Название: Another Life: Escape to Cornwall with this gripping, emotional, page-turning read
Автор: Sara MacDonald
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9780007388028
isbn:
‘I know you will need to do a proper inspection, Gabrielle, but is it possible to give us a quick assessment?’ she heard Peter ask behind her.
Gabby got out her magnifying glasses and knelt beside the figurehead, bending close, careful not to touch any of the painted sections. She talked the group of men through the various methods she would use, the tests she would carry out before she started. As she talked and examined the face, the cheekbones looked suddenly warm and smooth, and as Gabby’s fingers hovered over her face a strange feeling of familiarity flooded through her as if she was bending to the face of someone she knew well. She wished Nell had come, the detail was breathtaking.
‘The work in this …’ Gabby marvelled as she examined an eyelid, the relaxed and languid lips, ‘… is such a labour of love. She must have seemed so alive and vivid in her once blue dress with the water rushing past her.’
The Canadian’s expression was intent, as if he needed to gauge Gabby’s feelings and the care she would take with his beloved figurehead.
Peter Fletcher smiled. ‘It is the most wonderful find. Gabrielle, would you be willing to take her on?’
Gabby looked up, was about to answer, Yes, oh yes, when Rowe said, ‘However proficient Mrs Ellis is, a figurehead is quite a different matter to a sculpture or painting. This has been immersed in salt water for many years and has been half-ruined with modern paints. I believe we decided to discuss the restoration carefully before we offered it to anyone …’
‘That is exactly what we are doing, discussing it,’ the vicar said crossly, cutting him off. ‘That is why we have two experts in front of us who know what they are talking about …’
‘There is a question of cost,’ Rowe said, interrupting in his turn.
Gabby looked at the vicar. ‘I can’t estimate the time it will take off the top of my head. But of course I would come and do a proper detailed inspection before I sent you a quote.’
Peter was also getting annoyed with Rowe. ‘I can tell you now, the cost of the figurehead being restored and insured outside the county is going to be far more than any quote from Gabrielle. You are quite wrong; it is not a different skill. A figurehead is like a panel and Gabrielle is expert at wood treatments and polychrome. Which in lay terms, Rowe, are painted surfaces. She also has knowledge of pigments from medieval to contemporary paints. We have an expert on site, so I am unsure what your reservations are.’
Gabby felt like whispering, I’ll do it for nothing, just let me have the chance, but she knew it wasn’t professional and Nell and Charlie would explode.
Rowe opened his mouth to argue and the Canadian said evenly, ‘I suggest that having got the figurehead safely home to Cornwall, not without some difficulty, it would be foolish to move her again. She is damaged and had I thought she would not be restored locally, I would have left her in London.’
There was an uncomfortable silence. Rowe was an unpopular councillor but he was good at obtaining money from various sources. The Canadian winked at Gabrielle then watched the councillor with veiled amusement.
‘I think,’ the vicar said, ‘we should all repair to the pub and discuss this over lunch.’
‘Good idea,’ Peter Fletcher said.
‘Indeed,’ Rowe said. ‘I can then go on to talk to the Heritage people. Well, Mrs Ellis, thank you for coming, we will inform you of our decision.’
‘I meant,’ the vicar said coldly, ‘for Gabrielle to accompany us and be part of the discussion.’
Peter took Gabrielle’s arm as they walked out of the church. He was a polite bachelor and he deplored Rowe’s crassness. ‘Let’s go and see if we can find a table.’
Gabrielle smiled at him. ‘Peter, really, it’s fine. I should be getting back anyway.’
They all emerged into the harsh sunlight. Gabby put on her sunglasses with relief.
Peter said, ‘I think it’s important that you stay, Gabby. We are keen that you do this restoration, that’s why we rang you, and I’d like to talk this through with you.’
‘I agree,’ the Canadian said, falling into step the other side of her. ‘It would be good to talk with you, if you have the time. That figurehead has been my baby for quite a while.’
‘Settled,’ the vicar said. ‘Come on, Gabrielle, off we go.’
Peter moved away to talk to him and Gabby was left with the Canadian. She felt suddenly, infuriatingly tongue-tied. From the moment she entered the church she had been aware of his eyes constantly on her face.
He was a tall and lean man, and in the sunlight she saw he was older than she had first thought. His eyes crinkled with amusement as he bent to her.
‘Now what the hell could you have possibly done to upset that asshole?’
Startled, Gabby snorted with laughter. ‘Not me! Nell, my mother-in-law. She upset his brother, an untrained restorer, who ruined a valuable painting belonging to an old friend of hers and then charged her the earth. Nell wrote an article in the local paper. She didn’t name him but everyone knew exactly who she was talking about. It was the end of his career. Councillor Rowe has never forgiven her.’
They sat inside in the cool and Rowe pointedly ordered himself a pasty and orange juice and left. As the door closed behind him everyone relaxed. The young reporter started to quiz Mark on the details of shipping the Lady Isabella back to England while John Bradbury ordered sandwiches.
‘How’s Nell?’ Peter asked Gabby. ‘Still working, I hope.’
‘Oh yes. Nell will never really give up. She’s working on a huge painting at the moment.’
‘I met a guy in London who knew your mother-in-law,’ Mark said suddenly. ‘She’s still very highly thought of. I understand she worked for the National Portrait Gallery and then gave it all up to become a farmer’s wife.’
‘I don’t think she’s ever really stopped restoring. She just took on work locally instead of from London, when Charlie was old enough to help around the farm.’
‘Your husband?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you Cornish?’
‘No. Charlie is.’
Now, why did she not want to talk about Charlie, as if it might make her less interesting to the Canadian?
‘They have the most beautiful farm,’ Peter said, ‘miles from anywhere and hell to find.’
The Canadian – Mark, for heaven’s sake, he has a name – was still firmly concentrating on her rather than the reporter. Gabby, who hated the focus of attention being on her, turned the conversation back to the figurehead to the relief of the earnest young man.
Back in the church car park they said their goodbyes. The two men thanked her for coming. The young reporter got on his motorbike and roared off. John Bradbury walked home to his vicarage. Peter sent his love to Nell and went to unlock СКАЧАТЬ