Lizzie

After the five songs had ended, she went into the kitchen. She didn't feel like cooking, and she didn't want to go to the pub either, so she inspected her freezer. Oh good, there was a portion of lasagne left from a few days before her walking trip. She stuck it into the microwave and went back into the living room while her meal was heating up. She played two tracks again before the microwave beeped and she switched the music off to go to the kitchen and have her meal.

She had another glass of wine with her lasagne, and afterwards she made a cup of tea, and she went to bed with the tea and a book. She loved reading like that, propped up against the pillows and sipping her tea slowly. When she had finished her tea she prepared for the night and turned off the light.

She fell asleep almost at once, and she dreamt of her walk, and of the people she'd met although they seemed to be a lot different than she remembered, and they didn't have any names. She somehow got a couple of pictures in her head during her dream. One was the painting of the pub, with a few details she had forgotten, and the other was a picture of Dan's barn, with a man in dark clothes standing in the doorway talking to some visitor or other.

Sleep was always a good time for her; she had done a lot of her studies visualising things in her sleep and getting the hang of them that way. Insights seemed to come when asleep, and present themselves in vivid images she would never forget.

She woke early. The rain was rattling against the windows and the day started with too little light for her to do any work, so she went to the village shop instead. She met Charles and Joe there, deep in conversation. It appeared the police had apprehended the fellow who'd broken into Charles's home; they said it was a junk who had committed a lot of petty crimes and who was entirely unable to ever repay any of the damage he'd done.

"Pity," Charles said. "If he could, I could pay you for the mandolin."

"Charles, don't you ever dare even think of it! The mandolin is a present. Zeb would not like me to sell the thing, I'm sure!"

Charles nodded. "Well," he said, "the bloke isn't going to pay for the damage done anyway. And you know how much I love that instrument!"

He smiled at her, and Lizzie and Joe nodded. "I do," she said. "Bloody weather, innit? There's just too little light for me to get any work done - I never work with artificial light. You can't get your colours right. Oh well, it hopefully won't last all day."

"Dunno," Joe said. "The forecast isn't too favourable. But they expect things to change to reasonable tonight."

"I do hope so. Hmmm. Well, I'll go and do some shopping and make the best of it. See you!"

The men nodded at her and continued their conversation while Lizzie went down the aisles. She knew the outlay of the shop well enough so it didn't take her too long, and she was home again within half an hour. She put her shopping away and made herself a big mug of coffee. The rain was streaming down the kitchen window and the light was so low she had to have the lights on, even though the kitchen window was large enough. She made a face. It was annoying to have to stall work on her project. Oh well, she could at least make a sketch of the barn picture from her dream.

She went into the studio and turned on the lights. Then she put a clean sheet of paper on the drawing board and sat down at it. First she closed her eyes to do some introspection and evoke the image she'd formed. Yes, here it was. She picked up a pencil and started sketching. The image grew under her fingers and when she was ready she looked at it with interest. It was definitely a good picture. She thought it might come in useful sometimes; anyway she would go and finish it with the pictures she had to do for Kev. But not today, alas. The day grew even murkier if possible. She put the paper into the portfolio and gave up.

She spent the remainder of the day playing music and reading until it was time to prepare dinner. After dinner she worked on some ideas for a four-part rendition of the Prickly Bush. She wasn't too certain about her ideas - she would have to try them out with Joe and Ellen.

She stood in the door for a moment to listen to the rain. It seemed to be less heavy than it had been in the morning. Maybe the weather people were right. She did hope so!

She played another record over a little brandy with a lot of water, and then she turned in. At least the day had not been completely wasted, she thought. Now wouldn't it be nice if she could just lie and cuddle up to Zeb? She shook her head. It was no use thinking those thoughts; better try and go to sleep.

She woke up rested to find the rain had stopped. It wasn't exactly bright outside, but light enough for her to go to work. So, after a quick breakfast and shower she set to work. Finally! She spent the next ten days working furiously; then she took a break and she went over to Joe and Ellen to have a go at the four part arrangement she'd made.

Ellen had a good voice but she never sang with the boys. She didn't mind helping out, though, and they had quite a good time trying out the third and second voice. Then Joe played the melody on guitar and they all sang one of the other voices. To Lizzie's delight she didn't have to change anything. Ellen, who had a keen ear for harmonies, applauded the arrangement.

"Brilliant," she said. "Now you must try and find two more singers."

"Yes, I know - I will have to finish my new series of paintings first, though. I am just happy it works." She smiled at her friends. "Thank you for helping out!"

"Will you write things down?" Ellen wanted to know.

"Er, no - at least not really. Just the main idea. Once I've heard it, I know. I'd love to have someone write it out for me... Zeb would. But I cannot do it."

She shook her head. "Seems I start missing him again. I thought I was over it, and the walk was no problem. But now..." She looked into her teacup. "I suppose it's one of these phases. I'd better go home and do some work, to get my thoughts on to different things."

It did help, and she returned to her usual emotional state. She thought there would be three more days to finish everything, and then she could do the oil painting and the watercolour of Dan's barn. She smiled at the prospect. Both paintings were really nice to do, and no one but she herself had any say in the matter. Great!

She was even a little faster than she'd expected, and she finished her illustrations on the morning of the third day. She carefully put the final one up to dry, made herself a light lunch and wheeled her easel back into the centre of the studio.

First she sat down in front of it, looking it over and deciding on how to continue. She closed her eyes for a while to try and remember the initial joy and surprise, so that she could put them into the picture.

She thought she was on the right track, and then she attacked the oil painting with vim. She saw it grow and the colours were glowing on the canvas, just the way she remembered that morning.

It took her another four days. By dusk on the third day it was almost done. If she started early the next day she would be able to finish it altogether. She hoped Geoff would like it as much as she did. She thought he might.

The painting was ready by three, and she took ten minutes off to have a drink. Then she cleaned up and made the studio presentable. Now what to do?

She thought about it for a couple of minutes and then she decided it would be best to go to Kevin first, and deliver the illustrations to the office, and then she could finish the barn and contact Dan about the little cupboard. She was looking forward to seeing him again.

She found Kevin's landline number and called him to ask if he would be free to receive the work.

"You are ready? Brilliant! Brilliant! I will try and arrange a meeting with the author again for you. If that's alright, I will call you in an hour or so. Okay?"

"Yes. Is he nice?"

"He is a teeny weeny bit shy, I think - but yes, he is such a sweet, shy young man - and very handsome. Very."

Kevin warmed to the subject and positively gushed over him, which made Lizzie smile broadly. Dear old Kev!

"So I'd like the two of you to meet," he concluded. "Give me an hour, right?"

Lizzie agreed and rang off. She went back into the studio and pinned the barn on the drawing board. She sat looking at it for quite some time, deciding on the best colours and materials, and when she was happy about it in her mind the phone rang.

Kevin told her the writer would not be there. It appeared he was something of a recluse. But if she was prepared to come the next day she could say hi to Jane Carlton, who would come to discuss a new book. Would that be alright instead? Lizzie told him she'd met Jane again on her walk, and that she was looking forward to meeting her indeed. She was. Jane was a good sort, just the person to spend some quality time with.

So that left her with another morning for her barn pic, and then a nice afternoon. She wondered if Jane would be traveling up and down, and then she decided to call her and offer her to stay the night at her place.

Jane jumped to the suggestion. She would be very happy to have time enough together, she said. Lizzie smiled; she'd expected she would. So what now? No time for painting as it was almost too dark, and she didn't feel like cooking - she didn't feel like having dinner at all. Some wine, crackers and cheese would do nicely, and some music. She got out the food and some CDs and settled in an easy chair in the living room. First she played the Night Visiting Song from John McCusker's Yella Hoose. Then she put Mary Chapin Carpenter into the machine, and sat back listening to Between Here and Gone, enjoying the gentle music and the lyrics. The first song was beyond her ken, but she saw where it came from easily enough.

There were a lot of these singing girls, she thought - it must be great to be able to put your feelings into a song. But then, she could express them in paint, and that was something too. She pulled her legs up under her bottom, and took a sip of the wine. Mmmm, she was looking forward to having Jane around. One of the nicest persons she could think of. Dan fell in the same top category, she thought. Someone who really loved language and seemed to find a way of dealing with things in poetry. She wondered if he wrote any as well. If he did, he hadn't let on. She thought he probably kept that kind of thing to himself out of modesty, or common decency or something - he didn't seem to be the self-advertising kind. He was a good listener. She saw his grin in her inner eye, and grinned back at the memory.

After Jane's visit she would contact him and pick up her cupboard at his place. It would be exciting to find what Geoff thought of her picture; but it would be even nicer to talk to Dan a little more. She somehow had an appetite now, and when the song she was listening to had ended she put the player on pause and went into the kitchen for some more. She compared her kitchen to Dan's while she was getting her cheese from the fridge. The barn, for all its venerable age, looked much more modern than her house, which was a bit of a strange structure, with a lot of levels. The studio and the kitchen were the lowest rooms, then there were eight steps to the living room and the study, and another eight to the bedrooms. She was entirely used to the setup, but people who were new to it thought it was a truly weird arrangement. All due to the lay of the land, of course. Anyway, it was her place, and she had always loved living in it. She went back to the living room and finished the album and her food. Then she went to bed, tired and happy she would meet Jane the next day.

Sleep somehow wouldn't come. Zeb was on her mind, and she realised that she was feeling very lonely all of a sudden. She wished they there together, with his arms around her shoulders, cuddling up to her. It was a good thirteen years now since she'd last felt his lips on hers... She'd not felt any need for a long time, but after some ten years there were these moments when she yearned for some warmth. She didn't allow herself to give in to those feelings - and yet... There were no men in her her life. Joe and Charles and the rest of them were all very nice. But they weren't hers; they were either married or much too old, and none of them were at all like Zeb. She couldn't envisage herself in a relationship with them. The idea seemed so ludicrous that she burst out laughing.

Better count her blessings - which is what she did. It helped, and she drifted off to sleep while she was at it.

When she woke up she felt happy and rested. She had a quick breakfast and tackled the barn after that. It progressed nicely and she finished it before twelve. When she gave it a final look-over before cleaning her stuff she realised that the man looked a little like Dan in his posture. She grinned. After all, he belonged there. Good.

She had an apple and a glass of milk for lunch, put her portfolio and the oil painting into the car and drove to town. Kevin must have seen her coming because he had already opened the door before she could ring.

"Hi there, darling," he said. "Good to see you! You look as brilliant as ever! Jane isn't here yet. Too much traffic out on the motorway. She said there was some horrible trouble with a lorry. Those thing are far too ugly anyway - I just can't understand how anyone could want to drive such a monstrosity. The idea gives me the shivers."

"Okay. But she is coming?"

"She is coming alright. She is on her way and must be here soon."

"Right. Oh, good. Look, Kev, there is something I'd like to ask you. You do some art dealing, after all. I was asked to make a painting of a pub I visited on the way, and I've finished it now. Could you have a look and tell me how much I should ask?"

"Happily, sweetheart. Why don't we get it upstairs?"

The paper wrapped picture wasn't too heavy, just wood and canvas, and Kevin carried it up without Lizzie's help. She unwrapped it, and Kevin looked at it critically.

"Oh my, Liz," he said. "You never told me you were that good in oils! Fantastic. I'd absolutely love to buy it - you do have to sell it to me!"

"Sorry, Kev - it was commissioned, and I promised to paint it. So I think I will have to take it to Geoff, the publican. He has a collection of the most awful watercolours and drawings you could imagine."

Kev shuddered - a little theatrically, Lizzie thought with a grin. "Okay. Fair enough. Mmm. Let me put it up on the table. Yes, like this." He stood looking at it for some time. Then he said, "you should at least ask £2000, you know. No. No, do make that three."

"Oh my. Isn't that far too much?"

"No it isn't. If it were in my portfolio, I would ask more. You don't have a gallery to run, though."

Lizzie nodded slowly. "Thank you," she said. "I really have no idea."

She rewrapped the painting and stood it aside.

"Can we have a look at what you did this time?"

Kevin put the portfolio on the table and went through the lot slowly. Lizzie knew by now that he never commented until he had seen the bunch; she also knew that it was a good sign when he went through the lot twice, once quickly, and then slowly, paying attention to detail, as he did now.

"Okay," he said finally. "As good as ever."

As he was saying so the office bell rang, and Kevin went to the door to welcome Jane.

She greeted the two of them enthusiastically. "Hi guys," she said. "My, the traffic on the motorway is awful! There was a lorry on its side, and the road was full of cans of chicken soup. It cost me about an hour! Anyway, here I am. How's life?"

The others smiled at her. The last time Lizzie and she had met at Kevin's office, there had been a diffidence about her that was missing now that she knew herself among friends.

"I have a new book ready, you know - Kevin will want to have his editor go through it first, but he said he liked the outline. I have it on me; I don't trust the Internet for this. It's another children's book, and I was hoping you'd take care of the pictures."

"I'd love to. Very nice! Thank for trusting me!"

The two women grinned at each other. "Okay," Jane said. "Kevin, can we discuss things now?"

Kevin nodded and the two of them went downstairs to his office, and Lizzie had a long last look at her work. She wondered if she would enjoy the end result as much as she did the one she'd done with Jane.

After about an hour she heard Jane and Kevin mount the stairs again.

"That's arranged then!" Jane said. "You will work out some ideas first, won't you?"

"Of course," Kevin said. "I certainly will! I can do so now, or I can email you about my ideas, Jane. What do you say?"

"I prefer you to take your time," Jane said. "I hope the book will be as big a success as the other one."

"I'll do my best. Alright then. How about an early dinner, girls?"

The girls grinned. Kevin was about fifteen years their junior.

"Please," Jane said. "Sounds like a plan."

"Here we go then!"

They went on foot, with Kevin arm in arm with both women. "That's lovely," he said, "walking with two beauties on my arm. Er, girls?"

They had a nice meal in a small restaurant with a great kitchen. Lizzie had never been there because she found it a sight too expensive. Kevin didn't care, though. He loved the place and he thought it was only a slight part of the costs of running his firm, and he loved having dinner with these nice, independent old girls. They had some fruit juice; they had to drive back, after all. Kevin had some wine from a bottle that looked expensive. It was expensive, Lizzie thought. Oh well, he was good company and he knew about art and loved it, both books and paintings.

They finished their meal at six thirty and the two women went to their cars.

"Shall I go in front? It is a little hard to find," Lizzie said. "I promise not to drive too fast."

"Good, thank you. I'll follow."

The women got into their cars and drove off. It usually took Lizzie about forty-five minutes to reach home along the winding country lanes. The village was a real maze for foreigners, and somehow some satnavs made you end up in the wrong place altogether. Lizzie's lane wound up from the village proper and then climbed the hill to disappear over the crest and go down into a shallow dip in the next valley. Driving with someone following her it took almost an hour.

Jane had a small car and so there was just enough room to park in the drive for the two of them. Lizzie got out and welcomed Jane to her place. She showed her to the spare bedroom, and they put Jane's bag in there. Then they went downstairs.

"I'll have to take my painting from the car," Lizzie said. "One moment, please!"

She went outside and carried the parcel back in.

"I'll put it in the studio," she said. "Would you care to have a look?"

Jane did. She looked around the studio with interest.

"You have a nice place to work in," she said. "So what is this picture?"

Lizzie took off the paper and showed her.

"Oh my," Jane said. "I know that place! I drive past it sometimes. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Lizzie nodded. She explained how she'd come to paint it, and she told Jane about the music night she'd spent in the pub.

"Okay. So what about this Dan? He sounds like a nice guy."

"He is. An old friend of my late husband's. He lectures in English. I drew his place, too."

She showed June the picture that was still tacked to the drawing board.

"Ooh, nice! This is you, isn't it? And that must be Dan, then?"

"Me? I didn't plan it that way."

Lizzie looked at it critically.

"Oh my, yes - the figure does look like me. The other one has Dan's posture, yes."