In her mind’s eye she could see the paints she’d use. Raw Sienna, Burnt Umber, Sap Green. She fizzed with a sense of anticipation that she hadn’t felt for years. Wedgwood, Fluorescent Blue, Prussian Cyan, Deep Violet, Pale Olive Green.
Ella took the stairs two at a time. Since the walk around the reservoir, her mind had kept circling back to the ideas but this morning something had clicked. Now she paused eager but a little too scared to make the first brush stroke.
There was none of the nervous trepidation that had gripped her for the last couple of weeks. She knew exactly what to do and it felt such a relief. This was for her, so it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. No one need ever see this picture. It was all hers and she could make it whatever she wanted. It felt like a liberation. Total freedom.
She picked up her paintbrush and slipped a sidelong glance at Tess, who’d crept in and had settled down in a patch of sunlight with a heartfelt sigh as if to say, I know this could take some time, so I’ll just take me a little nap. Unaccountably, the sight of the dog, snoozing and so trusting, made her smile. The two of them in harmony up here in the attic, filled with sunshine and light, so close to the sky.
Sure and confident, she made the first stroke and then the second. She painted and painted and painted. The light dimmed but she carried on. It was only when a cramp in her calf seized the muscle with vicious fingers that she finally stopped. She’d been painting for nearly three hours.
When her leg eased, she stood back to look at the canvas. And then took another step back. She’d poured her heart and everything else into it. She took another step back.
Closed her eyes and then looked again.
The trees were well executed. Light shone on the water. The bowed branches extended their limbs like dancers. The reflection mirrored the static image.
She swallowed hard and tossed down her brush. With clenched fists she rubbed her knuckles at the seams of her jeans. Technically it was adequate but she’d failed to capture the essence beneath the surface. There was no movement, no sparkle and none of that otherworldly sense of magic and secrets she’d sensed. It was crap.
She stomped down the stairs, her limbs stiff. Bugger, bugger, bugger. Who was she kidding? As she stepped off the bottom step, hell bent on a serious caffeine fix, her foot skidded and she almost went down. What the heck? A random cardboard sleeve from last night’s ready meal sat innocently in the middle of the hall floor.
As she bent down to snatch it up, she caught sight of the kitchen.
‘Oh my God!’
Tess stood, legs four square, next to the upturned dustbin. Like washed up debris on a beach after a storm, the floor was strewn with lettuce leaves, an empty coleslaw pot, polystyrene meat trays and the remnants of a plastic pack of pâté. There was a hangdog expression on her face as if to say, I’ve been a bad dog but might you still love me, just a tiny bit?
Ella stormed over to the bin, her feet crunching on random bits of carrot and onion.
‘For Pete’s sake,’ she spat, and marched over to the back door and wrenched it open. ‘Out.’ She pointed. The dog ducked her head and slunk out of the door. ‘You know you’re in big trouble, don’t you?’ Tess looked back with a mournful expression and then carried on with the long slow walk of a condemned dog.
‘Bloody hell.’ What a mess.
With a roll of her aching shoulders and a heavy sigh she pushed up her sleeves and pulled out a black bag and a pair of rubber gloves from under the sink. It took a while to round up every last bit of carrot, some of which was now smeared on the blue card which must have fallen from the pin board onto the floor at some point during Tess’s rampage. Wiping off a chip of cabbage, she was tempted to throw it away but as she re-read Magda’s words, she decided against it and pinned it back on the board.
It took half an hour to put the kitchen back to rights but afterwards she suddenly felt a lot better. Venting all this anger had helped her earlier crushing sense of disappointment.
Tess had decided that her banishment to the garden had lasted long enough and now had her face pressed up against the door, a halo of condensation ringing her nose where it touched the glass, although clearly she didn’t have the nerve to whine or scratch.
Ella glared at her. ‘I should leave you out there . . . for ever.’
The dog stared at her, tilting her head slightly. Ella looked more closely. Tess was definitely quieter than normal, subdued.
‘Oh, for crying out loud.’ She threw open the door. ‘Come in but stay in your bed. You’re still in trouble.’
Guilt radiated with every movement as the dog sloped in and went straight to her bed, giving Ella sorrowful glances.
‘Don’t try making me feel bad,’ snapped Ella.
Tess ducked her head and looked up, the amber eyes sad.
‘No, I’m not buying it. You’re a bad dog.’
How could a dog look reproachful?
‘Hello, is it possible to speak to Bets?’
‘Who’s calling?’
‘It’s Ella.’
‘Hi, it’s Devon. How are you? No more walk mishaps? Bets is wrestling with an irate Chihuahua at the moment. Can I help? Or can I take a message?’ In the background Ella could heard short snappy barks.
He was the last person she wanted to share her latest dog foul-up with. ‘I’m not sure. I need some advice. Tess has eaten something and I’m a bit worried it might give her food poisoning.’
She explained what the dog had done with a quick rundown of the menu.
‘You really don’t have to worry on that score.’ Devon replied with a restrained laugh. ‘Her nose is a lot more sensitive than ours. She wouldn’t have eaten it if it was really really bad . . . Actually scrub that, she’s a Lab, she probably would. They eat anything. All that food, dodgy chicken and rich pâté, might upset her tummy. Could affect either end.’
Marvellous, another thing to clean up. Ella had never been on such good acquaintance with rubber gloves.
‘You should keep an eye on her.’
Just peachy.
‘But do call if you’re worried about her.’
Ella let out a small sigh.
‘I mean it, Ella.’
His reassuring tone made her feel slightly better and she couldn’t resist saying. ‘Even at four in the morning?’
He laughed. ‘Even at that time. Although if I have to come out to make a house call, make sure there’s a good supply of coffee.’
She shook her head and glanced at Tess, who had her eyes closed and looked pretty sorry for herself.
‘That bit I can do, but what should I be looking for? I don’t want to call you unnecessarily.’
‘Ella,’ the gentle chiding tone he used hit her somewhere in the chest, making her feel suddenly warm. ‘Look, if you need to call, just call. After that lot, I would probably expect her to be sick or have diarrhoea. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but the one thing you should look out for is if her stomach looks bloated or feels hard. That can be the sign of something more serious. So call if that happens. But the foods you’ve described, I think she’s going to be OK. A bit windy and smelly possibly.’
‘Thanks, Devon.’
‘No problem. Oh, hang on.’ Ella heard muffled voices in the background as if he’d put his hand over the receiver. ‘Bets wants a word.’
‘Hi. How are you? Well, that was a bloomin’ performance. Don’t ever believe anyone, especially not your boss, who tells you it’s much easier to get a worming tablet down a small dog. Now, I meant to ring you today. You haven’t forgotten about the church flowers, have you?’