‘Oh yes, so we were,’ he said as if he’d forgotten.
‘Susie, I’m sorry he turned up on the moor this afternoon.’
‘It actually lifted all our moods.’
‘Oh good. Fergus was furious but I’m sure it will blow over, he’s not one to drag these things out.’
‘Honestly, it wasn’t a problem.’
Zoe smiled. ‘I’m sure Ewen didn’t mean any harm. Up on the moor is where he gets his inspiration.’
‘He knows a lot about painting, doesn’t he?’
Zoe’s face, that one which wears emotion so well, looked seriously doubtful.
‘How do you know?’ said Louis.
‘Rupert and I stopped by his house this morning.’
‘His house?’ said Zoe, looking at Louis, and I wondered what was going on between these two.
‘Yes.’
‘He let you in?’ Zoe was still looking at Louis.
‘We had a bit of time to spare.’
‘I see. Poor Ewen being woken so early.’
‘He was, as he said, up, just not dressed. I did feel a bit bad but he honestly didn’t seem to mind.’
‘What makes you think he knows about painting?’ Zoe wanted to debate the point.
‘He is a painter,’ said Louis, and Zoe laughed.
‘Yes, and he gave Rupert a very good rundown on atmospheric perspective.’
Rupert was sitting on Zoe’s other side. ‘Ah,’ she said, turning to include him. ‘Did Ewen show you any of his work?’
‘No, though I did ask to see his studio.’
‘And he wouldn’t let you in?’
I answered, ‘He wouldn’t let either of us in.’
‘That’s because he only lets his best of friends have a peek,’ said Louis. ‘Aye, Zoe?’
‘I learnt my lesson the hard way,’ she smirked. ‘One day I was looking for him, and marched straight in. He wasn’t very happy and has locked his door ever since.’
‘Bit over the top,’ said Rupert.
Zoe came crashing down in Ewen’s defence. ‘I don’t see why he should have to show other people.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Rupert apologised. ‘I’d just like to know what kind of pictures he paints?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘You must have an idea,’ he cajoled. ‘He told us he works from photographs.’
‘Highland landscapes, I think.’
Where has Zoe’s insouciance come from? Her conversation has really gone off the boil tonight. One minute she’s engaged, the next she’s offhand, almost as if there’s something preying on her mind, coming to the forefront, receding and then surfacing again. Does this happen when one is pregnant? A downside if so.
‘Hey Louis,’ I said, ‘maybe you’ve been taking photographs for Ewen?’
He stared at me unamused.
‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.’
‘When would I have had the time?’ He was cross. Guilty I bet. If Louis has been taking pictures, the huge file downloading on Ewen’s computer this morning could have been them. Which would figure…Louis exploited the broadband allowance. Ha. No wonder he didn’t say.
‘I love photography,’ giggled Zoe. ‘You must take your camera out when you’re painting. I’m having a website designed for future courses and we could really do with some good pictures on it. I simply don’t have the time.’
‘Are you a photographer too?’ Louis flattered her.
‘I enjoy it when I do it.’
‘So do I,’ he said, winking at me.
‘What’s your opinion, Susie,’ said Rupert, ‘of people painting from photographs?’
‘Well, I feel strongly that you have to sit in front of the real thing and at least do a sketch to get the atmosphere of the place. I wouldn’t dismiss photographs,’ I smirked at Louis, ‘but only as an aid.’
‘Do you ever use them?’
‘Yes, for pet portrait commissions but only once I’ve been to meet the pet in question. I’d find it impossible to capture their character without.’
Louis looked at his watch. ‘Nearly time to go,’ he announced.
‘I do hope you have fun,’ said Zoe.
The ting of Fergus’s glass silenced us all. ‘Let’s get a move on. Out of here and into the bus. The performance starts in an hour.’
‘How long’s the journey?’ said Jane.
‘Forty-five minutes at the most.’
‘I’d better go and spend a penny then,’ said Felicity and we all got up and left the room.
The town hall architecture was a Caledonian reading of the Gothic, a Scottish Baronial Revival building with a far-from-Baronial woman on the door. Ms let’s-keep-the-show-on-the-road and don’t stop and look at my cleavage even if you think it’s asking for it ushered us out of the cold and into the building. She was wearing a two-sizes-too-small underaged outfit and as her head turned into the pitch-black interior save for a few flickering candles, her extended eyelashes pointed us on our way. ‘Full house the night, come on, get a wee move on, in youse go, that’s right, tickets to me, then youse can grab a table, roll up, roll up, on you go, keep movin’. Thank you, Sir. Ladies first.’
‘No,’ she exclaimed at the sight of Lianne’s mobile. ‘No taking pictures. This is a private show.’
‘I was just using the torch to find the table.’
‘Yous eyes’ll soon adjust. No torches and no telephones, Missy.’
On we went, sticking close together, caterpillaring our way through occupied round tables. There were at least three lairy men to every done-up woman and as we crept our way to find a free seat it amused me to think, if only they knew we’d brought an Earl.
It was eight to a table so Fergus and Rupert spilled on to another and as soon as we’d sat down Rupert generously offered to buy the drinks. ‘This one’s on me.’
‘That’s really kind of you, mate,’ said Shane, ‘but there’s no way I have enough cash for a round.’
‘I’m sure no one will expect it, so don’t worry about that. But I would like to. Wine for the ladies?’
We all bent across the crushed velvet tablecloth and tried in the glow of the tea-light to make out the list of drinks on the A4 sheet. Rupert meanwhile waved his hand at one of eight blonde bombshells buzzing around the room on roller-skates. It wasn’t long before one rolled up and Rupert, unable to raise his eyes above her teeny-weeny kilt and fishnet suspenders, practically drooled on the
