Charlie’s eyes filled with concern. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘Of course I like it! It’s beautiful. I love it … but …’ Still at a loss for an appropriate response and fighting tears, she sought refuge in practicalities. ‘But where would I keep it? I don’t have a wall in my house big enough. And my contents insurance won’t cover it, especially if it’s within Dylan’s reach. He’s often armed with crayons and you know he’s not afraid to use them. What if something happened to it?’
‘You could keep it in my studio. There’s tonnes of room and you could come and see it whenever you liked.’
Becky looked up at the ceiling and sighed. ‘And if I don’t want it? Will you sell it then?’
A small crease appeared between his eyebrows. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I guess, if you don’t want it, I’ll scrap it.’
‘You wouldn’t!’
Charlie turned towards the painting. ‘I don’t know. Maybe not. But, it’s yours. If you want it.’
He glanced at her, then back to the painting. He was wearing the same hangdog expression Becky had first seen back in June. The lost and lonely look she had hoped never to see again. And she certainly never wanted to be its cause.
Her chair shook as Charlie lifted his right foot onto his left knee. He jiggled it in its new resting place for a few seconds then rejected the position, returning the foot to the floor with a graceless thud which made him wince.
Becky’s lips twitched. Observing his adorable unease she couldn’t believe she’d considered knocking Ronnie over and bolting. Well, Ronnie probably had it coming, but how could she have thought about running away from him again?
She cleared her throat and Charlie straightened, his fidgeting coming to an abrupt end. ‘And if I were to keep it …’ She smiled, thinking of the title Charlie had given the picture. ‘The painting, of course. What would you want in return?’
‘It’s a gift.’
‘Oh come on! You can’t let me have something so valuable for nothing.’
‘Well, if you insist …’
‘I do.’
‘Then I think …’ He trailed off as he lifted his hand to brush her hair from her shoulder, his fingers skimming the side of her neck. She watched the movement, marvelling at how quickly her pulse reacted, thudding as if he were sliding a knife along her skin rather than his fingertips. When his hand reached the back of her neck he paused, lifting his gaze slowly until their eyes met. ‘Then I believe in the past you’ve included dinner as part of a bargain.’
Charlie was watching her over the top of his glasses, no frown in sight. His fingers were now stroking the top of her collarbone and it was becoming difficult to think of anything, let alone frame a question.
‘Are you asking me out, Charlie?’
‘It would appear so.’
She pressed her lips together to prevent a smile escaping, extended her index finger and pushed the bridge of his glasses back to the top of his nose. He didn’t flinch, although when he blinked she saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes, then amusement. The smile she’d been suppressing escaped. She had wanted to do that for months, pretty much every time she’d seen him in glasses.
Now unsure of what to do with her hands, she gripped the sides of the chair, pushing her palms against the metal struts until her fingers turned white. ‘Do I get to decide where and when?’
‘I think I can live with that.’
‘Then you’re on.’
Bargain made, they shuffled back to the middle of their chairs and faced forward; two strangers back to waiting for their trains. Becky fiddled with the straps on her shoes while Charlie tapped his fingers on his knees and hummed a familiar tune. She let her gaze drift beyond the brightly lit wall immediately in front of them. Staring into the gloom at the back of the gallery, she noticed the canvas sporting the frustrated red line staring right back at her. Enough. It was time to complete what Charlie had started.
She put a hand on top of his, bringing the tapping and humming to a stop. ‘What about now?’
‘Huh?’
She stood up and spun round to face him, making the skirt of her dress fan out and swirl around her legs. ‘Dinner. Now. There’s a French place near Tyler’s that stays open late. And I think they may have after-dinner dancing.’ She held out her hand. ‘So, are you hungry?’
Charlie got to his feet. He watched Becky’s beautiful blue eyes glittering silver under the cool spotlights. His stomach bulged from his late lunch and nervous snacking. The last thing he needed was more food.
‘Absolutely starving,’ he said, smiling and taking her hand.
AUGUST
Becky and Dylan stood on the bridge looking down at their reflections in the water below. The little boy gripped the green metal rail and bounced on his toes as a dragonfly buzzed past, dipping to skim the surface of the pool. He was eager to run through the rest of the garden. There was so much space to explore. But they had to wait until they were told they could move. They didn’t want to ruin the picture.
Phoebe stepped onto the bridge to give the all-clear. Becky loosened her grip on Dylan’s hand and he sped away from her, giggling. Phoebe ran after him, falling into the familiar game.
Charlie had suggested making the trip in May to see the glory of the wisteria, but Becky didn’t see the point in going if the water lilies wouldn’t be in bloom. Besides, by making the trip in the summer, Phoebe would have finished her exams and could enjoy the holiday before getting back to London for her internship.
Becky rested her arms on the side of the bridge and closed her eyes. Dylan’s and Phoebe’s laughter tripped over the rising hush of the dusk and she heard boards creak as the space next to her was taken.
When she opened her eyes, Charlie was busy putting the lens cap back on the camera. He glanced up over the top of his glasses and caught her watching him. Putting his arm around her waist, he leant to kiss her cheek. She smiled. Pulling away, she took his hand and led him in the direction of their children.
They stepped off the bridge together. Charlie put his left arm around Becky’s shoulders and dropped his head to kiss her hair. Now he woke every morning to find her next to him, Charlie never needed to dream of his muse again.
As they followed the laughter deeper into the garden, the setting sun sent a last warm breath over the garden, tinting the light a gentle pink.