your afternoon?’
There it was; not quite respect, but a darned sight better than the scorn Irena reserved for her brother-in-law. If she knew that Judith was not a widow …
‘I did. Thank you.’
Nathaniel tasted his soup cautiously, then smiled. ‘I did not think I would like fish soup. Never had it before.’ He savoured another spoonful. ‘I slightly preferred the watercress last night, but this is delicious in quite a different way.’ Both his companions murmured agreement. He turned to Judith. ‘So my old neighbour inspired you to try your hand at a seascape?’
Judith smiled widely. ‘I suppose he did.’
She would have chuckled if she had not been enjoying the soup so much. It really was that simple, after all. One of hermother’s favourite adages had been ‘Never stew in your own juice’, closely followed by, ‘Keep those fingers busy, Jude!’ And she had been right, of course. Everything seemed to have stopped dead after that morning when Jack had told her he was leaving. For two long months her fingers had so often been idle, and she had stewed her own juice into a bitter brew. And now, this afternoon, she had tried her hand at a seascape. Her smile widened.
And then Sybil pushed her soup away and said quietly, ‘But Robert is painting for the end of the world. Surely that is what his work is about?’
Judith stopped smiling. This woman had seen exactly what she had seen. The agonizing poignancy of Hausmann’s work. Nothing was simple after all. She kept silent, head down, intent on her soup. Nathaniel laughed.
From the other table, Margaret Olsen called across, ‘We’re trying to agree on an outing tomorrow. Sven wants to stride across the moor – the sort of thing we do back home in Sweden. Jennifer and I want to go to Exeter and see the shops. Stanley – of course – will do what Jennifer does!’ She gave him an unbearably arch smile.
Nathaniel said, ‘I don’t mind. I have friends in Exeter. But I would like to see the moor. The weather forecast was good.’
Judith did not look up. She would drop out of any of the arrangements and go back to the Long Gallery. Unexpectedly Sybil spoke up.
‘I would like to be dropped at Lynton, whichever route you choose. I want to go down to Lynmouth on the rack railway and walk up the combe.’ She paused. ‘I am hoping Judith will come with me. The views are breathtaking.’
Judith lifted her head, almost shocked. This bond withSybil Jessup took a leap. She spoke without thinking, ‘Yes. I would like that.’ She held her breath. Now Nathaniel would offer his escort service and the whole thing would be ruined.
But he didn’t, and Sven asked him to give the deciding vote, and after a lot of laughter from the two women, he opted for a trip to the city. Jennifer kissed Stanley lightly. ‘There will be time to see the old orangery before we leave,’ she promised. Margaret caught Judith’s uncomprehending gaze and rolled her eyes.
After dinner they broke up quickly. Stanley and Jennifer disappeared, and Sven roped in Nathaniel and Martin Morris to make a foursome for bridge. Sybil asked whether they would mind if she watched the ten o’clock news later on, and Nathaniel plumped up the sofa cushions and moved a coffee table within reach. Judith would have liked to have gone to her room and looked at the sketches she had made, in case there was something she could work on back home; already she was doubting the value of those three hours she had spent trying to absorb the ancient coastline and those pathetically defensive cliff-heads.
Sybil said, ‘Come and sit. Let the afternoon drain away a little. Don’t feel you have to do the Lynmouth trip with me, but I really do recommend it. I was hoping to take my sketchbook and get down a few impressions.’
Judith hovered in the lobby. Irena was coming and going and might want to talk if she went towards the stairs. She smiled at Sybil. ‘I doubt whether I can stay awake for the news, but
There it was; not quite respect, but a darned sight better than the scorn Irena reserved for her brother-in-law. If she knew that Judith was not a widow …
‘I did. Thank you.’
Nathaniel tasted his soup cautiously, then smiled. ‘I did not think I would like fish soup. Never had it before.’ He savoured another spoonful. ‘I slightly preferred the watercress last night, but this is delicious in quite a different way.’ Both his companions murmured agreement. He turned to Judith. ‘So my old neighbour inspired you to try your hand at a seascape?’
Judith smiled widely. ‘I suppose he did.’
She would have chuckled if she had not been enjoying the soup so much. It really was that simple, after all. One of hermother’s favourite adages had been ‘Never stew in your own juice’, closely followed by, ‘Keep those fingers busy, Jude!’ And she had been right, of course. Everything seemed to have stopped dead after that morning when Jack had told her he was leaving. For two long months her fingers had so often been idle, and she had stewed her own juice into a bitter brew. And now, this afternoon, she had tried her hand at a seascape. Her smile widened.
And then Sybil pushed her soup away and said quietly, ‘But Robert is painting for the end of the world. Surely that is what his work is about?’
Judith stopped smiling. This woman had seen exactly what she had seen. The agonizing poignancy of Hausmann’s work. Nothing was simple after all. She kept silent, head down, intent on her soup. Nathaniel laughed.
From the other table, Margaret Olsen called across, ‘We’re trying to agree on an outing tomorrow. Sven wants to stride across the moor – the sort of thing we do back home in Sweden. Jennifer and I want to go to Exeter and see the shops. Stanley – of course – will do what Jennifer does!’ She gave him an unbearably arch smile.
Nathaniel said, ‘I don’t mind. I have friends in Exeter. But I would like to see the moor. The weather forecast was good.’
Judith did not look up. She would drop out of any of the arrangements and go back to the Long Gallery. Unexpectedly Sybil spoke up.
‘I would like to be dropped at Lynton, whichever route you choose. I want to go down to Lynmouth on the rack railway and walk up the combe.’ She paused. ‘I am hoping Judith will come with me. The views are breathtaking.’
Judith lifted her head, almost shocked. This bond withSybil Jessup took a leap. She spoke without thinking, ‘Yes. I would like that.’ She held her breath. Now Nathaniel would offer his escort service and the whole thing would be ruined.
But he didn’t, and Sven asked him to give the deciding vote, and after a lot of laughter from the two women, he opted for a trip to the city. Jennifer kissed Stanley lightly. ‘There will be time to see the old orangery before we leave,’ she promised. Margaret caught Judith’s uncomprehending gaze and rolled her eyes.
After dinner they broke up quickly. Stanley and Jennifer disappeared, and Sven roped in Nathaniel and Martin Morris to make a foursome for bridge. Sybil asked whether they would mind if she watched the ten o’clock news later on, and Nathaniel plumped up the sofa cushions and moved a coffee table within reach. Judith would have liked to have gone to her room and looked at the sketches she had made, in case there was something she could work on back home; already she was doubting the value of those three hours she had spent trying to absorb the ancient coastline and those pathetically defensive cliff-heads.
Sybil said, ‘Come and sit. Let the afternoon drain away a little. Don’t feel you have to do the Lynmouth trip with me, but I really do recommend it. I was hoping to take my sketchbook and get down a few impressions.’
Judith hovered in the lobby. Irena was coming and going and might want to talk if she went towards the stairs. She smiled at Sybil. ‘I doubt whether I can stay awake for the news, but
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