Melanie said, ‘I think that went well, don’t you?’
‘I’m not sure I’ve converted anyone.’
She laughed. ‘Possibly not. The older you get, the more stuck in your ways you become. This lot – me included – grew up believing that drawing and painting involved pencils and paints. One or two might give it a go, though. But even so, I don’t think I’m going to be out of a job any time soon. It’s the next generation I worry about. Everything is electronic and digital these days – they won’t know what a paintbrush is. Not when it comes to art. Houses still need to be painted. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody somewhere doesn’t invent a way to digitally change the colour of your sitting room walls. Anyway, like I said, I think my students found it interesting. And thank you for signing my grandson’s copy ofThe Elephant Who Forgot. I love the way all your books have a message. I think that’s why they’re so popular.’ She paused for breath, and Mark took a deep one of his own.
Melanie was lovely, but she couldn’t half talk!
She was off again. ‘How is the new one coming along? I heard you’d come to Picklewick for a bit of peace and quiet to write it. I bet you haven’t found the village as quiet as you’d like if that’s the case, what with dressing up as the Grinch at the farm, visiting the school and now this.’ She chuckled. ‘I wonder what you’ll get up to next? Helping with the nativity play at the stables? They have one every Christmas, you know. The old people love it.’
‘Old people?’ He had a worrying vision of a group of OAPs on horseback.
‘Yes, the kids at the stables put on a play and the residents of Honeymead Care Home go every year to watch – the ones that can manage it, that is. They have a lovely time. And the ones that can’t, are shown it via the internet, on the TV. The staffare ever so good. I should know because my mother is in there. Dementia. So sad. That’s whyThe Elephant Who Forgotis so special. It helps Joey, that’s my grandson, understand why his Gan-Gan doesn’t know who he is sometimes.’
Mark smiled. ‘Glad it’s of help.’ He hoped his next book would be as useful. They weren’t just for entertainment: he wanted to help educate young minds, too.
‘How are you enjoying being back in Picklewick?’ she asked. ‘I understand you grew up here. From what I can gather, it hasn’t changed much. Mind you, villages like this don’t, do they? That’s their charm. I used to live in Thornbury, but I moved here a couple of years ago when I retired. You wouldn’t believe it, but I’m busier now than I was when I was working. I’ve always loved art. Would have liked to do it full-time but it didn’t pay the bills. Now I’ve retired, I can paint all day if I want. Apart from Tuesday afternoons, when I run this art class, and Mondays when I—’
‘I’m sorry to interrupt but I’ve got to get back. A call with my editor.’ Mark was fibbing, and he felt bad about that, especially when Melanie was so nice about it.
‘Of course, I mustn’t keep you. You’re a busy man and you’ve been so generous with your time. Thank you, again.’ She clasped her hands over her heart. ‘We really appreciate it.’
Despite Melanie chewing his ear off at the end, Mark found he’d enjoyed giving the demonstration. They had been an enthusiastic and interested group, and had made him feel very welcome.
In fact, everyone he’d met in the village had been friendly and welcoming. He was beginning to wonder why he’d ever left!
Why was she so nervous? This was ridiculous. It was only a meal.
‘You look nice, Mummy.’
‘Thank you, sweetie.’ Beatrice glanced at Sadie through the mirror and smiled.
‘Are you going out with Aunty Lisa?’
‘No, with Mark, the man who writes the books, the one who we had a meal with on Friday.’
‘Is he your boyfriend?’
‘No!’ Realising she’d said that rather sharply, she smiled at her daughter again. ‘He’s not my boyfriend. I’m doing him a favour, that’s all.’
‘What kind of favour?’
‘I’m having a meal with him in The Wild Side, that nice restaurant on the high street, because he doesn’t want to eat dinner on his own.’
‘Is he lonely?’
‘Maybe.’ Beatrice hadn’t considered that.
‘Doesn’t he have any friends?’
‘Not in Picklewick.’
‘Wecan be his friends. He can eat dinner here, then he wouldn’t have to eat on his own.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why not? Doesn’t he like us?’
‘He likes us fine. Get into your pyjamas before Nana and Grandad arrive.’
