largesse.

      ‘I’ve always fancied being a patron of the arts,’ said Janice. ‘And now you can help me become one. I have high hopes for you, Clare McCormack!’

      ‘I hope I don’t let you down,’ said Clare. Her stomach made a sound and she placed a hand on her solid belly, tight with excitement and nerves.

      ‘You won’t,’ said Janice firmly. ‘Now come round first thing in the morning and I’ll give you the keys.’

      Clare swallowed. ‘I really don’t know what to say. You don’t realise what this means to me.’

      ‘I think I’ve a fair idea,’ laughed Janice.

      ‘I am so very blessed in you,’ said Clare, holding her right hand over her heart. She closed her eyes momentarily, opened them, and looked at each of the three women in turn. ‘So very blessed to have you as my friends. All of you.’

      The women exchanged happy glances and there was a long, not entirely comfortable, silence. Kirsty’s high cheek-bones went red and Clare wondered if any of them realised just how much their friendship meant to her. In spite of the differences between them, they were the sisters – the family – she had never had growing up.

      A little later, Clare, realising that they had talked about nothing but her for the last half hour, said, ‘What about everyone else’s New Year’s resolutions? How are you getting on?’

      ‘Kirsty’s got something to report,’ said Janice, with a mischievous smile and a glance at Kirsty. ‘She’s been on a date.’

      Immediately Kirsty felt her cheeks burn even brighter. She did not like to be the centre of attention, preferring to be an observer. Even among her dearest friends she was quiet and reserved.

      ‘Of course! How did it go?’ demanded Patsy, crossing her legs and settling into the chair to listen, her glass balanced on her knee.

      ‘Do I have to?’ pleaded Kirsty, recalling the evening with discomfort. It had been a disaster but not one that she was ready to laugh at just yet.

      ‘Yes!’ the others chorused.

      ‘Oh, okay then. Well, you all know we went to Alloro.’ Alloro was a posh Italian restaurant on the High Street Kirsty had never been to. ‘The food was very good,’ she said. ‘I had…’

      ‘For God’s sake, we don’t want to hear about the food,’ tutted Patsy, waving her hand dismissively in the air. ‘What about the date?’

      ‘Well, he was a lawyer friend of Keith’s.’

      ‘Oh, a lawyer no less,’ said Patsy playfully, pretending to be impressed.

      ‘So. What was he like?’ said Clare gently, ignoring Patsy’s teasing.

      Kirsty thought back to the moment she’d first seen Robert and the pool of disappointment that had settled in her stomach. His dishwater-grey eyes had stared out at her from behind thick glasses – strangely, he’d hardly blinked, reminding her of a goldfish. His dark hair was thinning slightly on top and his smile was reserved, as though he was holding something of himself back. It had the unfortunate effect of making him appear as though he felt himself superior.

      ‘Average really. Average height, well built,’ said Kirsty, picking her words with care, not wanting to be unkind and reminding herself that she couldn’t afford to be choosy at her age. The pool of available men clearly had its limitations.

      ‘You mean heavy,’ corrected Clare.

      ‘No, he wasn’t heavy. Just, you know, solid.’ He had, in fact, one of those stocky, thick-necked builds that could so easily go to fat. Kirsty preferred men who were fit and lean.

      Clare looked at Patsy, put her hand up to her mouth and said in a loud, theatrical aside, ‘Fat.’

      Patsy СКАЧАТЬ