Encounters by Barbara Erskine Read Free Book Online

quite unjustified rude remarks. ‘Horrible prig!’ she muttered to herself as she turned up the lane. And what was worse she realized, she still hadn’t actually earned any cash, and her desire for some rather more exotic food than eggs and cabbage was increasingly daily, if not hourly.
    Reluctantly, nervously, she rehung the notice on the gate before she changed and took the car back to the farm. If Miss Rowmill could hang the notice up, she hoped desperately that she could persuade Miss Millrow to leave it there.
    Once more dressed in jeans and barefoot, she selected the paintings Mr Chambers had made the least derogatory noises over and put them prominently round the room.
    Then she sat back to wait. No one came. She left the notice on the gate, refused to be discouraged, went to dig some potatoes and then at last settled down to paint again.
    ‘Derivative indeed,’ she snorted. ‘The man was an ignorant fool.’
    It was on the Saturday afternoon that a car drove by, slowed and backed to the gate. Two people got out and wandered up the path, exclaiming at the honeysuckle and roses, pointing up at the fields behind the cottage.
    Kate felt sick.
    They knocked and she let them in, wishing she wasn’t quite so shabbily dressed and that her toes weren’t quite so grubby from the garden.
    But they obviously liked to see her like that. She saw suddenly through their eyes a glimmer of the so-called glamour of the artist in the garret, and glad that for once she had got rid of the smell of cabbage from the house, she was content to let them wander around the room she used for a studio.
    She crossed her fingers, praying they would buy something, but they completed a round of the paintings without seeming to see anything in particular.
    Then the man turned to her hesitantly. ‘Is anything for sale, Miss Millrow?’ he asked.
    Anything! He must be joking.
    She smiled politely. ‘Well, some of my best work is away on exhibition,’ – was that Miss Rowmill talking? – ‘but most things here are for sale, yes.’
    She desperately tried to think of prices. Too high and they would be scared off; too low and they would think her valueless.
    ‘I’ll give you ten pounds for this, I love it.’
    She could not believe her ears. Ten pounds for a tiny painting of a posy of spring flowers. It wasn’t even modern in style.
    ‘That seems very fair.’ She smiled as graciously as she could.
    She sat for a long time after they had gone, gazing at the two fivers on the table. Could it be true that at last she was earning her living by painting?
    Two hours later she was chopping vegetables in the kitchen when there was a knock at the door. She opened it to find Mr Chambers standing on the doorstep. Her heart sank with embarrassment but he held out his hand blandly with absolutely no sign of recognition on his face.
    ‘You must be Miss Millrow. How do you do.’
    Had her make up been so good then? She stammered a greeting in return and showed him at his request into the studio.
    Reaching into his pocket he produced an envelope. ‘I’m glad to say I’ve managed to sell one of your paintings, Miss Millrow.’
    ‘Already?’ her voice came out in a squeak.
    ‘Already.’ He grinned at her amicably. ‘It was lying on my table after you, that is your agent,’ he corrected himself quickly, ‘had left it with me and I had a buyer almost at once. It seems my initial judgement may have been a little harsh.’
    ‘I’ll say it was,’ she muttered under her breath, and then out loud she asked. ‘How much did you get?’ She took the envelope with shaking fingers.
    ‘There’s thirty-five pounds there. I’ve already taken my commission.’ He grinned again. ‘I imagined that under the circumstances you would rather pay your agent her commission yourself.’
    Kate felt herself blushing crimson. ‘You must think I’m an awful fool.’
    ‘Not at all. You’d be surprised how many people come in with pictures they say a “friend”