‘Well?’ asked her mother. Maud scooched to the edge of her seat too. She was here now, so she might as well hear what they were all talking about and, from the aroma coming from the kitchen, it seemed that her mother had timed dinner impeccably as usual and the first course, prawns in a seafood dressing gently placed on a bed of crisp lettuce, or prawn mayonnaise as Maud called it, would be ready within the usual twenty minutes of guests arriving. Neighbours being here could throw off a normal Sunday lunch, but her mother had either invited them to join them, in which case it had been planned for weeks and no one had told her, or the gossip was so good that they would sit down exactly two minutes late.
‘Well,’ said Marcy with a complicit smile. ‘Have you heard all of the talk about this incredible artist who is leaving their work on park benches?’ To Maud’s surprise her mother nodded earnestly and her even her dad looked interested. ‘People are staking out parks to try and find out who it is and photographers are hiding in bushes,’ she continued, waving her hands around with glee, making Rosemary edge even closer while Maud’s stomach began to churn. Maud started wringing her own hands in her lap and hoped she wouldn’t be sick on her mother’s taupe carpet. She’d been too busy to leave more than one artwork out lately, as Dot was so demanding. Maud was enjoying having an artist friend in her life, so she’d put up with it. She’d been a bit slapdash this time as she’d been in a hurry, and had left it in a really local park.
‘The latest update from Nev...’ Marcy paused for dramatic effect and Maud’s mum cut in and mentioned that Marcy knew a well-known journalist who often told her stories while she styled his hair at the town’s fancy new salon, ‘is that they think they’ve worked out that the artist is from Twigleston!’
Maud sprang up at the same moment as her mother. Rosemary clasped her hands to her chest in glee, while Maud looked on in horror and confusion. Her mother hated art. ‘How exciting to have such a talented artist in the area. Maybe it will bring other celebrities into Twigleston and the house prices will rise, benefitting everyone.’
Maud felt bile at the back of her throat. Her mother would never move from the house she had spent the last thirty years making perfect and she had mountains of Maud’s paintings in the wardrobe upstairs, which Maud had found when she went to her old room to collect a book the previous year. The sight had cut her heart in two and she’d quickly shut the wardrobe door and rested her head against it briefly, before rushing back downstairs lest anyone noticed she had gone anywhere other than the bathroom.
Excusing herself as Marcy and Rosemary prattled on, and marching into the kitchen to see if her anniversary gift had been shoved into the cupboard too, she was slightly mollified to see it had been placed, as promised, in the darkest corner of the kitchen on a little shelf, but her mother had placed a plant pot in front of it and the fronds of the fern pretty much obscured the surface of the painting. Maud quietly seethed in anger. She was thinking of telling her parents that she had had some success with her work, but hearing them go on about a visiting artist making money for the town and how it would benefit the area, she decided that she might actually have her work evaluated by a professional. If it was worth anything at all, then her parents could be sitting on thousands of pounds of art that would never see the light of day. While her parents were distracted she squared her shoulders and decided it was time to act. Running up the stairs two at a time, she flung open the wardrobe doors, grabbed as many canvases as she could safely carry and did repeated journeys to her car, until the boot and whole back seat were covered in pieces of art. She flung the pale blue woollen rug she had on the back seat of her car over the ones there and then shut the door and doubled over as she was out of breath. Making herself stand up, she rushed back inside to see if anyone had missed her. They hadn’t. She’d only been gone for a few minutes, but it had felt like an age. She would make a useless spy. If anyone asked her where she’d been, she knew she would break down and tell them what she’d done.
‘Maud paints, as a hobby, you know,’ said her mother from the other room, as her guests seemed to hold art in esteem.
‘How lovely,’ said Marcy. ‘Can we see some of her work?’
Maud imagined Rosemary’s face suddenly blanching and she heard her tell them that they needed to get on soon, as the food would be ready, and maybe another time. Maud popped her head round the door as they left and said a polite goodbye and brushed her dusty hands down her jeans from the sides of the canvases that she had just stored in the back of her car. She assumed there were more in the loft, but this little act of defiance made her feel a bit better and took the sting out of them being hidden in the dark. She fleetingly thought of all of the beautiful clothes she had tucked away in her own wardrobe at home and gritted her teeth. She decided that the time would come soon for her to bring them into the daylight too. She was doing them a disservice by hiding them, the way her paintings had been stashed out of sight, and she was determined she was going to become less of a doormat.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tom checked that the children were outside and then came up behind Maud and grabbed her round the waist for a cuddle. She backed up in surprise, almost bumping into his face and knocking his front teeth out. She apologised profusely and then turned to give him a quick peck on the lips, which was highly inappropriate, but felt so damn good. They hadn’t had much chance to see each other lately as Maud had been so busy but, as she was helping Dot with an art project, he didn’t seem to mind. He kept asking what they were working on and she just told him she was assisting Dot researching a local artist, and wished he would stop going on about it.
They had managed to meet up to go to the pictures. They’d seen a horror film, which meant she’d been scared stiff and almost had to sit in his lap, which he’d seemed to enjoy, as he’d taken the opportunity to feel her backside as she got up. They had also grabbed a quick drink after work one night, but Daisy and the rest of the staff had turned up and heckled them from across the bar until they joined them, which didn’t exactly count as a sexy date night.
She checked her watch to see if the bell was going any time soon, and then dared to give him another, slightly longer smooch. She would have loved to spend a night in at her home, so they could get to know each other better, but for some reason Dot always had something else for her to do. Maud seemed to have become the gallery errand girl and, although she did feel indebted to Dot for the gorgeous jewellery, no one else could wear it, as it was plagiarism. Maud decided to give her a wide berth for a little while and concentrate on her own paintings and love life. Maybe tonight would be Tom’s lucky night!
Maud’s phone buzzed in her bag again and she ignored it. Dot had been calling her incessantly and she’d had to put her phone onto silent mode. It was getting towards the end of the day now, and her back was hurting from bending down to explain things to the children all day. They had returned from playtime and were now busily reading their storybooks. Robbie had been a real handful today, and Becky had been even worse. She’d asked so many questions that Maud’s head had started to pound and her legs felt like lumps of lead. She called out for the children to grab their schoolbags and there was a mad scurry of footsteps as they bumped into each other and chatted away. The end-of-day bell pealed and Maud breathed a sigh of relief and swung open the glass classroom door, sending the children off in the direction of their parents. She noticed that lots of people were huddling together and looking behind them. Maud groaned as she noticed a wave of purple hair with several bright feathers nestled jauntily at one side, fanning out like a rainbow. As the sea of parents parted to a buzz of gossip, Maud quickly ushered the last child from the room, gave the parents a jaunty wave, as if this brightly coloured person was a usual occurrence in her daily life – which to be honest she was these days – and quickly ushered Dot in, before slamming the door shut behind her with relief.
Tom looked up from his desk in surprise and delight. Bypassing Maud he swept Dot up into a warm hug and slopp
ily kissed her on the lips as if they were the best of friends. Dot gave a weak laugh of embarrassment as Maud looked on in confusion. Maybe the night they had all met they had chatted more than she thought? To be honest she had been so drunk she still couldn’t remember the finer details. Some of the parents were hovering by the door and looking in, so Maud gave Tom a quick shove in that direction, said her goodbyes, much to his obvious disappointment, and grabbed Dot’s hand to lead her out of the building via the infants’ entrance, as they vacated the site ten minutes earlier than the juniors.
As they walked out to the road, Maud spotted Dot’s snazzy sports car. The only way she could think of getting her away from the gossip of the school playground, and finding out why she had descended on the school like a demented peacock, was to take her back to her bungalow. For once, Dot wasn’t wearing frothy underskirts and she slid behind the wheel without a word, as she’d obviously noticed that Maud seemed desperate to get home and was upset for some reason.
As they moved away from the curb and headed home, Maud finally relaxed a little. ‘Why did you come to the school?’
Dot looked confused and took a moment to answer. ‘I needed you. To be honest I’ve got myself into a bit of a panic. I’m so grateful that you’ve been helping me and my confidence is growing, but I need you again.’
Maud sighed heavily and didn’t know how to respond. This flamboyant friendship seemed to be a bit one-sided, suiting Dot’s schedule, while she obviously thought nothing of turning up at her friend’s place of work, expecting to see her immediately without notice. It was beginning to grate on Maud’s nerves. She realised that Dot was often surrounded by people who pandered to her every whim, but Maud’s life was more reserved and far less exciting. It had skyrocketed from being borderline boring to overwhelmingly busy and most of that was because of Dot. Her own life, what there was of it, was being side-lined aggressively and Maud was feeling steamrollered. ‘What do you need my help for?’ she asked, rubbing her temples and wishing her headache would take a hike to someone else’s head, preferably Dot’s, and leave her alone.
Dot pulled up outside Maud’s bungalow and turned the engine off. She swung round to face Maud and batted her eyelashes at her. ‘That won’t work on me,’ said Maud, letting her shoulders sag in exhaustion.
‘It’s those little paintings that are being left everywhere. Remember I said that I came to see you originally to see if you could help me, as you must know the locality better than me? It’s getting worse. More people want to find the artist now and I really must get there first. The press is saying the same thing I did, that the artist is here somewhere.’
Maud’s stomach began to hurt again. This was becoming a bit of a habit, and she was worried she might have developed an ulcer with all the stress. ‘Let’s go inside and I’ll see what I can do.’
Dot clapped her hands in glee and jumped out of the car, grabbing Maud’s bag from the back seat. She rushed to the door, delved into the bag, helped herself to the keys and opened the door before Maud had set a foot out of the car. Maud wearily slammed the car door, heard it beep behind her as Dot locked it from the hallway, and trundled inside her own house like a guest, noting that her belongings had been taken into the kitchen and not left on the hook by the front door.
Dot was opening cupboards and grabbing the tea to put in two mugs, happily switching on the kettle and making herself at home. She seemed so much more relaxed now that Maud had agreed to help her, but Maud was tired after a long day, and irritable that Tom had been so exuberant around Dot when he’d never looked quite so pleased to see her. Maud knew it was petty, but Dot had barged in and laid siege to most areas of her life and, although it was exciting, it was also exhausting. Maud took in every detail of the outfit Dot was wearing and felt cross that the parents at school would now be gossiping about her and wondering how she knew this uncouth interloper. They would know she wasn’t a parent at the school, as the mums and dads were pretty well known for having cliques. The local area was very conservative, which was why her parents fit in so well here. There were no wild parties and loud music from the teenagers and boob flashing or snogging behind the bike sheds from the parents, although she had heard from a teacher friend in another area that this had happened at her school after a parents’ fund-raiser. One of the children had caught them and taken a picture for posterity on his phone camera and shared it on social media. The staff had talked about little else for weeks.
She saw Dot tug at her skirt and scratch her ribs as the fabric she wore rubbed. The movement exposed her tummy and Maud could see red marks where the material had hurt her delicate skin. Maud felt tired suddenly, and the anger she had built up bubbled to the surface and burst. She didn’t know why she was taking her frustration over her own situation out on Dot. Dot was vivacious and ran her life at full pelt. Maud’s own life was gradually changing and she felt as if she was sitting aboard a rocking ship. ‘Dot. Why do you wear clothes that burn your skin?’
Dot stopped what she was doing, on the point of opening more cupboards to search for biscuits. Her tummy rumbled loudly and Maud guessed that she’d been too busy persuading Nate to hold another private view in a few months, capitalising on his rising celebrity status, to eat all day.
Dot self-consciously pulled her top further down and blushed to the roots of her purple hair, looking defensive and scowling at Maud. She then started banging cupboards closed, her hackles clearly rising. ‘I like wearing these clothes,’ She quickly poured hot water over the teabags and splashed in some milk.
‘No, you don’t. You told me when we first met that you dress for your parents, but we haven’t discussed it since. Isn’t it about time you grew up? If you want to find this artist and be independent so badly, why don’t you start with the way you dress?’ Maud had a terrible feeling that she had just repeated a recent conversation she’d had with Daisy.
‘What about you?’ Dot answered angrily, slamming her mug of tea on the counter top so that it sloshed over the rim, and Maud fought the urge to rush over and clean the surfaces. ‘You can draw a lot better than you first let on, and yet you dress like a nun and don’t paint.’
‘I don’t dress like a nun!’
‘You do!’
Maud looked down at her buttoned-up blouse and A-line skirt, in a soft but boring brown suede, and grudgingly admitted Dot might have a point.
‘I’m really fed up.’ Maud threw her tea into the sink and opened the cupboard to set up two wine glasses, before going to the fridge and selecting a crisp, chilled wine. Pouring two almost overflowing glasses, she slugged back hers in front of Dot’s shocked face and then poured herself another one.
‘Maud! What’s got into you?’
‘Drink up,’ said Maud. ‘We’re getting drunk and you can stay the night if you behave.’
Dot giggled, then thought about it for about two seconds before gulping down her first glass and following suit. ‘I don’t have any spare clothes.’ Maud eyed her friend up and down, saying, ‘thank goodness for that!’ Both women burst out laughing, so Maud grabbed the wine and pulled Dot towards the garden. ‘How much does it mean to you to find this stupid artist? Are they really that good?’
‘The work can rival Nate’s,’ said Dot earnestly, spilling the wine, which splashed over the rim of the glass onto Maud’s grey kitchen tiles as she followed her friend. ‘I wouldn’t be so bothered otherwise.’
Maud’s step faltered. ‘You have got to be kidding me?’
Dot looked at her incredulously. ‘Have you not seen the work? Having a client like that might mean I could start being myself and finding my own voice.’ Dot sighed. ‘I’ve been working really hard on my collection and you’re right, it’s about time I stopped trying to be someone I’m not. I’ll try if you will,’ she dared.
‘We should start trusting each other,’ said Maud. ‘I’ve been hiding myself away for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to share things. My friend Daisy is the only one who sees the real
me.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dot felt a pang of jealousy towards Daisy, but shook it off as she could feel she’d been crowding Maud lately. She’d tried not to, but she’d been snowed under at work and Nate had kept giving her extra jobs to do. He’d said that Maud had offered to help, but seeing how frazzled Maud was today she had a sneaky suspicion he had ulterior motives and wanted Maud to be too busy to see a certain dishy teacher. How underhand was that? She did grudgingly admire his tactics though.
‘If we’re being truthful,’ said Dot, ‘I know I’ve been taking up too much of your time lately...’ She thought about dumping her brother in trouble, but she’d never seen him pay much attention to a woman before, so she cut him some slack. ‘I’ve been overworked, with the drawing classes, managing my family’s art and trying to find this artist, and I’ve been leaning on you too much. We haven’t known each other long enough for me to do that yet,’ she joked.
Maud raised a smile and clinked glasses with Dot, suddenly looking much better now that they were friends again. ‘It’s ok, but don’t do it again,’ she chided. ‘Seeing as we’re sharing confidences, I didn’t just bring you out here to admire my tidy bush.’
Dot raised an enquiring eyebrow and Maud laughed and ran to the end of the garden and disappeared through the hedge. Dot frowned and went after her, discovering a small gate. Not pausing to wonder if she should go through, as she really didn’t care and was desperate to find out what Maud was on about, Dot opened it. She stopped short when she saw the beautiful studio with big glass windows and an easel set inside. She gawped as she drew closer and saw the delicate little artworks, with spidery line-drawn animals and splashes of vivid colour. ‘What the hell is going on?’ Dot felt totally confused at how Maud could have all of these here. Had she stalked the artist and pinched every single one of the artworks he’d left in the parks? Surely that wasn’t fair on the local people he’d left them for? She stepped beyond the open double doors and saw a half-finished work on the easel. Maud was sitting in front of it and, as she looked at Dot, everything was suddenly sliding into place, and Dot was kicking herself for not guessing her secret sooner. Now that she could openly gaze around at the various pieces of art in the studio, the resemblance to the prize-winning artwork Maud had submitted was obvious. She hadn’t copied the style – she was the style. The trees in her bedroom... she had painted them too.
If You Love Me, I'm Yours Page 11