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That same weekend Dorothy had accompanied Arthur and Larry to visit Arthur's parents. Arthur, aided and abetted by Larry, had persuaded her to bring her painting of the stream with her.
Harriet, Arthur's mother, was entranced by it. "It's stunning," she exclaimed. "Light and dark, the trees on the bank but, most of all, the movement."
Dorothy embarrassedly smiled and shrugged. "Thank you," she said. "Having seen the painting you did which Arthur's got that means a lot to me."
"The movement, Granny," asked Larry excitedly. "How did she get that?"
"I don't know, Larry. I've never painted a stream so I just don't know. Can't Dorothy tell you?"
"No, I asked her."
Dorothy shook her head. "I don't know either," she said. "The stream is moving but the colours of the stones don't change except their shades as the water moves over them and then there's spray and that's easy because you can see its shape but..." She shrugged. "Somehow it just all came together."
"And quite beautifully, my dear. Sensationally so."
They looked at a number of Harriet's paintings hung round the house and Dorothy was very impressed. One stood out. It was of a cow, a Friesian, standing quarter on, chewing.
"I can't believe she posed for you," said Dorothy, "but it looks like it."
Harriet smiled. "No," she said, "but I took a photo of her on my mobile of all things and it came out beautifully so I painted the lady.
Dorothy shook her head in disbelief.
"I'll show you the photo," laughed Harriet and led her to a shed in the garden where she had a blown up print of the cow.
"My studio," she said. "I have the shed in this family."
It was only a portrait sized print but Dorothy could see how Harriet had been able to develop it. The shed was no ordinary garden shed. The walls had been insulated and strip lights installed. There was also a blower heater. She was impressed.
Andrew, Harriet's husband, did indeed enjoy himself hosting a pretty young woman as Arthur had said he would. Arthur stood back and watched happily. They left after tea and Arthur could not have been happier. Dorothy just seemed to fit in with his family and they clearly liked her.
Arthur asked her to come home for supper but Dorothy gently declined and Arthur realised that she was quite right. He was rushing her when there was no rush. The more he got to know her though the more he liked her and he felt that she enjoyed his company too.
Larry clearly liked her and chattered away happily and naturally to her in the car as Arthur drove her home. Equally, she seemed completely at ease with him. When they stopped outside her house she said goodbye to Larry first and then turned to Arthur.
"Thank you, Arthur. I've really enjoyed myself and I like your parents very much."
Arthur smiled warmly and happily. "Good. May I give you a ring in a day or two?"
"Of course you may," she smiled back. She leant across the car and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thanks again, Arthur." Then she was gone apart from giving a friendly wave as she went in through her front door.
Harriet rang that evening. "Your father and I liked that girl and she's clearly a very talented painter. I hope you bring her to see us again."
"So do I, Mum."
"Ah!" Harriet chuckled. "That's the answer I was looking for."
"Mum! Stop match-making."
"As if I would." Arthur could almost see her eyes dancing.
"You're an interfering old busybody.
"It's a mother's prerogative."
"Not when their son's in his mid-thirties."
"Even more so. Senility's starting to set in."
Arthur laughed. "You're incorrigible."
"Absolutely. 'Bye, darling."
The telephone went down before he could reply. Arthur smiled and shook his head. "How I love her," he thought.
Isobel could not help but continue to ponder the letter Gerry had written. She was not going to change her mind but gradually a thought took shape. Statistics indicated that he would probably die before her but if she left everything to him or his successors it would show she really had cared deeply for him. If something happened to her like a fatal car accident then he would know.
On Wednesday she drew up a will and then took it to Henry to witness. He was alarmed.
"You're not considering doing something stupid are you, Isobel dear?"
"No," she smiled and told him her reasoning adding, "There's no one else I want to leave anything to. Anyway I can always change it if I change my mind."
"All right," said resignedly. "It's up to you." He witnessed her signature.
Isobel handed the will to Merle and asked her to make a copy for her and then file the original. Merle noted Henry's signature. She would not have to report to Eleanor as Mr Honey already knew. Merle had been very perturbed typing it.
On Friday evening Gerry drove home from London. He stopped off at the Crown for a drink. It had not really started to fill up so he was able to chat to Jenny.
"When are you going to bring that pretty blonde girl in again?" she asked.
"I won't be. She's given me the boot."
"Oh Gerry, I'm sorry. I thought she seemed quite keen on you."
"I hoped so too but she won't commit herself to anyone. I've tried pleading and arguing with her but she won't give in."
"Something pretty serious must have happened to her."
"Two."
"Are you going to try again?"
"Yes but I'm going to give it a while for it to settle in that she misses me which I know she does. She told me so."
"Oh Gerry, that's miserable for both of you. I'll keep my fingers crossed."
"Thanks." Gerry smiled ruefully. He polished off his pint.
"Will we see you tomorrow?"
"Doubt it but we'll probably be in en famille for lunch on Sunday."
As Gerry was speaking Isobel was sitting at home missing him greatly. It had been creeping up on her all week. She had planned to finish off the hall before she went over to the Honeys' the next day but could raise no enthusiasm.
"It would be so much more fun with Gerry here to help," she thought, "but it was me who turned him away so I've just got to get on and make the best of it. I never ought to have gone out to lunch with him after our first meeting or to the hockey after visiting Arthur. I led him on. No, I didn't. Not with the lunches. It was going to Butterfly and the hockey. Oh, Isobel, you bloody fool. You never ought to have let him into your life. You should have known better. But I like him ... very much. So more fool you. You should have seen the position you were going to get yourself into."
And so it went on all evening. She had a bad night again and woke unhappy in the morning. She did nothing about the dining room but moped round until she pushed herself to get ready and go over to the Honeys' for lunch.
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