Read Online Vicki's Work of Heart by Rosie Dean - Free Book Online

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    Through one of the surgery windows, I could see Christophe’s partner, Philippe, talking to Louise. Philippe was heavy-set, with a face like a young Gerard Depardieu, but without the 1970’s hairstyle. Perhaps they knew where Christophe was. Not that it was important. He wasn’t obliged to be around to eat every meal with me. But it would be nice to know if he was planning on coming home for dinner. I sipped at my coffee, mulling over my morning’s work. There was no denying it – my sketches were stilted and dull. That’s what comes of spending three years teaching the effect of viewpoint on elipses,  or shading technique and reflected light…I’d completely lost spontaneity in my own work.
    I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. Thoughts of Marc and what he might be doing snuck into my brain. I’d heard he’d moved on from Barbados to Miami. And guess who lived there – Maxine Dewar – she of the double tongue piercing. That really niggled me. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to invite her to the wedding. He’d said she wasn’t ‘into weddings’ so why bother? She definitely wasn’t into my wedding, any more than he was. Maxine did sculpture. She’d always been the wild one in our group. By the time she completed her degree, she’d had twenty-two piercings. I supposed they might come in handy for hanging her tools on.
    I still didn’t know whether Marc had made his decision to leave at the last minute, or planned it months ahead. Word had filtered through he’d felt pressured into the wedding; he would have been happy staying as we were. Oh, really? I thought. If that were true, where was he now? He could have talked it over with me and not taken the coward’s way out. But that was Marc – never one to confront anything. He’d duck around a problem, sweep it under the carpet, never see anything to a conclusion. Where as I…I what?
    It’s not like I’d spotted his reluctance. I sure as hell hadn’t been looking for it. We were a team, I’d thought, with me calling the shots, rallying the troops, saving the cash…
    Yes. I was the kind of girl who saw things through to the bitter end. I was not a quitter.
    I sighed. After everything Marc had done, I was surprised I couldn’t hate him – not after spending so long in love with him. He’d always had this irresistible charm – even when he was totally in the wrong, he could make me laugh so I’d forgive him. I smiled a watery smile and groaned. ‘May the universe deliver me from charming men.’
    As I walked back across the courtyard, I could hear the unmistakable sound of a girl crying. It was coming from the surgery. A client grieving over the demise of a much-loved pet, perhaps? I paused. No, that was definitely Louise’s voice I could hear between the sobs. Curious. Had it been her voice I’d overheard on the phone, last night? But why would she be crying on the phone to Christophe? No, surely it had been the ex calling? This idea nudged another thought into my mind – was Christophe the kind of guy who might use my stay to manipulate the women in his life?
    I nodded to myself. Sure, he could be.
    That pulled me up short. If my suspicions were right, it did put my sabbatical on a rather shaky footing.
    I made myself a sandwich of goat’s cheese and tomato, and tramped slowly back up to my studio, where I stared disconsolately at my sketches. So much for my new life. And it was hard to imagine a ticker-tape welcome on my return to Bristol, as I sloped down Victoria Street, shoulders drooping and an empty portfolio at my side.
    I stared at the wall for ages, fighting my doubts with positive affirmations – that tell-tale prickle in the back of my nose threatening tears. Had I been kidding myself I could get over the storm of Marc’s departure so easily?
    Downstairs, the dogs began barking.
    ‘Allo!’ a man’s voice called.
    I wiped my face with my hands and sniffed, before running down the first flight of stairs.