One Step at a Time (23 page)

It had been an eventful few months and the time had just flown by. Ben was still seeing Sally now and again, but the only time they ever saw her was when she came to the shop. She was clearly in love with Ben, but none of them could quite work out how he felt about the pretty fair-haired girl with hazel eyes. The shop was still doing well. Trade fluctuated though: some weeks they sold quite a lot; others, almost nothing. Still, they were paying their way and they all had a little money in their pockets now. The amount in Amy’s old teapot was mounting up, and she was very happy, loving the work she was doing. But best of all, she was helping Ben and Howard earn a reasonable living, and that gave her the greatest
joy. Her only sadness was that although her reading had improved, it was still a laborious task. Over the last few months she had begun, reluctantly, to accept that, no matter how hard she tried, she would never read and write like the others. It caused her great frustration, but she knew now that it would always be like this. It was something she had to live with.

‘This fruit bowl is such a beautiful blue.’

A customer claiming her attention brought her out of her musing. ‘Yes, it is lovely.’

‘It will look just right on my sideboard, so I’ll have to buy it.’

Amy smiled and wrapped it for her, aware that someone else had come into the shop. After giving the customer her change, Amy looked up, her mouth opening in surprise.

‘Mr Sterling.’ He looked tired, but the easy smile and startling blue eyes were still the same. ‘Do you want another painting?’

He shook his head. ‘No. I wondered if you had half an hour to spare for a cup of coffee?’

‘Oh, I don’t think…’

‘Please, Amy. I wanted to come sooner, but I’ve had exams and been working very hard. There’s hardly been time to sleep, let alone come to see you.’

She didn’t have the heart to turn him down and, if she was honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was hard to believe how pleased she was to see him again after all these months. ‘Ben’s upstairs; I’ll go and see if he can manage without me for a while.’

‘Ah, he must be the artist who painted the picture I bought.’ John headed for the stairs. ‘I’ll go and have a word with him.’

It was nearly an hour before they came down, talking and laughing like old friends.

Ben glanced at his watch. ‘You might as well take an hour, Amy, and have lunch with John.’

A cup of coffee she didn’t mind, but not lunch. She wasn’t being given a choice though, and that made her purse her lips in annoyance. ‘Do you two know each other?’

‘Only just met.’ Ben leant against the banister, amusement glinting in his eyes. ‘I’m quite capable of looking after the shop all by myself.’

If John Sterling hadn’t been there watching with interest, she would have walloped Ben. It would only have made him laugh, of course, but she could tell by his expression that he was well aware that he was pushing her into something she wasn’t keen on doing. Tipping her head to one side, she looked back at John. ‘If I have lunch with you, are you going to buy another painting?’

‘Ben said he’s got another one of you I might like.’

‘He’s got dozens!’ She glared at Ben, her eyes warning him not to do this to her. He was going too far with his teasing this time. John was a very attractive man, but she didn’t want to get too friendly. Once he found out certain things about her, he would run like hell, and that would hurt. She wondered if this fear would ever leave her. But to have someone
she liked and respected turn away from her in disgust would tear her apart. The only way was not to let some people get too close.

‘I’ll have plenty to choose from then.’ John’s lips twitched at her obvious disapproval. ‘I might even buy that large bowl you’ve got in the window.’

‘Oh, well, in that case…’ She lifted her hands in surrender. She could never be angry with Ben for more than five minutes, and he knew it. ‘I must warn you, Mr Sterling, that I’m
very
hungry.’

‘So am I.’ He shot Ben a sly wink before ushering her out of the door, giving her no chance to change her mind.

She thought they were going to the café again, but John had other ideas. He walked past it, turned left down a side road and stopped outside a smart restaurant. It was hard to control her groan. He didn’t seem to be a struggling trainee doctor, and she would never be able to read a menu in a place like this! Simple meals were easy enough for her to decipher, but there wouldn’t be anything simple here. She kept all this to herself, trying not to let the worry show on her face. It had been some time since she’d had to make up excuses to hide the fact that she couldn’t read properly.

‘The food’s very good here.’ He held the door open for her.

And expensive, she thought, walking into the dimly lit restaurant and wishing they were back at the humble café. Just wait till she got her hands on Ben later!

They were shown a table at once, and as soon as the menu was placed in front of her, she knew she had been right. Not only was it complicated, but it was in another language. The English was in brackets under each item, but she was far too tense to be able to read it.

‘What are you going to have?’

No way was she going to struggle with that! Closing the menu and placing it back on the table, she managed a smile. ‘You choose for me.’

‘All right.’ He looked quite pleased, then rattled off a few names. ‘How does that sound?’

‘Wonderful.’ She had no idea that food could be so complicated. ‘But don’t forget I’ve only got an hour.’

He laughed. ‘The service is fast.’

It would need to be if they were going to eat that much. She was sorry now that she had told him how hungry she was.

‘Would you like wine with your meal?’ John asked.

She shook her head in horror, remembering what the champagne had done to her. Never again! ‘Just water, please.’

As the meal progressed, she began to relax in his company, just as she had the first time they had met. They talked about his studies and hopes for the future, the shop, and general things. He was easy, relaxing company.

They had thin soup first, then fish with a lovely sauce over it, followed by steak and various vegetables.
When offered something from the array of gorgeous puddings and cakes, she reluctantly refused, knowing she couldn’t eat another thing, and it was no good trying to force it down. The food had been a revelation to her, but she had enjoyed every mouthful.

When they arrived back at the shop, she rushed up to Ben and told him how sorry she was. Lunch had taken an hour and a half.

‘Don’t worry about it, Amy.’ Ben waved away her apologies. ‘Did you enjoy your meal?’

‘It was lovely.’

‘Good, that’s all that matters.’ Ben smiled at John. ‘I’ll take a break now. See you tonight, John.’

‘About seven?’

‘Fine.’ Ben strode out.

‘Now, Amy, show me that bowl, will you? My mother loved the vase.’

He bought it, and while she was wrapping it, she asked, ‘Are you going out somewhere with Ben tonight?’

‘No.’ He handed over the money. ‘I’m coming to your house to see the paintings he’s got in his studio.’

The bowl nearly slipped out of her hands in surprise.

‘He’s very good and I’d like to see what else he paints. They are all landscapes and flowers on show upstairs.’

‘That’s because they sell quite well.’ Amy finished the parcel and handed it to him. ‘But he does paint other things.’

‘I look forward to seeing them.’ He studied her
carefully for a few moments. ‘He told me he has a lovely portrait of you.’

‘Oh, you don’t want that!’ She was glad she wasn’t holding something delicate at that moment or it would surely have shattered on the floor. She didn’t like the idea of someone having a big picture of her face on their wall, and Ben had assured her he would never sell that painting.

John merely smiled. ‘I’ll see you tonight, then.’

Just wait till you get back, Ben. I’m going to have a few words with you!

It was an hour before Ben returned to the shop and at the time Amy was too busy to talk to him, but as soon as there was a quiet time, she cornered him.

‘You’re not going to sell my portrait to John, are you? You told me you wouldn’t part with it.’ She gazed at him imploringly. ‘I don’t think I would like my picture on someone else’s wall. He doesn’t know about me, and if he found out, he would hate the picture… and me.’

Ben’s expression was sad. ‘No he wouldn’t, Amy. You were not responsible for what your father did.’

‘I know, but I don’t want him to have it. Please, Ben.’

‘I won’t part with it, Amy, I promise.’ He ran his large hand over her hair. ‘Don’t worry. I would never do anything to upset you.’

She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I know.’ Of course he wouldn’t.

‘I believe John Sterling is a good man, and he likes you very much. Give him a chance.’

Amy chewed her lip and frowned. ‘I’m afraid to.’

‘Then tell him everything about yourself. I’m sure it won’t make any difference.’

‘No, no I can’t.’

Right on the dot of seven, John arrived, and Mrs Dalton brought him into the kitchen where they were all gathered. It was a favourite spot now.

‘Let me introduce you to everyone, Mr Sterling.’ Mrs Dalton made him sit down. ‘The man at the end with his nose stuck in a book as usual, is Ted Andrews; Benjamin Scott you’ve met; next to him is Howard Palmer, the sculptor, and Amy Carter you also know.’

John looked confused. ‘But you all have different surnames. Amy said Ben and Howard were her brothers.’

It took Mrs Dalton twenty minutes to explain the unusual set-up of the house. ‘So you see, John – I may call you that?’

He nodded.

‘We consider ourselves a family, and the boys are like brothers to my dear Amy.’

Amy was relieved when Mrs Dalton didn’t go into details of how she came to be with them.

‘Now you’ve met everyone, come up and have a look at the paintings.’ Ben unfolded himself from the chair. ‘Then I’ll take you to see Howard’s workshop and some of his special pieces.’

*

‘That’s beautiful.’ John gazed at the portrait of Amy, mesmerized by the skill of the artist in depicting such an unusual and arresting face. ‘How much do you want for it?’

Ben turned round from propping pictures up on the bench for John to see. ‘That isn’t for sale.’

Tearing his gaze away from the portrait, John frowned. ‘Name your price.’

‘Two hundred pounds.’ Ben grinned and went back to his task.

‘I’ll take it.’

Ben spun back to face John. ‘Whoa! I was only joking.’

‘I’m not. I’ll get you cash first thing in the morning, or you can have a cheque now.’

‘That’s tempting.’ Ben ran a hand through his hair in astonishment. ‘The one you bought was of a young girl sitting by the river, and unless you looked carefully, it could be anyone. But this is a full head and shoulders portrait. It’s the first I ever did of her, and rather special. I don’t know that I could part with it, and I promised Amy I wouldn’t sell.’ He gave a quiet chuckle. ‘She thinks she’s got a funny face and doesn’t like the idea of it being on someone’s wall.’

‘And you won’t break your word.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Never.’ He leant against the bench, his expression serious. ‘She’d had a tough life before she came here.’

John studied Ben intently. ‘In what way?’

‘It isn’t my story to tell.’

‘No, of course not.’ John studied the painting again and sighed with regret. ‘You’ve painted her with such love, and it shows.’

‘I do love her.’ He looked pointedly at John. ‘But my feelings for her are as a brother.’

‘And you’d do anything to protect her, even turn down two hundred pounds for a painting.’

‘Yes, even that, and if you knew the courage she has shown, and is still showing, then you would understand.’ Ben clenched his hands as he remembered how they had found her beside her mother’s grave, forlorn and desperate. He didn’t believe he would ever forget that day. It was imprinted on his mind like a bad nightmare that wouldn’t go away.

‘I like her, Ben, and I won’t hurt her.’

‘You’d better not, or you will have to face four very angry people.’ He pushed away from the bench, relaxed and smiling again. ‘Do you want to have a look at the other paintings?’

‘Of course, that’s what I came for.’

Ben raised a quizzical brow. ‘Really? I thought you came to see Amy?’

‘That too.’

After about an hour every picture had been examined carefully and John eventually chose a painting of the Thames from the Richmond Terraces. Ben had captured the panoramic view superbly.

‘How much?’

‘Twenty pounds.’

John gave him twenty-five. ‘Could I commission you to do a painting for me? My parents live in a very nice Georgian house near East Meon in Hampshire. It’s their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in three months’ time and I’d like to give them something special. Would you do a painting of the house for me?’

‘I could do that.’ Ben fished out a pad and pencil from the drawer and pushed it towards John. ‘Give me the address and instructions how to find it. I’d have to go and have a look, make some sketches and maybe take a few photographs as well.’

He watched John as he wrote down the instructions, suddenly realizing that this was no struggling student doctor. Still, he didn’t want to take advantage of that fact. He liked John Sterling. ‘How long will it take to get there by car?’

‘Well, I can make it in just under an hour and a half. Depends how fast you drive.’

‘Too fast, according to Howard.’ Ben nodded. ‘Allowing for the time and travelling, it will cost you around thirty-five pounds.’

‘That’s fine.’ John’s smile was one of pleasure. ‘My parents will be delighted to have a painting by you. They greatly admired the one in my flat when they visited; in fact my mother wanted to take it home with her. Will you be able to do this without them knowing?’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Ben chuckled. ‘Is there any shrubbery for me to hide in?’

‘If you get down on your knees you might be able to hide.’ John grinned as he eyed the tall man in front of him. ‘If they do see you, for goodness’ sake don’t tell them your name or they’ll guess I’m behind your visit.’