‘Lucy, you are far too naïve where men are concerned. Stop beating yourself up because you were finally tempted by sex—you’ve never had a lover as long as I’ve known you, and it was way past time you did. Put it down to experience and get over it. You are not the first and won’t be the last. Weddings are notorious for causing brief affairs. Too much champagne and the best man gets off with the bridesmaid, the guests get off with each other. One wedding Sid and I went to the bridegroom actually got off with the bridesmaid—needless to say the marriage only lasted the length of the honeymoon, when the happy couple returned home and the bride found out.’
‘I don’t believe it.’ Lucy actually managed a weak smile.
‘Ask Sid—the groom was an acquaintance of his. He told me the man was a serial womaniser and I didn’t believe him, but he was right.’
‘Okay, you’ve made your point. Actually, when I first met Lorenzo I didn’t like him, and my original impression was he was no gentleman. I should have trusted my instincts and steered clear. He certainly proved me right.’
‘Good—you are seeing him for the rat he obviously is, and that is the first step to recovery. Now, put the experience behind you and get on with your life. I’ll take over here and you can spend the day in your studio, creating your next great masterpiece or making a start on your latest commission. If you stay here you will scare the customers.’
Lucy agreed—not that she felt like painting. All she wanted to do was forget the weekend had ever happened. She took out her sketchbook and began to draw, but to her dismay found the small boy’s face she was copying had morphed into a remarkable likeness of Lorenzo.
She looked at it for a long time and then, turning the page of her sketchpad, began again. Art had always been her release valve from any pressure in life, and before long she was totally immersed in her work.
The next day her lawyer called and confirmed that the sale of Steadman’s had been postponed for two months. So Lorenzo had done what he promised. He was a cynical devil to pay for her favours in such a way, but at least it gave her some time to figure something out for the factory. On the sketch she had started yesterday she coloured the eyes red and added horns, whiskers and a tail.
Somehow it was cathartic, thinking of him that way. Whenever Lucy felt really down, her body hot and aching, her mind tormented by images of him making love to her, she would only have to look at the sketch to remind herself what a devil … a love-rat … he really was.
‘At last you look more like yourself,’ Elaine declared, walking into the gallery on Saturday morning three weeks later and eyeing Lucy up and down. ‘That turquoise dress Leon brought back from India is gorgeous—the colour really suits you, and the beading is perfect. But go upstairs and take that braid out of your hair and leave it loose. Remember you are a beautiful, highly talented artist, and when you try you can sell anything and everything. I have a feeling we are going to have a great day today.’
Lucy laughed. ‘I’m not sure that is a compliment to my paintings.’ But she did as Elaine said, and went upstairs and unbraided her hair. She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair back from her brow and fastening it with a silver clip, then brushed the long length down to tumble over her shoulders in gentle waves. Slowly it dawned on her that Elaine was right. The pale, sad-eyed reflection of the last few weeks was gradually fading.
Last night she had taken a walk down into the centre of Looe, and as she’d strolled along the harbour through the crowd of happy holidaymakers she’d been reminded of how much she had loved the place from the very first time her parents had brought her here. How much she still loved the place. She’d felt her heart lift a little.
This morning, on a whim, she had put on the brightly coloured dress, and she looked more like her old self again. Picking up a lipstick, she applied it to her full lips and, smiling, added a touch of mascara to her long lashes and clipped on an earring. Business was going well, and she had enough commissions to keep her busy for a while. Life was good.
Even the trip two weeks ago she had been dreading, to clear out the family home in Dessington before putting the house on the market, had turned out to be inspirational.
Meeting old friends from school, visiting the factory and talking to the workers, being greeted by shopkeepers and reminded how much everyone had respected her grandfather, who had started the business, and her parents, who had been socially active in the town until her mum died, had all reminded Lucy what a happy childhood she had.
The memories had helped concentrate her mind on the problem of the factory, and standing looking around the huge garden of her family home she’d had a eureka moment … She had come up with a brilliant idea that could save the factory and help the community.