Restoring Grace (34 page)

‘So do you paint the houses in an abstract
way?'

‘Oh no! That would never do. What people want
is a nice conventional watercolour. Rick, my ex-partner, despised me terribly,
but I need the money. It's just not
practical
for me to do installations that no one could ever
buy, even if they did
have enough money and actually wanted the contents of a skip strewn across the
floor.’

She was referring to Rick's degree show which
had impressed everyone so much they asked him to do an MA. At the time, Ellie
had been impressed, too, but felt
now that
perhaps you had to be slightly in love with Rick
really to appreciate
his art.

‘
So are you
genuinely interested in picture conservation,
or was that just a ploy to help you sort out these panels?'

‘
I must
confess that originally it was just a ploy, but
since I saw what you do, I have become really interested.
It's a fascinating thing to do, I think.' This
was true, and
she didn't think it would exactly lose her brownie points
telling him so.

‘Well, now you're going to see the end results.
I've got slides of what the painting was like before.'

‘Brilliant!' said Ellie, wondering whether his
increased
friendliness and the treat of a
day out together meant she
was getting somewhere.

They drove through South Gloucestershire to
where a
stately home had become a very smart
girls' school. It
was a magnificent
building, late Victorian, thought Ellie,
although she wasn't sure, and
didn't want to betray her
lack of knowledge
to Ran. There was a long drive up to
it,
and elegant horses, wrapped up well against the cold,
grazed in the
sunshine in the fields that surrounded the drive.

‘
They have
some wonderful trees here,' said Ran. 'It's
at its most beautiful in
autumn, though I think I prefer the more subtle tones of spring.'

‘I'd love to paint it,' said Ellie, suddenly
yearning to
have a brush in her hand again.
'But I don't think I'd have
a hope of
getting it all into a photograph to copy. With
my camera, I'd have to
stand about a mile away.'

‘
Don't you
think you should set up your easel and
paint it from life?' Ran turned
the car into a field designated for parking. 'I'm sure it's not ethical to
paint from photographs.’

Ellie was tempted to be
rude. 'Ethical? Who cares about
that? I just want to paint houses
that their owners are likely to want to buy. If I had to spend three days
sitting in the freezing cold, doing it from life, I'd have to charge thousands
for each one.’

Ran chuckled. 'You know your own business best,
I suppose.'

‘Yes, I do, as it happens!’

As they walked through the
field to the entrance to the
house, she
admired the pillars, the pediments and general
air of prosperity the house proclaimed. It was mainly red
brick
with marble columns, and although as a rule she
didn't like brick buildings, she admitted to herself that it
worked
quite well in this particular case.

‘
It's about
three times the size, but not nearly as lovely
as Luckenham House,' she
said. 'Although it is rather splendid.'

‘
I think
that sums it up adequately,' said Ran. Then he
regarded her through
slightly narrowed eyes. 'I don't suppose I could get you in for half-price,
could I?' he
continued as they tagged on to
the end of the queue. 'You
don't look more than sixteen.’

Ellie was incensed. 'If you're too tight to pay the proper,
full price for a pregnant woman,
I'll buy my own ticket!’

‘In my day
we called it "mean".'

‘
Whichever,' she said
dismissively, trying not to laugh:
he was obviously teasing her. 'I
think you're probably both.'

‘Oh no, for my generation, tight meant—’

:Oh shut up, I don't want to hear it.' She
paused. 'I expect you could get a reduced rate, though, for being a senior
citizen,' she added sweetly.

‘The cheek of it! I'm not a day over
thirty-five, I'll have you know!'

‘Sorree!' she said blithely, quite glad they
were in a queue of several dozen people; it was satisfying to get a reaction,
but she wouldn't have dared to be so provoca
tive
in private. Then she sighed. She'd have to change the
way they were with each other somehow. How would
she ever seduce him if he treated her like a child
and she
treated him like an old-age pensioner? Once inside the antiques
fair, Ellie did feel quite child
like, dazzled
as she was by the wonderful things on
display.
She ran to where a doll's house was set up, with
lights, tiny,
apparently antique furniture, and carved wooden inhabitants. There were teddy
bears, too, with enormous price tags on them because of the metal tags in their
ears. She was just wondering why a very worn
old teddy bear could be valuable to anyone who
hadn't personally loved off all its fur, when Ran took her arm.

‘Come on.
We're not here to look at the toys. Although if you're good, I'll buy you an
ice cream later.’

She flounced, mostly because he wanted her to.

After briefly consulting the leaflet, which had
a guide
to where everything was, he led her
through several
rooms, past
furniture, ancient garden tools and ornaments,
including antique (and
therefore acceptable) garden
gnomes, to
where there was a stand selling pictures. There,
in the middle, was a portrait of a young woman. Ran and
the
proprietor greeted each other.

‘Ted, how are you?' said Ran. 'I've brought an
apprentice along with me, so she can see the work of a master.’

The man laughed. 'You're good, Ran, but maybe
not that good.'

‘Come on, you know you wouldn't use me if I
wasn't. This is Ellie . . . what's your other name?'

‘Summers,' said Ellie, suddenly shy.

‘This is Ted Matthews, who makes his living
fleecing innocent victims of their pension money.'

‘My paintings are as good as a pension. Pure
investment, and at least you get to look at them while they increase in value.’

Ellie moved away from where the men laughed and
joked, fascinated by the figure in the
painting. She couldn't
decide how old the girl was, such was her
composure.
She could have been nineteen,
made old for her years by
her responsibilities. Or she could have been
in her mid-twenties, Ellen's age. She had clear brown eyes and was
dressed in a simple pale grey gown. The ruffle of
one elbow
was held back with a string of four pearls which could have
been real, they were so glowing and opalescent. Although her name was written
in fine gold print on the portrait, stating that she was the wife of the Governor
of Madras, she was not wearing a ring in the picture. Her
long, white fingers were entwined with some white
flowers
with pointed foliage; she'd need Grace to tell her what sort they were. It was
possible, thought Ellie, that the portrait was painted before she left for
India, for her
parents, who might never see
her again. The thought made
tears
spring to her eyes. Wretched hormones, making her
sentimental about
someone who'd died centuries ago.

‘
She's
wonderful!' she said, genuinely impressed as Ran
came up and stood
behind her shoulder. 'What did you do to her?'

‘Look closely, and see if you can tell.'

‘I can't see anything wrong with it.'

‘
That is
rather the point. But concentrate. There was a
tear right across it. Can
you see the mark?'

‘No. Not a thing.'

‘You need a magnifying glass,' said Ted. 'Ran
thinks he's the best conservator around, and to be honest, he's not far wrong.
Should be, the prices he charges.'

‘If you want museum-quality conserving, you or
your
clients must pay for it. But she is lovely,
I have to admit.
Had much interest?'

‘
A bit from a
couple of dealers, but I'll wait before I
start accepting much below the
asking price.'

‘Do you come to antiques fairs often?' asked
Ellie.

‘
Only the
ones that are reasonably near. We always do
well here. This one during
half-term is always popular because people who don't go skiing at this time of
year have days out instead. "Antiquing" is the hobby of the affluent
middle classes these days.'

‘I see,' said Ellie, who could indeed see a lot
of them, milling about, pointing and exclaiming.

‘
So.' Ted
turned his attention to her. 'Ellie, was it? What
do you do?’

He might as well have asked outright what she
was doing with Ran, and fortunately, while the men were chatting, she had
prepared an explanation.

‘I'm a Creative Arts graduate and I'm
interested in
studying picture
conservation. As the training's quite long
and hard, I thought I'd
better do some work experience first, to make sure it was really what I wanted
to do.’

She stopped for breath and smiled, pleased with
how all that came out, but she was relieved when a woman
with white hair and a determined expression came
up to
the stand, getting Ellie out of any further interrogation.

‘Shall we have a look around?' said Ran. 'And
then I know a nice pub where we could have lunch. We'll probably have to sit in
the garden though.'

‘Why? It's freezing!'

‘I'm not sure you'll pass as being over
eighteen.’

Ellie grimaced. 'It's all right. You're allowed
into pubs when you're sixteen if you're with a parent.’

He growled and she grinned, pleased to have got
the last word. But then, as they strolled through the house, looking at lovely
things, she realised that being so quick had worked against her - she had just
emphasised the difference in their ages again.

‘
Shouldn't
you - we - be working?' asked Ellie, trying
to sound especially adult.
'Should we go out to lunch?'

‘
I think
"you - we" can have days off sometimes.
After all, you don't really need to do work
experience
now.'

‘
No, but I
would like to have some. Really. When all
this business with the panels
is over, I'd really like to study picture conservation.'

‘You'll have a baby to look after.'

‘I know, but I'm young, my child won't stay a
baby for ever, and I'll have to earn a living somehow. Do you get plenty of
work?'

‘
I do, but
I've got a reputation. That takes time to build
up.'

‘
Then the sooner I start
the better!' she said, bright but
firm.

‘
So come on, let's go and look at the toys and then
find
the pub.'

‘
I'll just find the Ladies, first.’

The pub had a log fire, and because it was
still quite
early, they were able to get
seats next to it. 'This is lovely,'
said Ellie, looking at the menu that
Ran had handed to her.

‘What do you feel like eating? Have you
developed any strange tastes or violent antipathies?'

‘Not really, I just get very hungry.'

‘
That's
rather nice. I get fed up with women who are
on diets, and can't eat anything except steak without the
chips
or salad without the dressing.'

‘Well, I'll have the steak and the chips and
the salad
and the dressing.' She smiled at
him and he smiled back.
God, he was
attractive, she thought. 'Excuse me, I'll
just—'

‘Go to the Ladies - again. Tell me what you
want to drink first?'

‘Mineral water. Fizzy, please,' she said, and
left. For once in her pregnant life it wasn't her bladder that led her to the
lavatory, but an urgent need to make herself
look
a bit more grown-up. She'd given as good as she got
- or even better -
in their bantering about age, but there was no benefit in winning if he just
thought she was too young to have sex with.