Carnforth's Creation by Tim Jeal Read Free Book Online

electric Maserati for a picture at a later date, that would be fine by him. Matthew had considered the suggestion for some time before finally declining.
    That evening, back at school, Paul had admitted how unhappy he was. Matthew had not said much, but the following morning, after chapel, he had thrust at Paul his treasured car, telling him he could keep it without strings. Paul recalled raising token opposition before accepting. In fact that had not been quite the end of the story, because, several days later, during Latin, Paul had slipped Matthew a scrap of paper, promising ‘to my best friend Matthew N a picture when I get Delvaux’.
    Bridget laughed uneasily. ‘You’re surely not saying you should have delivered?’
    Paul watched some butterflies fluttering around a buddleia . ‘Not many people give away what they value most.’ His distant expression was suddenly replaced by one of those flicks of close attention Bridget remembered so well from the past. ‘Don’t you see?’ he urged. ‘Somewhere along the line Matthew got the idea that he was the one who always did the giving. Isn’t that why he backed out of making a film with me?’
    ‘It’s possible,’ conceded Bridget, her voice sounding scratchy. A clear presentiment of what was coming dazed her. He moved closer, intently questioning.
    ‘If I make some sort of gesture … do you think I could … put things right?’
    A long silence while she stared at the cascading flowers of a laburnum tree.
    ‘So what about a picture?’ he went on, without particular emphasis. He smiled. ‘I’d hardly miss one; and I did say I would. Of course it’d have to be a “bedroom picture”; all the stuff downstairs being more or less sacrosanct.’
    No wonder women adored him, she thought … being able to say something so extraordinary and still look anxious; almost expecting to be refused. Bedroom pictures? On one wall of the room she was sharing with Matthew, a breathtaking portrait of a child by Hoppner; next to it a Hobbema landscape, small but perfect. Yet probably he wouldn’t miss either … perhaps hadn’t seen them once that year. Looking at the tiny glinting cross of an aeroplane, she felt dizzy.
    ‘He’d think you were buying him,’ she said, in a tone that shocked her. Because Matthew would certainly turn it down? Because Paul knew he would? Because her disappointment was despicably intense, because …?
    Paul considered; head on one side, as if this had not occurred to him. Perhaps it really hadn’t. The laughter lines deepened around his eyes. ‘So I tell him I’ve given up the idea of a film.’ Her silence got through to him. ‘He might think I wasn’t sincere?’ She nodded. He drew in a deep breath, and kicked at the gravel underfoot. A moment later he laughed triumphantly. ‘So I give it to you. How can that put him under any obligation?’ Anticipating objection, he added gently, ‘In my place wouldn’t you sometimes want to do things for people you cared about?’
    ‘Don’t think I’m not bowled over,’ she began shakily.
    ‘Fine,’ he cried, ‘just think about it. Plenty of time …’ He touched her cheek; a gesture of encouragement before returning to his workmen.
    ‘All right, lads,’ she heard him say, ‘let’s have those ladies on their feet.’
    *
    Not long after leaving the library, Matthew made up his mind to patch things up with Bridget. Looking for her in thegardens, he passed the swimming pool, hidden away behind a creeper-clad wall. From the other side he heard sounds of splashing and laughter. On passing through the small arched entrance, instead of finding his wife, Matthew saw Gemma and Eleanor’s languid cousin, Jonathan, cleaving the sparkling water with fluent strokes. As Matthew backed towards the gate, Gemma spotted him.
    ‘Not so fast, Fellini,’ she spluttered. ‘I want a word with you.’
    Rather than risk a repeat of last night’s scene, he decided to humour her. Five minutes later, sitting