Spilt Milk by Amanda Hodgkinson Read Free Book Online Page B

of swans flew overhead and landed on the river, beating snowy wings, tiny curled feathers dislodging themselves, floating in the air. Vivian watched the birds arching their long necks, settling their pure-white plumage, pretty as china ornaments. Nellie always said if you saw a swan flying against the wind, no matter how bright the day, a bad storm would follow.
    ‘I’m going this way,’ she said, walking in the direction the swans had taken upriver. ‘Which way are you going?’
    ‘The same way as you,’ he replied, and fell into step with her.
    At the bend in the river where willows overhung the water, Joe suggested they sit down. Vivian agreed. She wanted to tell himshe would lay down her life for Nellie. That she would never let him steal her away.
    ‘How long do you intend to wear black?’ he asked her. ‘It’s so Victorian to be dressed in widow’s weeds for months on end. Heavens, we’re in the twentieth century now, Vivian, or hadn’t you noticed?’
    ‘I am well aware of that. I am grieving my sister Rose. And besides, we have always worn black to honour our parents’ memories.’
    ‘I would like to see you dressed in colours. Something to show off your pretty blonde hair.’ Joe began unpacking pencils and paper from his knapsack. ‘Can I draw you?’ He unrolled a piece of blue velvet which held reams of paper. ‘I’ve drawn your sister Nellie several times, but she fidgets. Just lift your head a little higher, could you? Beautiful. Thank you.’
    Vivian was surprised at her own obedience. She kept very still, just as he said. Beautiful? Only Nellie had ever called her beautiful. She wanted to see the drawing but he had the paper angled away from her.
    ‘So, you are leaving soon?’ she said after they had sat in silence for a while.
    ‘Yes, I’ll be on my way in a day or two.’
    The air was hot and sticky, and crickets buzzed in the long grass. The sound of his pencil strokes on paper was pleasant. Who would have thought such pleasure could be derived from being looked at by somebody?
    There was a loud splash in the river, and Vivian jumped. A quick flicker of silver hovered in the air above the water. A fish breaking the surface. It flashed like a secret catching the light, a shard of mirror that dazzled the eye and was gone, leaving ripples behind it. Vivian remembered why she was there. She took off her hat and wiped her face with a handkerchief.
    ‘She won’t go with you.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Nellie. She won’t go away with you.’
    ‘Go where?’
    Vivian felt the sun burning her face. She had never spoken so frankly. She could hear the shrillness in her voice. ‘Are you pretending you didn’t ask Nellie to go with you? Tell me, do you love all women like this? Do you promise them things and then leave? Is that it?’
    Joe said he hadn’t promised anything. And as for love, he certainly never promised that to anybody.
    ‘So you don’t love her?’
    Joe put down his pencil. ‘What do you know of love, Vivian? I’ve seen you watching me while I’m working in the fields. Standing under the trees near my tent. I’ve seen the way you look at me.’ His voice slowed. ‘I like to look at you too. I was sure you knew that when you met me this afternoon, pretending it was by chance.’
    Vivian snatched up the drawing. He had paid more attention to the fine execution of her mended boots and patched skirts than to her face, which was softly shaded and indistinct, her eyes downcast under her tatty straw boater.
    ‘How can you be so heartless? You’ve made me look like a pauper.’
    ‘What you choose to see is what you want to find. Keep the drawing. Throw it in the river if it displeases you. To me it’s a portrait of simple beauty. You are beautiful as you are, but you don’t see it.
    ‘Wait,’ he said, catching hold of her arm as she got up to leave. ‘Stay. I’m a careless oaf. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You are lovely. You’re so very lovely. Please, just stay.