Free Painting Naked (Macmillan New Writing) by Maggie Dana Page A

Colin’s concerned.”
    I hurl my pillow at her.
    Sophie catches it and says, “So, what did you guys talk about?”
    “The usual. Kids. Jobs. You know.”
    “What about his wife, Shirley?”
    “Shelby,” I tell her. “They’re not married—they live together.”
    Sophie kicks off her shoes. “Does Colin want to see you again?”
    If only he did. I shake my head.
    “He is enormously attractive.” Sophie’s voice is a breathless gush.
    I cover my eyes and she pounces. “I knew it!” she exclaims, clapping her hands.

Chapter 11
     
     
    London
    September 2010
     
     
    On Monday morning, Claudia insists she doesn’t want help getting to her doctor appointment. I don’t need a chaperone, she says.
    Sophie folds her arms and looks at me. “Three weeks ago, the doctor’s receptionist phoned and bawled me out because Mum didn’t show up.”
    “The sun was shining,” Claudia says. “I went to the park instead.”
    They leave ten minutes later, still arguing. A couple of Sophie’s customers call, and one of them complains her photocopied price lists and menus are barely legible.
    An idea takes shape. I look around for some paper and find Claudia’s sketch pad lying on the coffee table, and good, there’s a pencil tucked into its spiral binding.
    I begin to draw.
    * * *
     
    Sophie’s face is furrowed with worry lines when they return.
    “What’s wrong?” I bundle my sketches beneath a pillow.
    “A touch of heartburn,” Claudia says, patting her chest. “I ate too much yesterday, that’s all.”
    “Mum, doctors don’t order expensive tests for indigestion.” Sophie frowns at her. “I’m going to do the washing up.”
    “What kind of tests?” I ask.
    Claudia sinks into an armchair. “Something electrical.”
    “An electrocardiogram?”
    “That was one. There were others. Quite unnecessary, so I refused them and now my daughter is”—there’s a ferocious crash from the kitchen—“a bit cross with me.” Claudia looks at her sketch pad, now back on my lap. “What’s all this?”
    “A gift.” I show her the layouts. “To thank Sophie for having me. Stationery, business cards, price lists and menus. I’ll finish them off at home, on the computer.”
    “Perfect,” Claudia says. “Just what she needs, but wait till she gets through playing cricket with the crockery before you show them to her.”
    The telephone rings and Sophie answers it in the kitchen. “It’s Colin,” she calls out. “He wants to know how your ankle’s doing.”
    Claudia glances at my foot. “Tell him it’s Prussian blue with a nice touch of ocher.”
    Sophie steps into the living room and hands me the phone. “Here. You tell him.” She turns to her mother. “Come on, Mum. Let’s take the dogs for a walk.” She grabs a handful of leashes from a hook on the wall. “We can continue our squabble outside.”
    The front door slams shut.
    “Jilly? Are you there?” His voice is so faint, I can barely hear it.
    I grip the phone with both hands. “Yes.”
    “Look, I can’t talk long, but I’ve been worried. Are you okay?”
    My ankle throbs. “I’m fine.”
    “Jilly—?”
    There’s a long pause. “Colin?”
    “I’m here,” he says. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just come right out with it.”
    I hold my breath. He’s going to tell me he’s changed his mind about coming over. That it would be best to leave things as they are. I can handle this. No, I can’t.
    “I’d like to see you again,” he says.
    I’d like to see you again.
    My breath comes out in a rush.
    “When are you leaving?” he asks.
    “Thursday afternoon.”
    “I’ll come to the airport. Heathrow, right?”
    I’m a teenager being asked out for a first date. “Yes. Terminal Three.”
    “What time is your flight?”
    “Three thirty.”
    “British Airways?”
    “Virgin.”
    “I’ll meet you at their information booth. How does one o’clock sound?”
    “Great.”
    Wonderful . Perfect .
    Colin