Swimming Pool Sunday by Sophie Kinsella, Madeleine Wickham Page B

obvious that she was not going to sit up again, he looked away. For Christ’s sake, what was he doing, staring at a child like that? She couldn’t be more than eighteen. Less than half his age, he realized, with a sobering thud, and he deliberately closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
    A few moments later, he heard a cool attractive American voice beside him.
    ‘So this is how the esteemed lawyer prepares his cases. Lying flat out in the sun.’ Alexis opened one eye and grinned.
    ‘So this is how the great artist composes her canvases,’ he parried. Meredith shrugged, pulled up a deck-chair, and sat down.
    ‘This is work,’ she said. She smiled conspiratorially at him, and her eyes gave a tiny challenging glint. ‘We all have to take inspiration from somewhere,’ she elaborated.
    ‘Aha! Yes.’ Alexis shifted on his chair, and regarded Meredith quizzically. ‘Inspiration. So should I expect to see Man sleeping by swimming pool in your next collection? And will I recognize myself?’ Meredith grinned.
    ‘I shouldn’t think so. But you never know, you might get into one of Ursula’s water-colours.’
    ‘Of course.’ They both involuntarily looked towards the terrace, where Ursula stood happily, an old paint-stained smock of Meredith’s over her bathing-suit, gazing at the scene before her, with brush in hand. Tell me,’ Alexis added casually, ‘how is Ursula’s painting going?’ Meredith looked away.
    ‘She paints a lot,’ she said distantly.
    ‘And, no doubt, she’s improving as she goes,’ suggested Alexis gravely. Meredith bit her lip.‘Something like that.’ There was a short pause, then suddenly Meredith emitted a strange snuffle that sounded a bit like a laugh. Alexis looked at her in mock-surprise.
    ‘Something wrong?’ Meredith shook her head and clutched her mouth. Her shoulders shook.
    ‘She’s terrible!’ she whispered suddenly, and gave a half-suppressed, half-hysterical giggle. She leaned closer to Alexis. ‘I can’t tell you how bad she is! I thought she’d get better; I even encouraged her, but …’
    Alexis began to chuckle.
    ‘And the thing is,’ Meredith continued, wiping her mirth-filled eyes, ‘everybody in Melbrook thinks she’s a fucking genius! She’s even had a show!’ She began to shake again. ‘And I bought the first picture!’
    Suddenly she sat up. ‘And where were you at the show?’ she demanded. ‘We sent you an invitation.’
    ‘I know you did,’ agreed Alexis. ‘I was working, I’m afraid.’
    ‘You work too hard,’ said Meredith accusingly. ‘We never see you.’ She pushed back her long dark hair, and a pair of green eyes shone at him out of a tanned vibrant face. ‘I thought country lawyers were supposed to take every afternoon off to play golf.’
    ‘They do,’ said Alexis. ‘Unfortunately I don’t play golf.’ Then his expression changed and he sighed. ‘You’re right, I don’t come over here enough. I should do, it’s really not very far. But then, you know, these days I don’t really seem to do anything enough.’
    He seemed about to elaborate, and Meredith leaned forward interestedly. But suddenly Ursula’s voice broke in from behind.
    ‘Oh, Meredith dear,’ she said. ‘My painting’s going so well today! You must come and have a look. And, look, it’s Alexis! When did you get here? Hugh never said.’
    ‘Ursula!’ Alexis stood up, an elegant man with a slim figure which belied his greying temples and slightlyhooded eyes. ‘It’s lovely to see you. Now let me come and look at this painting. Meredith, you can give us your expert opinion.’
    He linked arms with each of the women, giving Meredith a little conspiratorial squeeze. And as he did so, and as they began walking together towards Ursula’s easel, bare arm linked with bare arm, bare leg brushing against bare leg, Meredith felt her stomach leap, and her cheeks pinken and, in spite of herself, her heart begin to beat just a little more