This she did, but try as she might, Pepper could never get her grades back to where she wanted them, and by the end of that academic year, she was so disheartened that she gave up. On the rare occasions that she created art now, she always found it lacking, and each failure pushed her self-confidence down further. As far as Pepper was concerned, teaching the very basics was all she was good for, and so that was the level at which she stayed.
The grouting was finished now, so she set each block aside to dry, and sat for a while looking out towards the garden, at the colourful banks of flowers, the terracotta pots decorated in mosaic patterns, the neat little pond surrounded by painted stones, and the bird table she had constructed from driftwood washed up on Aldeburgh beach.
The urge to paint was needling her. It had been so long, yet perhaps, this time, she would achieve something special. If she didn’t give in, the compulsion would drive her to distraction – prevent her from sleeping.
Mind made up, Pepper got to her feet and moved quickly, her body making the decision before her head had time to interfere. Switching off the radio, she searched through the music on her phone until she found the Prodigy and, turning it up to its highest volume, plugged in her headphones, pressed play, and selected a blank tile from the stack beside the door. Snatching up her paints, she daubed on first green, then pinks, purples and creams. The frothy outline of the lilac flowers appeared within moments, and Pepper barely waited for the paint to settle before she changed brushes to add details to petal and leaf. Her heart raced as the music thundered to a crescendo in her ears, and all the while her hand moved seamlessly across the tile, daubing, tweaking, perfecting. It was so easy, so joyful, so uncomplicated – Pepper could feel her shoulders knotting with effort, yet she continued to work, so set on finishing what she had started that she failed to notice the light begin to fade beyond the windows.
Once she was satisfied, Pepper took a deep breath and switched off her music, closing her eyes briefly as vibrations of silence rushed into the void. Lifting the tile carefully so as not to disturb the paint, she carried it across from the table to the more solid work bench and set it down almost lovingly amongst the sawdust and curls of stripped wood. The delicate floral pattern was so lifelike that she could almost smell its sweet aroma.
Hearing a noise in the garden, she swung round to find Josephine making her slow way along the path, her hand raised in greeting. Pepper opened the door.
‘Hello, darling – there you are!’ Josephine beamed. ‘I knocked and knocked, then tried the door and found it open – I hope you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not,’ Pepper said, wondering why her friend hadn’t tried to call.
‘I’m afraid I forgot my mobile,’ Josephine explained, as if she read Pepper’s mind. ‘I would forget my arms and legs these days, if they weren’t attached – oh!’ she exclaimed, gazing down at the tile on the workbench. ‘How wonderful – did you just paint this?’
Pepper reddened.
‘It really is quite remarkable,’ Josephine appraised, bending over for a closer look.
Pepper leant over reluctantly until their noses were level, then her blood seemed to come to a halt in her veins. The breeze coming in through the open door had blown some of the stray chippings across the tile, smudging the wet paint in several places, and dust had adhered itself to the petals.
As Josephine continued to offer praise, Pepper gathered up a small key from a hook on the wall and made her way to the cab-inet in the far corner, unlocking a drawer and extracting the tool she needed. Before she had time to change her mind, she returned to the workbench and, in a single decisive motion, brought down her hammer and smashed the tile into tiny pieces.
Josephine recoiled.
‘Good God! What on earth did you do that for?’
Pepper shrugged, her eyes on the broken shards.
‘It was ruined,’ she said simply. ‘Worthless.’
‘Darling, it absolutely was not,’ Josephine assured her. ‘I thought it was beautiful.’
‘It wasn’t good enough,’ Pepper insisted firmly. ‘It was just a silly tile,’ she added, when Josephine looked as if she was going to protest further. ‘Forget about it.’
Scooping up the pieces, she tossed them into the bin.
‘Tea?’ she suggested brightly, reaching for the light switch, but Josephine shook her head. If Pepper didn’t know any better, she would have said her friend looked sheepish.
‘What’s up?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘With me? Oh, nothing, darling. I was just wondering if you’d given any thought to what we discussed at the pub?’
Pepper cast her mind once again to the book she had found, and to what Bethan would say if she were here. What would her sister make of the fact that she had never been abroad, simply because she was too scared, too anchored in Aldeburgh? She had thought that there were a hundred reasons not to go, but now she saw there was only really one – herself.
‘I have,’ she said, starting to smile. ‘And I think . . . Oh, sod it. I’m in. Let’s do it!’
Josephine clapped her hands together in delight. Pepper suspected that she would have jumped up and down on the spot if she were able.
‘I am so glad to hear you say that,’ she said, still looking slightly shamefaced. ‘Because I am afraid there is a small chance I may have already booked the two of us a flight that leaves next week.’
Chapter 7
The rain that greeted Pepper and Josephine as they emerged from central Lisbon’s Santa Apolónia train station began so rapidly, and fell with such insistency, that for the first few minutes, all they could do was stand and stare – watching in open-mouthed awe as the droplets pummelled the surrounding trees and drenched the canvas umbrellas propped open outside a café on the opposite side of the street.
There was that smell, too – the warm, metallic tang that sun-bleached paving stones give off when they have been doused in water. Steam seemed to rise from the ground beneath Pepper’s feet, as if the earth itself was sighing in contentment. She took it all in, her senses reeling and her mind whirling at the ludicrousness of her situation – of her being abroad for the first time, on a mission to retrace the steps of a love affair from the distant past. But while it might be bizarre, it was happening – she was here now, and she was determined to make the absolute most of every single moment.
She and Josephine waited until the downpour had slowed to a trickle before making their way to one of the waiting taxis, Pepper’s wheelie case making a pleasant clackety-clacking sound as she pulled it across the cobbled street. They told the driver where they were staying, then relaxed back against the cracked leather seats as he started the engine.
Pepper had fired up her ancient computer a few days ago and spent an enjoyable evening scrolling through images of the city, but it was a very different experience actually being here. Houses of all colours, from primrose yellow to faded pink and cool mint green, sat shoulder-to-shoulder along curved narrow streets, each one leaning against the next like packed-in concertgoers at a sold-out gig. Pepper tilted her gaze upwards as they drove and saw toothy grins where there were balconies, and dark eyes where painted shutters had been pulled together behind tall, elegant windows.