by Hilary Boyd
As it had, indeed, between Lily and her sister. She had been to supper with Helen and David only last night. Kit was still AWOL, still an ongoing cause of distress. But since the summer and Kit’s most recent rejection, her sister and brother-in-law were finally on the same page about their son. David, reluctantly, had stopped taking Kit food, cleaning up after him, giving him keys, monitoring him. They both seemed to have resigned themselves – as much as would ever be possible – to the status quo.
No, Lily’s nerves this morning were of a very different nature.
*
‘Is this it?’ Sara grinned at her mother as they pushed open the door to a small gallery in a narrow lane off the Broad. The four of them seemed to take up a lot of room in the quiet space – Ted particularly, with his loud voice and relentless enthusiasm. Lily greeted the blonde girl, Zoë, who sat behind the desk in the corner.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked, casting an anxious glance around. On the right-hand wall were displayed fifteen of Lily’s colourful pen-and-ink portraits. Blues and pinks and yellows, pale green and dark green, blacks and greys, the lines wove through the small, intricate drawings, the faces startlingly alive and full of character.
Zoë grinned, pointing to the pictures. ‘See?’
And Lily did see. Dots. Red dots. Seven of them. She had sold seven of her drawings. The fact thrilled her.
It had been Seth who’d insisted she talk to Rebecca, his friend who owned the Oxford gallery. Lily had done a pen-and-ink drawing of the boat, Mairzy Doats, as a thank-you for letting her stay. He’d been delighted, and asked to see some of her other work. Lily had been reluctant, her father’s words still ringing in her ears, even thirty years later: ‘You have to be brilliant to make it as an artist, and you’re not brilliant, Lillian, not by a long chalk.’ But Seth’s obvious enthusiasm had finally won her over.
‘Awesome,’ drawled Ted, examining the art close up.
‘Wow!’ Dillon grinned, putting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing her affectionately.
Sara laughed. ‘God, Mum. These are fantastic. Why didn’t you do this years ago?’
Lily smiled, but didn’t reply. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t done it years ago because she had, finally, created some breathing space, some time to call her own. She missed Freddy, sometimes cried for him, but she didn’t miss hanging on to the coat tails of his crazy, whirlwind existence – being consumed by him. No, these days Lily was in charge of her own fate. And she found she was hugely enjoying the opportunity to make her life exciting . . . all by herself.
Acknowledgements
The Gloria Steinem quote is taken from her book Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions, second edition, published October 1995 by Holt Paperbacks (first published by Henry Holt & Co., New York, January 1983), quoted by permission.
As always, huge thanks to Jane Wood and the team at Quercus in the production of this book.