Honey's Farm by Iris Gower Page B

will be right up my street. I might not be able to paint like my father, which is my great misfortune, but I can recognize talent, even when it is only in the bud. That, I think, is my strength.’
    â€˜You’ll do it, then?’ Eline asked. ‘You will take over the gallery, as from, let us say, a week tomorrow?’
    â€˜So soon?’ Calvin asked. ‘And what will you do?’ His question might have sounded impertinent, prying even, but he spoke with such gentleness and such a real need to know that Eline unbent enough to tell him the truth.
    â€˜I don’t feel fulfilled here,’ she said softly. ‘Oystermouth has many unhappy associations for me. I think it’s time I moved away, found something completely different to do with my life.’
    He came towards her, standing very close, his eyes searching hers. ‘I would very much like to be part of that life,’ he said softly.
    Eline looked up at him. He was a fine handsome man. Calvin would never have to worry about making a success of anything, for, apart from his illustrious background, as the son of a greatly talented painter, he had a flair all his own for saying and doing the right thing; Calvin was a gentleman in every sense of the word.
    There would be no barriers to divide them, Eline realized with surprise, no stiff-necked pride to stand in the way of their happiness. But there would be no love, not on her part; she had given all her love to Will, but Calvin’s friendship, that she would treasure.
    She sighed heavily. ‘I am grateful,’ she said, ‘but I have a great deal to think about just now.’ She added apologetically, ‘I must be alone for a time, I feel so confused.’
    â€˜I can wait,’ Calvin said, smiling down at her. ‘I’m a very patient man, and I usually get what I want in the end, you’ll see.’
    It would be wonderful to have someone strong to take care of her, to make her decisions for her, to hold her and comfort her. Eline smiled up at Calvin, resting her hand for a moment on his arm. ‘What will be, will be,’ she said softly, and then she moved away from him, remembering that those self-same reasons had made her marry Joe Harries. She’d wanted his support and his strength, but the marriage had been far from a success.
    Her tone became brisk. ‘I’ll leave everything to you, then?’ she said, without looking at him. ‘You’ll see to the legalities concerning the gallery?’
    â€˜You can trust me on that,’ Calvin said easily. ‘I will make sure that our partnership works, don’t doubt it.’ If there was a double meaning in his words, Eline chose to ignore it.
    Later, she walked alone along the edge of the sea, staring out at the distant horizon, where the coast of Devon was just faintly visible like a mysterious land rising up out of the sea. She sighed. Was she doomed to be alone for the rest of her life? It certainly seemed that way. Perhaps she should enjoy Calvin’s overtures? Begin to live life to the full, instead of being for ever on the periphery of it, an empty shell of a woman without love or family?
    â€˜Rubbish!’ She said the word out loud, and a startled seagull flew screaming up into the sky. Eline sank down on to the sand, and it felt soft and hot beneath her fingers. She plunged them deeper into the warmth, catching a shell between her fingers and drawing it free. It was luminous, pearl-like and delicately shaped, and so thin that the edges were razor-sharp. She stared at it. It wasn’t an oystershell: she had handled enough oysters to know the craggy, hard feel of an oyster. Perhaps this was a mussel shell; it certainly looked like it, but it was fragmented and broken, and it cracked as her fingers pressed it. Fragile, just as she was at this moment.
    Impatient with herself, Eline rose to her feet and moved away from the beach. She was becoming introspective,