Lizzie

She shook her head. "Most people I know have stopped using sugar for ages. I don't like it at all any more. So what have you been doing these weeks?"

"Teaching, reading... Playing those songs I sent you and doing a lot of thinking. I wrote a couple of poems... Pretty much the usual. I went for dinner with a colleague, and bought some music, and played the guitar quite a lot. And you?"

Lizzie considered. "Well, I was painting most of the time. When I have a commission it usually takes shape in my head first - I often dream what the pictures are supposed to look like - and once I know what I want I just have to go and do it, or l won't get it right. I painted the pub, and I did some singing at our local, and I did a lot of reading in the evenings."

"Okay. Read anything worthwhile?"

"Yes. I rather liked The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher. Funny and wicked." She smiled at the thought. "Oh, and I bought some records at a record fair. Some old ones I hadn't heard for ages."

Dan smiled, and poured the tea. He took the mugs to the table and sat down himself. "And you arranged the Prickly Bush," he said. "Would you mind if we practise it once or twice before tonight?"

"No," she said. "Seems a good idea. I made a four-part arrangement as well, but I haven't performed it yet."

"Really? Wow. Did you write it down?"

Lizzie shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm no good at that kind of thing. Zeb knew how to... Besides, I wouldn't want it to fall into the hands of a group of 32 ten-year-olds butchering it with a piano and three wobbly recorders."

Dan chuckled. "Okay. No, that would be dreadful. Better reserve it for decent purposes. How was the tail end of your walk?"

Lizzie told him about the last day, and how she had spent the evening at the Thompsons. It had been a good day, she said, quiet and uneventful, and just pleasant. She smiled at the memory, and she wondered briefly if they'd really had their picture framed. Then she put down her mug.

"What about dinner tonight? Can I buy you a meal at the pub?"

"That would be nice," Dan said. "We could also have a meal here before we go."

"I will have to spent some time flogging my picture to Geoff," Lizzie said. "I have no idea how long that will take, you see. Otherwise I would love to stay here."

"Okay? So it isn't certain he will buy it?"

"I don't know if he will like it. If he doesn't, Kevin, the man I work for, would like to have it. He had a look."

"Okay. Can I see it?"

"Of course. Shall I get it out of the car?"

"Yes please!"

Lizzie went outside to collect the painting. She returned with the package and put it on a sideboard. "It's just the canvas on a frame," she said. "The new owner will have to have it framed the way he likes."

Then she took off the wrapping. Dan looked at the picture and whistled. It was beautiful! The canvas was a flash of colour, not too loud, but just exactly right. He thought you could feel the warmth and the love of painting Lizzie had put into it, and the pub sat in the picture as though it had always done so.

"My word," he said. "If Geoff doesn't fall for this in a big way, he can't have a heart. If he doesn't want it, I'll gladly buy it from you as well!"

Lizzie blushed. "Thank you, Dan," she said. "I'd rather not sell it to Kevin somehow. But I hope it will end up in the pub."

"Of course. It should. Thank you for showing me!"

Lizzie wrapped it up again and took it back to the car, while Dan went and picked up his guitar.

"Let's sing, right?" he said when Lizzie came back into the kitchen.

"Yes, please. I will join after the first verse, okay?"

"Good."

Dan played a short intro and then he started to sing. After the first verse Lizzie chimed in with her harmony vocals. Dan heard and understood. It was brilliant. He played the song right through and then he put down his guitar and applauded, to Lizzie's delight.

"Did you and Zeb do this a lot?"

"Rather. We frequently tried changing arrangements and stuff. He liked me to come up with ideas, and we tried them out in the pub, or with friends." She smiled at the memory and fell silent while she thought of all the fun they had had making music together. Then she looked at Dan. "Alright?"

"Yes indeed. Just like Zeb, actually." He grinned. "So when would you like to go over to the pub?"

"When does the folk night start?"

"At eight - I'd like to speak to Bill before, to say we will be doing your thing."

"Okay. Maybe half six?"

"Right. Good idea. So we will have some time together first. There is some more tea in that pot. Would you like some?"

Lizzie had some more tea, and she told Dan about Jane Carlton's visit.

"It seems you were having a good time," he said. "I read one of her books once; she is good. She takes her audience seriously. I'd love to see your studio, by the way. Do you do open days, perhaps?"

"Not on your nelly! But you're welcome any time, as a good friend. Oh no - open days. Having all kinds of unknown people making judicial remarks about the way I work, or the size or furnishing of my studio? Awful!"

"Mmm, no. It doesn't sound like a good idea. I wouldn't want any people around here either. But I'd love to come and have a look when I'm in the neighbourhood."

Lizzie nodded. "I hope I will be alright with Geoff," she said. "I always find this sort of thing a little embarrassing. Like putting your soul up for inspection or something. I'll be glad when it is all over and we can listen to the music instead." She thought for a moment and then she asked, "Can I see some of the poetry you wrote?"

"Er, yes. I hope you can decipher my scrawls, though. I will have to type them as yet."

He got up and went to the study. There were a couple of them lying on the desk. One or two were rather gloomy, and he didn't want to show her those, but there were a few nature poems that he really liked. He quickly found the few he wanted. He seldom told anyone, let alone showed them - but then, Lizzie was a damn nice girl. Moreover, she had shown him her sketchbook without any qualms.

He took the sheets to the kitchen and handed them to her. "These are alright, I hope," he said.

"Thank you."

Lizzie started to read the poems. She read them slowly and carefully, and she very much enjoyed what she read. When she had finished them all, she read two of them again. Eventually she put the sheets on the table.

"You know," she said, "it is as if I could sit down and paint what you have written. They are very beautifully evocative. Lovely writing!"

Dan blushed with pleasure. It was a rather unusual thing for him to do. He hadn't thought Lizzie would laugh at them, but her praise was welcome and completely unexpected.

"Thank you very much," he said. "Mmm, ample time before we have to go. Would you care for a drink? I'll drive tonight if you don't mind. The roads are difficult at night if you don't know your way."

"Yes please. Have you got any cider?"

Dan nodded. He had remembered, and bought some. "Dry, right?"

"Yes, please."

He went through a door at the far end of the kitchen, and he returned with the drinks shortly.

"That's my cellar," he said. "If you like I can take you around the house tomorrow. It's getting too dark now to get a good impression."

"I would love that," Lizzie said. "It is a great place!"

Dan poured her a glass of cider. "I'll have some Becks - I will have a bitter with my meal later on."

They smiled at each other. "It's lovely sitting here talking with you," she said. "I feel quite at home somehow."

Dan grinned. "It is," he said. "Would you like to have a look at some old photographs of Zeb?"

Lizzie's eyes lit up. "Oh yes," she said. "Please!"

"One moment!"

Dan disappeared into the living-room and came back with the album. "Here you are," he said.

Lizzie took the album from him, and opened it. She saw a photograph of Zeb straight away. He was sitting on a low wall, smoking a cigarette and looking into the distance. She wondered where it had been taken, and she said, "Look, could you sit next to me? Then I can point things out and ask things."

Dan nodded, and rounded the kitchen table. He sat next to her. "I'll happily tell you what I can remember," he said. "I may not have an answer to every question."

"No, that's alright. Where was this taken?" She pointed at the seated image of her late husband.

"Oh, well, that was in the Yorkshire Dales, on our way to the Sun Inn. Walking, you know - and taking a break."

"Okay." Lizzie slowly went through the album, enjoying the pictures. Dan was in them quite often. He had been a very handsome young man, she thought. Actually, he was handsome still. She was about halfway when she came across pictures of the young men playing in a pub, together with a violin player.

"Oh look. Is that the fellow who plays the violin on the CD?"

"Er, no. Johnny Dickson played on that. We played with all sorts of people. Johnny was one of the best." Dan shook his head. "He went and got himself addicted and he died of aids. Dirty needles, you know. What a waste. You'll come across a picture of him later, I think."

"The two of you never tried?"

"Nothing more awful than a joint once or twice. We didn't really enjoy it, you know. And we both took our studies too seriously to waste our time on drugs. I don't know. I like doing lots of things but losing my faculties isn't one of them."

"Getting drunk?"

"No thank you. I got drunk once, by accident, because the food we were trying to prepare took too long. Horrible. I do like a drink, but just one or two."

Lizzie nodded. "I got drunk the night Zeb had died. And I think I got tipsy once or twice. But that's about it." She turned another page. "I love seeing these."

"Good! Look, this is Johnny."

Lizzie saw a thin, bearded young man with a friendly smile and a lot of long, wild hair.

"He still was clean then. He studied something in the field of nuclear fission, I think. But a year after this picture was taken he was a complete wreck."

"What a pity. Oh dear."

Dan went on explaining about various pictures. Lizzie sat smiling most of the time, looking at the old images of Zeb and Dan, and wondering about the way in which time passes slowly but inexorably. Zeb was dead, and the young man that had been Dan was a middle-aged man of some standing at university. He had aged well, she thought. He had a nice, handsome face, and a mild, courteous manner that she really liked. The poems he had shown her were brilliant, she thought, but he was quite diffident about them. She smile at herself. She was exactly the same about her paintings.

When she had finished the album she closed it with a sigh.

"Thank you very much. You know, I haven't got any pictures of those days. I really enjoyed looking at them. It's always a weird combination of joy and regret, looking at old pictures, isn't it?"

Dan nodded. "It is. I rather enjoy it, though. They were good times, and we didn't do too badly in those days. I often wish I could play with Zeb again; that's some regret alright. But I don't think I'd like to do those days over again. I'm quite happy with where I am now."

"Yes. Yes, I know what you mean." She grinned. "How old are you?"

"I'm fifty-two. Staid and boring." He looked at her. "And you?"

"Forty-nine," she said. "It must be strange to be fifty. Doesn't really make any difference but it sounds different somehow."

Then she consulted her watch. "Shall we go and see what Geoff thinks of my canvas?"

Dan nodded. It was five minutes past six; they would be able to go there slowly and nicely. "I'll get my guitar case," he said. "You are all set?"

Lizzie went into the hall and put on her coat, and Dan returned carrying his guitar. He took his coat and put it under his arm. Then they went outside, and Dan opened his car while Lizzie went to hers to get the picture. She put it on the rear seat next to the guitar case and got in.

"Okay. Let's go!"

The ride was even shorter than Lizzie remembered, and they were at the pub at twenty-five past.

"Do you mind if we get this picture thing over first?" Lizzie said.

"No I don't. First things first - seems a good idea."

They got their stuff from the car and carried it indoors. Geoff saw them coming and greeted them enthusiastically.

"Hello, folks. Welcome! So you've really brought the picture. I'm dying to see it, let me tell you!"

Lizzie smiled a little nervously and she placed the parcel on the bar.

"Here?" she asked.

"No, let's go into the back room. Mary! I'm in the back room for a few. You hold the fort, right?"

"'Course," Mary said. "It's still quiet anyway."

The three of them went behind the bar and in the back room Lizzie put the parcel on a low table. She unwrapped it and stepped back to grant Geoff a good view. He stood looking at it for quite some time. Finally he turned to Lizzie.

"You are fantastic," he said. "This is even better than I had expected. My God! I hope I can afford it. It's not over five grand, I hope?"

"No it isn't. I asked someone I know who runs a gallery, and he helped me out. I hardly ever sell oil paintings, you know. I will want two and a half grand for it. Would that be alright?"

"Of course! Excellent. Oh my, what a beautiful picture! I will have it framed and put it over the bar."

"Good. I'm glad you like it!"

Geoff nodded. "How do you want the money? Cash, or just in the bank?"

"Cash would be nice, if that's no problem."

"Alright. Cider? And a pint for you, Dan?"

He popped his head round the door and ordered the drinks. Then he sat down to arrange the money.

After a minute or so Mary came in with the drinks. She put them on the table and then she saw the picture. "Oh my gosh!" she said. "That's marvellous!"

Geoff beamed at her. "It is, isn't it? I'll put it over the bar when it's framed."

It took a little while to conclude the financial part of the transaction. When it was done it was half past seven. Dan grinned at Lizzie and said, "So - time for dinner now? I'm famished."

"That'll be on the house tonight. What'll you have?"

They ordered and Geoff went back into the bar with them. "You go and find a place, alright? I'll see to your meals."

Lizzie smiled at him. "Thank you," she said.

When they had sat down she heaved a deep sigh. "I hate this part of things," she said. "I'm happy it came off well, and I'm relieved it's over now."

"It seemed alright to me - but I see what you mean. Oh well, time to relax. Food, drink and music - what more could one want!"

Well, Lizzie thought, I could think of something. The image of Zeb's face passed before her eyes, and she looked at Dan, and she wondered how Zeb would have looked if he had lived. But she just nodded.

"When will the regular crowd be coming?"

"They will be arriving presently. I suppose they will recognise you - Jim mentioned you when I met him last, and I told him you would be around again."

Lizzie smiled. They talked a bit about last time, until their dinners put an end to it.

While they were eating the bar slowly filled up. Some of the people came up to their table to say hello, and Lizzie was able to greet a few of them by name: Jim and Ethel, Bill, and Roderick of course, Jeannie, who introduced Lizzie to her husband and inquired how she'd fared for the rest of her walk, and George, a grey-haired man who played the accordion.

"Come to sing again?" Bill said.

"Just the one song, like last time. I'm looking forward to a lot of listening."

"Okay. Very good indeed. So what brings you here? Another walk?"

"No. A small cupboard and a painting."

Bill raised his eyebrows. "I don't think I understand that. Literally, or is it some cipher?"

"No, literally. It would take some time to explain. I hope I may, some time later; it's no secret."

"Okay. Well - none of my business. Have a great evening!" He smiled at her and walked on to greet two youngish women, who would be singing later that night.

Lizzie grinned, and pushed back her plate. "Mmm," she said. "That was nice. I'll take it back when you're ready."

Dan finished his meal shortly after Lizzie, and she put his plate on top of hers and took it to the bar.

Geoff was standing there, looking at the hustle and bustle of the pub filling up. "Thank you," he said as she put the plates on the bar. "Another cider?" He didn't wait for an answer but drew a glass for her. "I was wondering about the frame. What would you advise?"

"If I were to put it on my wall I'd get a simple frame, in middle dark wood so it doesn't draw attention to itself too much. Certainly a plain one. What did you have in mind?"

"Something on your lines alright. Yes. Happy to know you do agree."

He grinned and handed her the glass. "Okay," he said. "The music is about to begin. Have fun!"

Lizzie walked back and sat down at the table. "Another drink on the house," she said. "My last one for tonight. I do hope I can have another drop of that whisky of yours tonight."

"Of course. That'll be nice. Oh, we're starting now - There's Bill."

Lizzie sat back, thoroughly enjoying herself. It really was a very nice place, as nice as the Oak. She knew the people over there, but if she lived here she was certain it would be quite the same. She would miss Charles and Joe, though, she thought.

Like last time Roderick was the first to play, and he played a dance that sounded positively Renaissance to Lizzie. When she asked him about it later that evening he winked, and said that she was right; it was a renaissance piece for guitar that he had transcribed for violin. He intended to play it with his quartet and this was a first try-out.

Most of the music was straightforward folk though, sweet and familiar, a little sentimental sometimes and good to sit listening to, she thought. The evening was busy indeed. Dan played a few jigs with Roderick and George, and he sang a song with Jim and Ethel that was new to Lizzie.

She made a few sketches while he was at it. He had a very special way of standing, and she tried to get his expression right.

Then Bill announced that Lizzie would be singing the Prickly Bush with Dan. She walked to the far end of the room, and Dan grinned at her. "I sang this song a month ago," he said, "and Lizzie here picked it up and arranged a harmony line. So here's something old and new!"

He played the intro, rather different than Joe's, and sang the first verse. Then Lizzie sang along, highly enjoying herself. Dan really had a very nice voice, and she caught his eyes during an instrumental part between the verses and smiled.

The listeners enjoyed themselves, too. Lizzie's arrangement worked out really very well, and the two voices blended to perfection. When they had finished the song they got a good round of applause.

"That was wonderful," Bill said. "It really is a pity we can't have you around more often."

Dan nodded. He couldn't agree more. But at least they could talk of old times some more that evening. He smiled at Lizzie, and she flashed him a warm smile in return. Then they walked back to their seats together, while Geoff rang the bell.

"That came off very well," Dan said. "I love your voice; you are a good singer!"

"Thank you. It's great singing together!"

He grinned at her. She was a damn nice woman.

"Pity indeed we can't sing together more often. Ah well. 's Life."

"Who knows. We have some music nights too, and if you should come and have a look at my studio, we could perhaps do some song or other again."

"Yes. That'd be great. Oh look, Jim and Ethel. They will be doing Black Jack Davy."

They sat down to listen to the song they both knew well; Lizzie had sung it once, long ago. Jim and Ethel did a very nice rendition, she thought. Hmm, she would play it when she was home again. She hadn't listened to it for some time.