Love by Beth Boyd Page A

’d gone. He’d not mentioned any trips and at first she thought he must have just gone somewhere locally. But then she noticed that there were no lights at his house when she looked out from her bedroom window, as she did every night before she went to sleep. The mystery was solved the next day when she dropped in at the village shop and Sandy, who knew everything about everyone in Trelawney Cove, informed her that Adam had gone up to London.
    “ He’s famous, you know. Travels all over the world then writes about it. I’m always asking him when he’s going to write about the Cove. We could do with some more tourists.”
    “ I don’t think he’s that sort of travel writer,” said Karen.
    Sandy looked disappointed, “I expect it’s all much the same. Anyway, he’s gone up to London, quite suddenly really. He just stopped in on his way out yesterday morning and cancelled his papers.”
    ‘ did he say when he was coming back?” asked Karen. “Only he leant me a torch and I wanted to return it.” She decided against mentioning the coat as Sandy would wonder how on earth she had come to borrow it and she didn’t want to be married off by the local gossips
    “ No dear, he didn’t,” sighed Sandy. “But he’s always back and forth. So who knows when he’ll be back again?”
    So much for keeping him at arm ’s length thought Karen as she resolved to get on with her painting and not waste time thinking about men. Her only outings would be the statutory dog walk. She would put Adam out of her thoughts completely and concentrate on what was important in her life - her art work.
     
    By Saturday Karen was feeling quite pleased with herself. She found some old photos of her family in one of her grandmother’s dresser drawers. She picked out one of the whole family on the beach. She must have been about two or three, her sister Amanda, five and her brother James, seven. Her parents looked so much younger and more relaxed as she and her brother and sister built sandcastles and moats. James looked very serious with his glasses and his pot belly, Karen laughed to herself when she saw the photo. Her grandparents also looked happy as they sat under the big beach umbrella with her parents.
    Her grandfather had been a rather quiet man, especially in comparison to her grandmother who was still the life and soul of the party. Her grandfather died when Karen was only ten and so her memory of him was hazy. He left Gran well-provided for and able to go back to her first love - painting. Not that her grandmother hadn’t been happy with her married life. She had been happy as a wife and mother to listen to her talk about it. But Karen never understood why her grandmother stopped painting for so long when she obviously loved it so.
    When Nick called Karen at teatime to remind her about their date for that evening she was busy blocking in her family portrait and felt quite reluctant to tear herself away from the studio. She dragged herself away from her painting and went upstairs to look through her clothes for something suitable for an opening night.
    She found a long black jersey dress that she had brought just in case, not that she had really expected to wear it but her mother always said it was best to be prepared for every eventuality. Luckily it was not too formal but cut very simply with a low scoop neck, long narrow sleeves and the soft fabric clung flatteringly to her slim waist and hips. She d ecided on a pair of black ballet shoes to complete the outfit instead of her usual boots. She preferred heels but remembered that Nick was not much taller than her and didn’t want to tower over him. She brushed out her shoulder-length hair to a high shine and as a concession to the spirit of an opening evening put on some of her new pinky-brown lipstick. She didn’t normally wear much make-up. Her naturally clear complexion meant she didn’t the need powder or foundation and her arched eyebrows and thick black lashes saved a