Chapter 11
Mimi rang the bell, then realised it wasn’t working. The front door had been left on the latch though, so she pushed it further open and called out, ‘Hello?’
No response. She hesitated for a second, then made her way into the cottage and through to the living room. There was the cobalt-blue sofa that, last time, Cora had used as a launch pad to leap into her father’s arms. DVDs were scattered on the rug in front of the TV, next to a plate sprinkled with toast crumbs. Up on one wall was the mirror with the stained-glass frame that Cal had given Stacey that Christmas. And there was a framed photo of the three of them together standing in pride of place on the mantelpiece.
Mimi moved closer. At a guess, the photograph had been taken at around the same time; there were out-of-focus Christmassy colours in the background. Cora had one arm curled around her mum’s neck and the other hand clutching Cal’s knee. Her expression was full of joy and mischief as she sat between her parents, secure in their love.
‘Woof woof,’ barked Otto, bounding into the living room and making Mimi jump. Thank goodness she hadn’t been holding the glass photo frame. She looked at the dog, whose tail was wagging wildly, and heard rapidly approaching footsteps behind him.
‘Hello, are you Mimi? Yes, I think I remember you now.’ Up close, Cora had a light dusting of freckles across her tanned face, and bits of grass stuck in her hair. ‘Sorry, we were outside and the doorbell’s broken. Dad said you were coming over. I’m Cora.’
‘I definitely remember you.’ Bending to greet Otto and rub his ears, Mimi said, ‘The last time we met, you were mad about zebras.’
‘That’s for babies. I was only young then.’
Mimi smiled at her air of world-weariness. ‘Right. Well, I did knock at the front door . . .’
‘That’s why it wasn’t locked, so you could let yourself in. Dad’s out in the shed, if you want to come through.’
Cora led the way into the kitchen and out into the garden, pausing en route to help herself to an ice lolly from the freezer and ask Mimi if she’d like one too. She added helpfully, ‘It’s OK, they’re made of fruit juice so they’re good for you.’
They crossed the lawn and Cora opened the door to the shed, which was bigger than Mimi had expected and hadn’t been there when she’d last visited.
‘Dad, she’s here.’
Cal turned and said, ‘Thanks, sweetheart. Her name’s Mimi.’
‘I know it is, you already told me.’ Cora rolled her eyes and gave Mimi a complicit smile. ‘And before you ask, I did offer her an ice lolly but she said no. So anyway, me and Otto are going over to Lauren’s now, is that all right? Don’t forget you’re taking me into town this afternoon to buy my new trainers.’
‘How could I forget?’ said Cal.
‘And not those orange ones you saw in the supermarket.’
‘The fluorescent orange ones? They were my favourites.’ He winked at his daughter so she knew he wasn’t serious.
‘Bye, Dad. See you later.’ Cora took a loud slurp of her lolly, gave him a kiss, waved at Mimi and ran out of the shed with Otto at her heels.
‘Sticky.’ Cal’s tone was rueful as the door swung shut and he rubbed at the place on his cheek where she’d planted the kiss. ‘Anyway, hi. So that was Cora.’ He sat back on his stool and said, ‘What d’you think?’
‘I think you’re doing a fantastic job. She’s great.’
His expression softened. ‘She is. I’ve been lucky. Not saying we haven’t had our moments, but she’s doing all right.’
‘So are you, by the look of things.’ Mimi gestured around the shed, which was actually more of a studio. ‘These are amazing. I mean, Lois mentioned it last night, she said you’d started doing this, but I had no idea . . .’
Because propped up against the whitewashed wooden walls of the shed were canvases of varying shapes and sizes. Some were blank, still waiting to be used, but most were finished portraits. More to the point, they were good finished portraits of people Mimi was instantly able to recognise. She did a double-take as she spotted one of Prince Harry in his polo gear.
‘Oh my God, do you know him?’
‘No.’ Clearly entertained by the way her voice had just spiralled up to a squeak, Cal said, ‘It’s called making the best of what you have. I start by pinning up a dozen or so photos of the person I’ve decided to paint and work from them to create a composite picture. It’s more like having them sitting for you than just making a straight copy of one photograph. And it’s cheaper than paying someone to sit for hours while you use them to practise on. Here, like this.’ He reached around and lifted a board off the shelf behind him, bearing several photos of Cora with her mischievous elfin face captured at a variety of different angles. Then he pointed to a portrait on the wall. ‘And that’s the finished result. Because Cora doesn’t mind having a few photos taken but she can’t sit still for longer than five minutes.’
‘And do you sell them?’
‘No, no.’ He shook his head. ‘Still learning. I only started to give myself something to do in the evenings after Cora had gone to bed. Watching TV was leaving me with too much time to think. I was doodling one day while I was on the phone, waiting to see Cora’s teacher. She saw the doodle and asked me if I was a professional artist, which made me laugh. But that night I grabbed a few sheets of printer paper and started sketching with a pencil. Four hours later, I had twenty fairly terrible sketches, but I’d enjoyed making them.’ Cal shrugged. ‘I also realised I’d been so occupied I hadn’t once thought about Stacey or felt sorry for myself.’
‘That’s amazing.’
‘It really was.’ He nodded in agreement. ‘It takes all your concentration. You can’t think about anything else when you’re drawing and painting.’
‘And at the end of a few hours, you’ve created something incredible. You must be so proud,’ said Mimi. ‘I mean, to think you had all this talent and didn’t even know it. You do realise people would pay to have their portraits painted by you?’
‘Or they’d feel obliged to.’ Cal shook his head. ‘The last thing I want is to become one of those charity cases, for people around here to feel they had to support me. Like when you go along to the school Christmas fair and end up buying those cupcakes the kids made themselves. Except it’d be worse, because you can’t buy a portrait for fifty pence and chuck it in the bin when you get home.’
‘But—’
‘No, no way. I couldn’t stand having people feeling sorry for the not-very-good artist because his wife died.’
‘Except you’re not not-very-good,’ Mimi protested.
His gesture was dismissive. ‘Not good enough. I’m still practising. Hopefully I’ll get better, but I don’t need the pressure of having to meet expectations. I’m just doing it because I enjoy it.’
‘OK, I’ll stop nagging.’ She glanced around the shed at the portraits, an eclectic mix of well-known actors, people who lived in the village, famous musicians (Mick Jagger over there, propped up on a stool, looking like a skinny Shar Pei) and random characters off the TV. ‘What happens to the ones that don’t work out? Do you bin them?’
He broke into a grin. ‘No one’s asked me that question before.’
‘I’m asking it now.’
‘They’re behind the others. I leave them there for a few weeks, then get them out and start a new portrait, see if I can make a better job of it second time around.’
‘And can you?’
‘Yes. That’s how I know I’m improving.’
‘Show me your worst one.’
‘You really want to see?’
‘Of course I want to see!’
Cal wiped his hands on his paint-smeared jeans and crossed the shed. He searched behind the stacked canvases, flipping through them like giant playing cards before pulling one out. ‘OK, this is my most disastrous. In my defence, it was one of the first ones I ever did. I haven’t even made a second attempt at this one, it’s just so awful.’
He turned it around and Mimi studied the portrait in muted acrylics.
‘OK,’ she said finally. ‘Well I know who it is, so it can’t be that bad.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Nope.’
Oh. She narrowed her eyes and looked again. ‘Is it that guy from Emmerdale, the one who—’
‘No.’
‘Fine then, I give up. You win. Who is he?’
‘Dame Judi Dench,’ said Cal.
Mimi nodded. ‘Of course. I see it now.’
He laughed. ‘Come on, I promised you coffee. Time for you to tell me how things have been with you.’
In the shade of the mulberry tree, Mimi settled herself on the cushioned swing seat and stirred the coffee Cal had just handed her. He sat down in the chair opposite. ‘What a hideous thing to have to go through. All I can say is you’re well rid of the pair of them.’
‘OK, I only told you because you’d have heard about it anyway.’ Mimi pulled a face. ‘It’s pretty embarrassing, whingeing to someone about the rotten thing that just happened to you when they’ve been through stuff that’s a million times worse.’
‘Tell me about it. I’ve spent the last four years asking people how they are and getting that reaction. It’s like having all the trumps in Top Trumps, every time.’ His smile was rueful. ‘I just wish that sometimes I could lose.’
Two hours later, Mimi found herself in the passenger seat of Cal’s car with Cora and Otto sitting behind her, while Cal drove them into Cirencester and complained about the music his daughter had downloaded onto his phone.
‘It’s really good, Dad,’ Cora patiently explained. ‘You just don’t like it because you’re old.’
‘I’m thirty-two,’ Cal protested.
‘That’s what I just said.’
‘See what I have to put up with?’ He glanced across at Mimi. ‘Brutal.’
Mimi looked back at Cal. ‘What’s it like to be thirty-two?’
He grinned. ‘Exhausting.’
As Cal had evidently discovered years ago, it was nice to have something to keep your mind occupied. Every time Mimi’s mind wandered back to the situation she’d so abruptly found herself in and her stomach began to clench with muddled emotions, Cora came out with something that made her laugh. She was bouncy, interested in everything and a great asker of unexpected questions.
‘Mimi, do you miss your dad?’
Mimi twisted round in the passenger seat to meet her gaze. ‘I do. I miss him a lot.’
‘Do you think you miss your dad as much as I miss my mum?’
‘Honestly? I think you probably miss your mum more. Because you were only six when it happened. At least I was a grown-up.’
Cora nodded and wrapped an arm around Otto beside her. ‘Yes.’
A minute later, she said, ‘Mimi?’
‘Yes?’ Oh crikey, what was coming now?
‘Will you help me choose my trainers?’
‘Of course I will.’ Mimi nodded reassuringly. ‘Shopping’s what I’m best at.’
Cora was visibly relieved. ‘Good. Because Dad tries his hardest but sometimes he gets it wrong.’
Cirencester was crowded with tourists, but they managed to park and made their way on foot into the centre of town. Cal picked up his latest order of acrylic paints and red sable brushes from the shop on West Market Place, then they embarked on the search for the perfect trainers.
‘See what I mean?’ whispered Cora, when her father held up a pink and yellow pair with flashing lights in the soles. ‘Dad, no. Put them down.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ Mimi murmured in her ear. ‘You were right.’
‘What are you two talking about?’ Cal protested. ‘They’re brilliant. They flash when you walk.’
‘If you like them so much,’ said Mimi, ‘you buy a pair for yourself.’
But twenty minutes later, they found a pair that Cora fell in love with, midnight blue and scattered with tiny white stars, with a plush red inner sole. They weren’t expensive but they were comfortable and just what she wanted. Having tried them on, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror and beamed with delight. ‘These, Dad. Can I have them, please? They’re the best trainers ever.’
‘Well that was painless,’ said Cal as they left the shop. ‘Shall we find something to eat now?’ He gave his daughter’s curly blonde ponytail a tweak. ‘How about that place on Black Jack Street with the blackberry ice cream?’
And Mimi remembered the snowy day four and a half years ago when she’d been sitting in the steamed-up café and he’d spotted her quite by chance through the window.
But as they were about to make their way over there, Cal’s phone beeped with a message. He stopped to read it, then frowned and looked at his daughter.
‘What?’ said Cora.
‘It’s a text from Charlotte’s mum. She’s offering to pick you up and take you to Georgia’s party.’
Cora’s eyes lit up. ‘Great. When is it?’
‘Well apparently it starts at three o’clock. Today.’ Cal checked his watch. ‘And it’s two thirty now.’
‘What? I didn’t know it was today!’
‘But are you sure you’ve been invited?’
‘Of course I have!’
‘It’s just that I haven’t seen an invitation,’ said Cal.
Cora gazed around wildly, in search of an answer. Suddenly it came to her. ‘It might be in my school bag. Georgia gave them out on the last day of term before we broke up.’
‘So that means we didn’t reply to say you’d be going.’
‘Oh I did say I’d go.’ She nodded, remembering. ‘Definitely.’
Cal exhaled. ‘And where’s the party being held?’
‘At the water park. We’re doing zorbing. It’s going to be brilliant!’
‘Sweetheart, you should have mentioned it before now.’
‘I forgot.’
‘And these are the situations no one ever warns you about,’ Cal told Mimi.
He called Charlotte’s mother, thanked her for the offer and explained that they’d be heading to the water park from the other direction. Then, putting his phone away, Cal said, ‘OK, we have five minutes to buy you a swimming costume, a towel and a card and present for Georgia.’
Cora let out an anxious yelp. ‘Can we do it in five minutes?’