Page 60 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘If it is her …’ Rachel was still trying to keep an open mind. ‘A big “if”. I did mention it to Tom when I called him last night, though. He seemed concerned, but I tried not to make too big a deal of it either. He’s got enough on his plate right now, what with the hearing next week and all. We’ll get through that and then – hopefully – we can finally relax a bit and enjoy the run-up to the big day.’

‘Was he still being a grump?’

‘Yeah, a bit, I suppose. But I’ve decided that positivity is the only way forward; I’m going to be supportive and try and cheer him up a bit. In fact, I think I’ll take him a picnic lunch tomorrow whilst he’s out cutting the hay. It’s always a full-on job.’

‘That sounds a good idea. Look, I’d better go, hun.’ She was aware that time was ticking away.

‘Okay. Take care, Eve.’ The words were said with warmth and a hint of caution.

‘Will do.’

‘Everything okay?’ Ben asked as she walked back into the kitchen.

‘Yeah, fine.’ The lie burning on her lips. Things hadn’t been fine at home for a while now. ‘It was just Rachel,’ she explained.

‘Ah, right.’ His look was distant. Eve felt so sad. They were so out of tune nowadays it was hard to tell what he might be thinking any more.

Eve’s heart was hammering as she tried to find a parking space. This time of day, there should be a space to pull into by the village green. Bamburgh Castle dominated the skyline at the lower end of the street, perched on ancient rocks between the cricket pitch and a dramatic sweep of blond-sand beach that was buffeted by the North Sea. The small high street was lined with cottages, a few small shops, a tearoom and an ice-cream parlour. And here at the top end of the village was Aiden’s gallery, nestled beside a seafood restaurant.

A car pulled out just ahead and Eve reversed into the space. So, she had made it and in good time; glancing at her dashboard clock she saw she had five minutes to spare. Checking her look in the rear-view mirror, she gave herself a nervous smile as she took a slow breath. She then smoothed on some pale-peach lipstick, and gave her long dark curly hair a flick through with her fingertips. Well, this was it. Time to go and see Aiden.

Outside the gallery, she stopped to look at a picture of the beach at Warkton. The sea in the painting was turbulent, and echoed the rolling wave of emotion that was building inside her. Why was she so damned nervous? Take a breath. Focus. Just good friends. That was all they were. She reached out; the door gave a little old-fashioned bell ring as it opened.

She was evidently the first to arrive. A tray of empty champagne flutes stood ready, and some crisps and nibbles were set out, untouched, on a coffee table in the centre of the room.

‘Hi.’ Aiden came out from a doorway at the rear of the gallery, looking very dashing in beige chinos and a crisp white linen shirt.

‘Hey.’ She felt suddenly shy. She pointedly looked up and around the walls, trying to avoid his gaze. ‘Can I take a look about?’

‘Of course. It’s not a huge collection, by any means. As you can see, the gallery is basically two rooms of the cottage opened up. Have you been in before?’

‘No, no I haven’t, sorry.’

‘Well, I haven’t been here that long really.’

‘Life’s just busy …’ Eve trailed apologetically.

There was an amazingly powerful seascape hanging on the wall opposite her. The waves crashing over each other, in arcs and rolls of pinks and greys and whites, even notes of yellow, not a shade of blue in sight, and yet it looked just right. Whoever said the sea was blue anyhow? The painting captured the power of the surf, its energy. She could almost hear it crash and roll in with a boom.

She was brought back to the present with the explosive pop of a cork.

‘May as well celebrate my first night.’ Aiden appeared with a bottle of Moët & Chandon to hand and a broad grin. He passed her a glass of champagne.

‘Oh, I’ll just have a half. I’ve got the car,’ she explained.

He kept the full glass for himself and poured another smaller one.

‘Cheers.’ They clinked flutes.

‘Cheers, and I hope it goes so well for you, Aiden. You are such an amazing artist.’ She scanned the artwork once more. ‘And I love the old stone walls behind the paintings; they add character, timelessness. A cottage that’s been here for centuries. Like your paintings are timeless – the sea, the tides, the ebb and flow.’ It was hard to describe it all in words, how his paintings made her feel, but she was giving it her best creative shot. She took a large sip of fizz. It bubbled and melted fragrantly on her tongue.

‘Thank you.’ He gave a warm smile.

‘Your other guests?’ she asked.

‘Oh, they’ll be here soon enough.’

It seemed a little strange that no one else had arrived as yet. He had definitely said six thirty to her. Perhaps they were all being fashionably late; maybe that was the arty way to do things, she mused.