Page 23 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

‘Even if it did work out like that, and you got famous, or something, it’s not really an issue if you didn’t want to live in London. Big cities aren’t the ultimate place, you know. You can be happy and fulfilled in a career, but your home can be elsewhere.’ This time Jay’s voice was cautious. ‘Look at Edie and Ninian. They live here, but they also come to Padcock a lot. They’re like locals down there and a huge part of our community.’

There was a beat, and I began processing what he’d said. I suppose it was rather silly, when spoken out loud. Who had ever said I would have to stay in London? I started to think I was making that an excuse, and began to doubt myself again.

‘But I kind of get where you’re coming from,’ Jay said suddenly.

I looked at him sharply, and his cheeks coloured as he poked at his chow mein.

‘I had the chance to go to America, and I didn’t. Someone from a music company was in the Spatchcock one karaoke evening and heard me sing. The next thing I knew, I was being offered all sorts of opportunities. He was over with one of the film crews.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ I said quietly. Inside, my Chinese whirled around my stomach in something approaching fear. What if he’d gone? What if he’d vanished out of our lives and gone to America? I would miss him, I actually would miss him. And I know it’s silly to think about things that “might have happened”, and the fact that I was probably the least likely person he would have stayed for, but I was so relieved he had remained put. ‘Does Rosie know?’ I whispered.

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You’re the only one I’ve told. It seems crazy that I didn’t take the chance, but I knew it wouldn’t be for me in the end. The fame and all that.’ He pulled a face, but didn’t look at me. ‘I’m actually happy with my life as it is. I would miss too much over here. I’d miss . . .’ He let the words die, and I wondered if he was going to say ‘Polly’.

He cleared his throat, and continued. ‘I know it doesn’t seem much to some people, and that I kind of lurk around Padcock and pop up here occasionally to see you guys, but it’s enough for me. I have a job I love — well, two if you count the Spatchcock job — I have the kids I teach, and I have friends. People I care about.’ He stabbed a bit of green stuff viciously, then stared at it on the end of the chopstick. ‘So maybe that was my chance, and I passed it up because I knew, deep down, it wasn’t for me.’ He transferred his gaze at me. ‘So maybe I’m the silly one.’ He shook his head. ‘But I made that decision based on my heart, and not my head, so I completely get where you’re coming from. Anyway!’ He smiled again, and in a brighter voice, as if that weird little interlude hadn’t happened, said, ‘What the hell is this green stuff? Because I’m damned if I know.’

‘I think it’s broccoli,’ I replied. But as for the rest of his announcement — I just didn’t know what to say at all.

* * *

The rest of the meal disappeared into a muddle of rice, noodles and other delicious food. By the time we got back to the flat, we all had full tummies, and were sleepy. Somehow, Damien also managed to stay the night.

I headed into my bedroom not knowing who, between Jay and Damien, had the floor or who had the couch. At breakfast time, our small flat felt as full as our tummies had, and I really wished we had two bathrooms.

However, once we were all sorted that morning, I waved Jay off to the train station and shooed Rosie and Damien off to work. Rosie, of course, was heading to a day at Darling! magazine, and Damien to an unspecified Bohemian-type of activity. Currently he was working for a company who arranged open mic nights and all-night poetry recitals at a trendy bar off the Kings Road in Chelsea.

I, though, had the day off work. The only person I needed to make coffees for today was myself. I went back into the corner of the room that served as my makeshift studio and stared at the big, white sheet of nothingness on my easel. I was ready to start something new — and I had absolutely no idea what to do.

A slight frisson of panic ran up my spine. If this was my actual job, and I relied on producing pictures for an income — what would happen when I’d run out of ideas like I had done today, and didn’t have anything to sell?

Battering down the panic of a situation that I had not encountered and would probably never encounter, because I was quite sure that being a professional artist was no longer on my wish list, I stared at the whiteness again. My mind drifted back to last night and the odd conversation Jay and I had had.

Then I had an idea.

The Padcock Prowl pictures. Sometimes, it was better just to get something, anything, down on the canvas, and with these, there was no pressure and no expectation. I could just play around with the ink and the paint and see what happened.

I swapped the large canvas on my easel for a smaller sheet of mixed-media paper, and gathered my things together. After all, I knew some of Edie’s work reflected Padcock, and if it was good enough for her, it was good enough for me.

That train of thought led me to remember that I had Edie’s number. I should probably call her to tell her I’d at least been to the gallery and let her know how it had gone. Okay, I should probably be a bit more honest with her than I had been with Rosie, but I needed to get my thoughts into order before I talked to Rosie. Rosie had been the one who’d suggested chatting to Edie in the first place. I knew Edie would be a busy lady though, so, just to salve my conscience, I would text her.

My cheeks burning, I quickly messaged Edie and thanked her for the opportunity, and said I’d been to Julio’s but hadn’t taken it any further at that point.

To my surprise, my phone rang almost immediately after I’d pressed “send”.

Edie.

‘Hello!’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’m so pleased you went to the gallery! Did you see Julio? Will you see him again? Are you super excited about what you could do in there?’

‘Hi Edie. Yes — thank you. I am super super excited. I really am.’ My voice was guarded. I hadn’t really expected this conversation, so hadn’t planned anything to say.

‘Oh that’s great!’ replied Edie warmly. ‘I’m sensing a “but”, though . . .’

Ah.

‘Um. Well. I haven’t — seen Julio.’ I admitted. ‘I just . . . went for a look.’

There was a brief pause. Then, sounding curious, Edie asked, ‘Why ever not? Was he not in?’

I thought for a second, then, guiltily, I suppose, I replied, ‘He probably was in. It just — didn’t feel — right. I mean, I’m really grateful to you, I am. But I’m not sure my work is the best fit for his gallery.’