Picture Imperfect by Nicola Yeager Read Free Book Online

been on holiday to somewhere far away like that have you. It must
have cost a lot of money.’
    ‘It’s not that he didn’t want me to go with him. The
holiday was already booked, I keep telling you.’
    ‘You don’t keep telling me. You only mentioned it once
before. Danny did you say? Danny can be a girl’s name as well, can’t it?’
    ‘He’s not going on holiday with a girl!’
    Well, actually he is. Two girls. But there’s no way on earth I’m giving her that little gem of information.
    ‘If you’d settled down into a proper career like
teaching, you’d be able to afford to go with him. Instead, you’re wasting your
time on painting ugly splodges that no one wants to buy. You’re not just
wasting your time, you’re wasting your youth and you’re frittering away your
life. You’ve already squandered your twenties messing around with this art
thing and now you’re going to squander your thirties. Before you know it, you’ll
be an old maid. No man wants a girl who sits around the house all day painting
rubbish that a six year old could do. Mark is a good catch. He’s got a good,
steady job. You could do a lot worse believe you me.’
    I’m going to kill her. I swear I am.
    ‘ Him going on holiday without
you is the beginning of the end, you mark my words. How long did you say? Five
days? It’ll be a fortnight next time and he’ll be taking some nice young girl
with him who wants to settle down and get married. That’s the sort of girl that
men want. Not David Hockley.’
    ‘It’s David Hockney .’
    ‘Who?’
    My mind races back to the moment before I let the
holiday slip out. I’m going to take a brief mental holiday in that moment.
Things were alright in that moment. I love that moment and want to stay there
forever. Maybe buy a rambling old house there and do it up. OK – mental holiday
over.
    ‘If your father told me that he was going on a lovely
expensive holiday without me, I’d leave him. I’d have packed my bags before he
bought the plane ticket. Couples are meant to do things together. You’ve been
living together for ages now. Why do you think you’re not married yet? Has he
asked you? This is all your doing. We didn’t put you through university for your boyfriend to go off to
Greece.’
    Even though it was a student loan (which I’m still
paying off) that put me through university, not to mention my holiday jobs, I
can’t imagine the circumstances that would lead to your parents saying ‘We’ll
pay for you to go to university, but there’s one condition. We’re not going to
pay for it if you think there’ll ever be a time when you’ll have a boyfriend who
will go off to Greece. If that happens, don’t think we won’t bring it up later
on and make you feel really bad about it.’
    She rants on and on. She even manages to drag Hamish
into it, who I split up with years ago and whom she never met. I can imagine
being found dead here, still listening to this conversation. The police will
find a skeleton dressed in knickers and t-shirt with a phone clamped to its
ear. I feel slightly nauseous now and I’m going to have to curtail her inane
ramblings before I throw the phone out of the window and possibly jump after
it.
    ‘Well anyway, mum, thanks for calling. Lovely to hear from you. I really have to get back to work
now. Hope you feel better soon. Love to dad. See you later!’
    And slam the phone down now.
    I open the kitchen window, make a coffee and have
another ciggy. Damn you Mark. That whole conversation was your fault and now
I’m having a cigarette and that’s your fault, too.
    After a couple of minutes, I take several deep breaths
and get back to work. If the canvas was a lover, it would be saying ‘Please,
darling! Not so rough!’ I do so much work on it that I have to go into my paint
cupboard and get some more paint.
    When I’ve had lunch (coffee, cheese on toast, Aero,
fag), I stroll out to the hallway and take a look at my frenzied efforts. Actually