The Estuary ~ (A Conversation)

 The Estuary  ~ (A Conversation) 

By Janet Baldey 

“So, any luck today?” 

“Firstly,”  I held up a finger.  “It was such a lovely day, I decided to take a walk along the estuary. Hadn’t gone a hundred yards when I found myself lying face down, my nose inches from a puddle. Completely dazed… Hadn’t a clue what had happened, but although I was winded, nothing seemed to be broken.  Even Essex mud can sometimes be a blessing.  Anyway, feeling a perfect fool, I began to get up, hoping no-one had seen.  Fat chance….seconds later I was being suffocated by lavender and a female voice was doing its best to hit top C.” 

“Are you alright?  Marcus, you bad dog, how could you?  Here, let me help you up.  Oh no!  Now, I’ve made it worse. I’ve got paint all over your lovely jacket.  How stupid!  You must let me pay for it.”  Her voice rose even higher, chasing larks into the sky.

          I looked at the woman jitterbugging in front of me.  Middle fifties, maybe.  Blonde, plump.  I was about to tell her what I thought about her and her damn dog, when I took a second look.    Her clothes were casual but obviously top quality and I’d swear the pearls glowing in her ears and around her neck were the real thing, so I changed the shape of my mouth into a smile.

          “Please don’t worry, it was my own stupid fault…wasn’t looking where I was going.  Is this the culprit?”

          Now, you know I dislike dogs intensely, but I made myself pat the hairy thing drooling in front of me.

          “I’m afraid so, He’s usually so good but he must have seen a rabbit and when he does, the red mist descends and he’s off.”         

I nodded understandingly.  Then, I noticed a smudge of blue paint on her nose, an easel and a half-finished canvas and quickly made the logical conclusion. “Why, you’re an artist!”         

She laughed, a shrill tinkling sound that made the fillings in my teeth ache.  “Oh hardly, I just dabble, I only took it up after my husband died.”

          I pretended to admire the widow’s painting.  “It’s very good.”  (It wasn’t, just a mere daub – God, the things I do for you.)

          “Do you think so?”

          “Absolutely.  It’s just that…excuse me, do you mind?”  I reached for the brush and added a couple of thin, ochre lines.  “There…”         

“Oh, that is so much better.”  The old girl clasped her hands, looking as if she was peeing herself with joy.  “Do you paint?”

                “Used to but when Mater and Pater fell ill, I had to move out of the Manor.  Care Home fees are so expensive, you know.  Where I live now, there is hardly room to swing the proverbial cat, let alone store canvasses and what not.” 

          Blondie’s eyes widened, she couldn’t have looked more stricken if she’d caught me strangling a cat – or her bloody dog.

                 “What a terrible shame.  It’s obvious that you’re sooo talented.”

                 I hid a smirk and looked sad. “Of course, I miss painting immensely – almost as much as I do the parents.”

                 Her voice dropped to whisper, as if she was in the very presence of the dead.  “I understand completely.  Tell me, what is it that you do?”

                 “Got a little business going – internet design.  Not doing too badly actually – in fact I’m on the brink of something earth shattering.  If, of course, I can raise the money to finance it.  Anyway, enough of nasty business talk.  Where do you go to paint?” 

                 “I belong to a local group; we meet in the village hall.  It’s great fun.  Oh, I’ve just had a brilliant idea.  Why don’t you come along and join us.  I’m sure we could learn from you.”

                 No doubt about that, I thought.  Aloud, I said.  “Do you know, I’d really like to.  Take my mind off my business worries.  But, as I said, easels and canvasses take up a lot of space.”

                 She fingered the pearls at her neck and my mouth watered.

                 “That’s no problem.  I rattle along in my big old house like a pea in a pod.  I’ve got plenty of room.  Come and see.”

                 I held up a second finger. “So, I helped her pack up and she dragged me along and wow, that house!   Drowning in ivy, glowing in the sun, slumbering under oaks, all the clichés you can possibly think of, and I had an ‘in’!”  I licked my lips and leaned back in my chair.

 “And thirdly?”         

“Give me a chance, babe.  But thanks to Marcus, I’ve sown a whole row of seeds and they’ll fruit soon enough.  Anyway, what happened with you.  Did the old goat bite?”

 

          The words were no sooner out of my mouth when a shaft of sunlight coloured her hair rose-gold.

 

 She crossed her long, bronzed legs and lifted one perfect eyebrow.  “Stupid question – wish I hadn’t asked.”

 

Copyright Janet Baldey