Free Lamp Black, Wolf Grey by Paula Brackston

didn’t say I didn’t like him. I’m just saying you don’t know anything about him,” Annabel said without turning around. She came to the barn door and stopped. Now she pivoted on her heel to face her daughter, her tone serious. “Take care, darling,” she said. “Take care.”
    Laura shook her head and gave a little laugh, but secretly she was in turmoil. Why had this man affected her so? Yes, he was good looking, but they had only exchanged a few words. And for once her mother was right, she knew absolutely nothing about him. Only that he invaded her thoughts. And that his presence disturbed her. And that now he had gone she felt something missing. She finished her beer and went into the house to help Dan.
    *   *   *
    I T WAS WITH some relief that Laura waved off her mother on Monday morning. Dan had talked her into staying the extra night so that she could travel back with him instead. It was an olive branch, and one Annabel had the good grace to accept. They had survived the weekend without major upsets, but the air was thick with things not said, and the effort of being upbeat about everything had been wearying for Laura. She knew she would feel guilty the moment her mother left, thinking of her going back to London to carry on her life alone. She promised herself to be gentler when Annabel next visited, to try harder, and to make her feel welcome whenever she wanted to come and stay. Perhaps, slowly, her mother would grow used to the idea of Penlan and come to see that the move was a positive thing for her daughter. For all of them. She was about to go to her studio when the telephone rang.
    “Laura, Hi!” Penny’s relentless enthusiasm bounced down the telephone line. “Got you at last! Beginning to think I’d lost you to the wilderness.”
    “I’ve only been here five minutes, give me a chance.” She didn’t feel like being nagged by her agent.
    “Enough time to get things set up? I know how you can’t stand to be without a painting on the go for more than a day or so.”
    “I was just on my way to the studio.”
    “A proper studio already? I’m impressed.”
    “You might not be if you saw it.” She smiled at the thought of what her agent’s reaction would be to the unfinished, dusty space that she had to work in.
    “So long as you’re painting, Laura. Time flies , and all that. How are things shaping up?”
    “If by things you mean paintings, there aren’t any yet. But I’ve got ideas. This place could give me subjects for the next twenty years. I just need a bit more time to find my rhythm again. You know, the move, new place, having had a break … Look, stop worrying—you know I always deliver.”
    “Of course you do. I have every faith, every confidence. So looking forward to seeing what you produce out there. Nearer the time I’ll organize a van to pick it all up. We’ll get everything framed down here, as per norm, yes? I’ll get back to you once the gallery have confirmed the dates. A November opening is looking likely at the mo’.”
    “November? I thought you said Christmas.”
    “November is Christmas these days, Laura my love.”
    The phone call left her feeling rattled. Whatever she had said to Penny about ideas and inspiration she still found it difficult to settle into any proper work. Potching about was all very well, but it didn’t put canvasses on walls. She still felt strangely restless and knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate until her state of mind settled. She had already had one failed attempt at painting the day before because she had not been able to focus. Her mood was in no small part due to the continued heavy, storm-laden weather. She had never known such humidity to last so long without breaking. She needed to shake the weekend from her head somehow and decided a little exercise and an hour or so of being on the open mountain might help. She took her sketching bag and headed up the path to the hill gate. The steep climb pulled at the