he tells her anything. Besides, it won’t do her any harm to have a check, bossy little madam. Always was.’
The bossy little madam stomped her way downstairs and relieved her frustration by peeling the potatoes Karen handed her. After a while her temper subsided and she wandered out to the stable yard. No point pushing for the story, she told herself. If Rory asked them not to discuss it, they’re not going to. I don’t like to ask Rory outright, but…. She sighed and shook herself. Lara’s mocking hint had disturbed her more than she cared to admit, even to herself, but surely there couldn’t be anything in it? Her father had always been her hero and the idea that he … no, it was preposterous.
She pushed open the stable door, knocking as she did so, and looked in – at images from hell. Huge canvases of red and orange light screamed at her from all sides of the open space. Jagged black wounds scored the searing nightmare colours.There were no shapes, no forms, no figures in this landscape of pain and fear.
Recoiling in shock she turned away involuntarily and came upon another picture that was somehow infinitely sad, a small, swirling green canvas. An oasis, perhaps? She couldn’t make it out but it spoke of grief and longing.
And I sneered at his offer to paint me, she winced, as she slowly became aware that he was looking at her. His face was blank, features schooled into immobility, but his hazel eyes were watchful.
She put out a tentative hand. ‘Rory—’
‘I was backpacking last year,’ he said, turning his head away. ‘I was due to start working at the university here in the autumn so there was the summer to fill. Mum had died only a couple of months earlier so there wasn’t anything to go home for. I’d broken up with my girlfriend too so a trip out East seemed as good an idea as any.
‘It was fine until Mitch, the guy from college that I was with, met this local man in a bar and when he offered us a lift in his Jeep to share expenses, we jumped at it. He seemed okay and we bummed around the countryside with him for a few more days till we were going through Customs.’
He shrugged. ‘It was the old story. Couple of gullible young idiots who were horrified to find our bags stuffed with heroin, but his luck ran out when one of the Customs people recognized him from a wanted list.
‘I won’t bore you with the details but in a way, that helped Mitch and me. Because the local guy was a known smuggler they accepted that we’d been caught in his net, but they still threw us in jail. He, the other guy, was charged, tried and found guilty all in a rush, but because they were angling for a deal with the British government, they held off executing him, using us as the bargaining point.’
Again came the resigned shrug. ‘We were told afterwards that was probably why we were arrested in the first place but whatever the truth of it, we served their purpose. It took them nine months to sort everything out and in the end they cleaned us up, kitted us out in smart new gear and took us out of the cell, so we thought we were home and dry. But they had one last surprise for us – they forced us to watch the smuggler’s execution.’
He ignored her shocked gasp. ‘It was all very hush-hush and we were told to keep a low profile once we got home – other Europeans in the same jail, you see. God only knows how that Lara woman found out about it. I must remember to shut her up. Anyway, my university job was held open for me so after debriefing and counselling, here I am.’
It was hard to know what to say and Edith was grateful that he was looking more himself again. ‘These are for an Amnesty exhibition in the New Year,’ he told her as she stared again at the flaring paintings, then his glance flickered towards the small green canvas. ‘I was glad Mum was dead. It would have been hell for her; she had no family left.’ He went to the sink and started to clean his brushes. ‘She had a cerebral
The bossy little madam stomped her way downstairs and relieved her frustration by peeling the potatoes Karen handed her. After a while her temper subsided and she wandered out to the stable yard. No point pushing for the story, she told herself. If Rory asked them not to discuss it, they’re not going to. I don’t like to ask Rory outright, but…. She sighed and shook herself. Lara’s mocking hint had disturbed her more than she cared to admit, even to herself, but surely there couldn’t be anything in it? Her father had always been her hero and the idea that he … no, it was preposterous.
She pushed open the stable door, knocking as she did so, and looked in – at images from hell. Huge canvases of red and orange light screamed at her from all sides of the open space. Jagged black wounds scored the searing nightmare colours.There were no shapes, no forms, no figures in this landscape of pain and fear.
Recoiling in shock she turned away involuntarily and came upon another picture that was somehow infinitely sad, a small, swirling green canvas. An oasis, perhaps? She couldn’t make it out but it spoke of grief and longing.
And I sneered at his offer to paint me, she winced, as she slowly became aware that he was looking at her. His face was blank, features schooled into immobility, but his hazel eyes were watchful.
She put out a tentative hand. ‘Rory—’
‘I was backpacking last year,’ he said, turning his head away. ‘I was due to start working at the university here in the autumn so there was the summer to fill. Mum had died only a couple of months earlier so there wasn’t anything to go home for. I’d broken up with my girlfriend too so a trip out East seemed as good an idea as any.
‘It was fine until Mitch, the guy from college that I was with, met this local man in a bar and when he offered us a lift in his Jeep to share expenses, we jumped at it. He seemed okay and we bummed around the countryside with him for a few more days till we were going through Customs.’
He shrugged. ‘It was the old story. Couple of gullible young idiots who were horrified to find our bags stuffed with heroin, but his luck ran out when one of the Customs people recognized him from a wanted list.
‘I won’t bore you with the details but in a way, that helped Mitch and me. Because the local guy was a known smuggler they accepted that we’d been caught in his net, but they still threw us in jail. He, the other guy, was charged, tried and found guilty all in a rush, but because they were angling for a deal with the British government, they held off executing him, using us as the bargaining point.’
Again came the resigned shrug. ‘We were told afterwards that was probably why we were arrested in the first place but whatever the truth of it, we served their purpose. It took them nine months to sort everything out and in the end they cleaned us up, kitted us out in smart new gear and took us out of the cell, so we thought we were home and dry. But they had one last surprise for us – they forced us to watch the smuggler’s execution.’
He ignored her shocked gasp. ‘It was all very hush-hush and we were told to keep a low profile once we got home – other Europeans in the same jail, you see. God only knows how that Lara woman found out about it. I must remember to shut her up. Anyway, my university job was held open for me so after debriefing and counselling, here I am.’
It was hard to know what to say and Edith was grateful that he was looking more himself again. ‘These are for an Amnesty exhibition in the New Year,’ he told her as she stared again at the flaring paintings, then his glance flickered towards the small green canvas. ‘I was glad Mum was dead. It would have been hell for her; she had no family left.’ He went to the sink and started to clean his brushes. ‘She had a cerebral
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