On Friday I spent the first part of the morning on the phone to my agent, Diane, on the web ordering materials, researching exhibitions and news – generally admin time for "what next?"
By 11 I was done, and was nursing a large mug of coffee as I wandered out into the garden and had a chat with Ken and Steve, the gardeners. Early summer and the garden was looking beautiful, vegetables coming along and flowers blooming. Patrician duties done, I strolled back to the house and picked up the mail. Amongst all the usual crap was a letter addressed to Kate from Joe. He always wrote, once a week, never failed. Never email, despite his free access to it from his work in Dubai. Kate always read his letters out loud to me – I assume that she censored the 'personal' parts of them. It was so much more personal and intimate; the fact that he had taken the time to sit down and write – although he addressed the letters solely to her he had clearly written them for both of us (or at least the parts she read to me).
I made a sandwich for lunch, ate it with a glass of home-brew, watching the lunch-time news. Why are people so stupid? You often hear politicians braying 'Never underestimate the intelligence of
's public' ... the truth is quite the opposite: never underestimate their stupidity.
In the afternoon, I took a sketchpad and pencil and went back into the garden, and spent the afternoon drawing. Landscape, close-ups of plants, trees, insects. Bliss. At four, Ken and Steve finished, and we adjourned to the kitchen for the usual end-of-week sampling of my ale before they went home.
I began preparing dinner for me and Kate; beef salad. Her Friday arrival time was varied, dependent on the duration of the end-of-week pub visit with her colleagues. She wandered in at 7.30.
"Hi!" I heard her call speculatively from the kitchen – I was in my living-room watching the end of Question Of Sport, the remains of my meal on the coffee table, a glass of Rioja in my hand.
"Hello!" I called back, switching off the TV. She wandered through. "Good day?" I asked.
"Not bad, although Gordon was hitting on me big-time in the pub." She slumped onto the sofa across from me, kicking off her heels and swinging her legs up; giving me a delicious glimpse of slim thigh as she did so.
"The perils of being a beautiful woman. Wine?"
"No, I didn't, just ignored him as politely as I could ... oh ... ha ha ..." she laughed as she saw me wiggling my wine glass "Yes please."
I took my tray back to the kitchen and poured us both a glass of wine. When I got back to the living room Kate was lying flat on the sofa, her eyes closed as if asleep. I paused as I set the wine glass down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, looking down at her. Hmm. She opened her eyes and caught me looking at her; she smiled, I tried not to look guilty by gesturing quickly to the wine.
"Your wine, m'am."
"Thanks." Still smiling as she swung her legs round and sat up, reaching for the glass. I returned to the kitchen and brought her supper through on a tray. She took it and tucked in hungrily.
"Thanks – this is good; I love your coleslaw and potato salad – the yoghurt gives it a nice tang."
We were silent as she ate – I put on a CD, Boccherini and Bach 'cello pieces. Finished, she put the tray on the table, sat back and rubbed and patted her belly in parody of a cartoon figure.
"Yum. Needed that."
"Good."
"Right, I'm going upstairs to change." With that she rose and took her tray back through to the kitchen.
The CD had just finished, and I was engrossed in my current book when she returned. She was wearing her long silk dressing gown, barefoot and with a freshly-scrubbed glow to her face. Her full breasts jiggled hypnotically as she walked, her nipples bulging the thin fabric in a most enticing way.
"Hi, is there any more of that wine?"
"Just a dribble – I'll open another."
I went to the kitchen and opened another bottle of the Burgundy. When I returned, she was sitting in her usual position on the sofa. The dressing gown had slipped off her left leg revealing a long, smooth thigh; she made no attempt to cover up, even when she caught me admiring it surreptitiously as I poured her wine.
"Thanks. Cheers."
I sat back down in my chair, picked up my sketch book and pencil and waved them at her.
"Mind if I sketch you?"
She smiled "No, I'd love that – I could send it to Joe."
She sat still, looking at me as I sketched. It took me half-an-hour.
"Ok. Come see."
She stood, and the lovely leg disappeared behind the silk. She came and stood beside me as I held the sketch book for her to see. She was silent for several seconds.
"Wow." She said quietly. "That's ... stunning."
"No, it's you who are stunning."
"Flatterer."
I looked up – she was bent over gazing intently at the sketch, her lips slightly parted and a faint flush lit up her perfect skin. I could smell the clean, delicately perfumed scent of her close beside me. She looked at me and smiled.
"Thanks – Joe will love it."
"I hope so. He's a very lucky man."
"Hmm. If only he were here to enjoy it."
I grinned up at her, and we shared a knowing look, then she shrugged. I tore the sheet out of the book and gave it to her and she walked back to the sofa.
"Right, I'm going to bed. What time do we have to go tomorrow?" I asked.
"The train's 11.15."
"Ok, good night."
"Good night. And thanks for the sketch."
I went to bed and slept like the dead.
The next morning we took the Aston to the station and caught the train to London. Kate was wearing a figure-hugging knee-length cream dress in a soft material, with a white linen jacket and cream high-heeled sandals. She looked
