Restoring Grace (29 page)

At the same time as she wondered how on earth
she could get the information she needed from him, she marvelled that he was
managing to eat an egg mayon
naise roll
without making any mess at all. 'Well, now I've
done that for you, and
you took me on for two weeks, could we do something to do with pictures?’

Ran looked at her rather warily. 'You've got to
be extremely careful. You shouldn't go near anything if you haven't got the
right qualifications.'

‘
But
getting them would be a huge commitment of time
and money,' Ellie
pointed out as politely as possible.

He frowned. 'If you're not willing to commit
your time, picture restoration is not for you. You saw me with the cotton bud.
I will go over the entire painting with cotton buds, possibly with several
different chemicals. It's not something you can rush.'

‘No, I see that, and I am a careful and patient
person, normally. It's just . .

‘What?’

She was very tempted to
tell him. It would make life
so, much
simpler. Had she promised Grace she wouldn't?
She
didn't think so. Randolph Frazier was not going to tell anyone Grace knew, and
it was unlikely he would
report her to the
National Trust, despite Grace's fears. In
essence, Ellie knew she had promised, but it was a
promise she
might allow herself to break.

‘
Hmm?' he prompted, his mouth full.

‘
It takes ages to apply for things. What with the baby and
everything, I need to sort my life out.’

He regarded her sceptically, as if he wasn't
quite
convinced. 'I can see that, but it's
still not something you
can just rush into on a whim.'

‘
I know it
must seem like that to you, but really, it's
not a whim.'

‘No?'

‘
No. I'd be really
interested to know - for example -
how you'd deal with some really old wooden panels.’

‘Would you
now?'

‘
Yeah. Just as an example, you understand.’

He sighed, a much
beleaguered man. 'OK. After lunch,
when you've
washed your hands, I'll show you a bit more.
But you must promise not to touch anything in the studio,
but nothing! If you do, you're out on your ear and I'll tell
every
picture restorer in the country not to let you near them.'

‘That would be very unkind, after I cleared out
your cellar.' She tried a winning smile.

‘I'm not paid to be kind.’

Ellie retreated into her baguette. When they
had both
finished, Ran stood up and walked
over to the door. 'OK, come into the studio, don't touch anything, and I'll
show
you a few techniques. Why are
you so interested in
wooden panels? Have you got one you want to restore
yourself? It's not amateur work, you know,
unless it's just
some bit of junk you picked up in a car-boot sale.’

Because she was still annoyed and very tired
after clearing out the cellar, Ellie didn't give her brain quite long enough
before she let her mouth engage. 'I did not
buy
them at a car-boot sale!' she snapped as she followed
him back to the
studio.

‘So there's more than one of them? You picked
them
up in a junk shop, then. Or did your
dear old Auntie
Ethel leave them to you?’

‘No! In fact, they're not even mine.’

Ran frowned. 'Are they interesting? Have a
seat. Over
there, out of the way.' He
settled Ellie in a stylish but not
very
comfortable chair. Out of the window was a fantastic
view of hills and
meadows. She stared at it moodily, wondering if it was her hormones that were
making her so irritable, or Ran. It was probably both.

‘
Tell me
about these paintings. They're probably
rubbish, you know, not worth
restoring.’

Ellie
sighed. 'I think the owner probably wishes they
were rubbish, except that she needs the money.’

‘
What are they
of?’

Ellie frowned. 'Why? What's the subject matter
got to do with anything?’

He sipped his coffee.
'It'll give me some idea about
them. They could be scenes from
nursery rhymes, or something. If you don't know anything about painting, I
can't really ask you much about that, can I?'

‘I have a degree in Creative Arts, you know. I
do know something about it!'

‘It doesn't follow. I wish you'd stop
prevaricating and tell me about these pictures.’

Not sure if she knew what prevaricating was,
Ellie decided that the truth was the least exhausting option. 'You've got to
promise not to tell a living soul - I have already promised and broken it, but
I think it's best.’

He sighed, obviously bored and unimpressed by
her dramatic statement.

‘
I think
they're probably by someone really important.’

Ran raised an eyebrow which was the epitome of
scepticism. 'So do most people who own paintings. They're almost always wrong.'

‘Well, I'm not! They've been hidden in an
absolutely ancient house for ever, and the painting is superb. They are not
daubs!'

‘
What sort of condition are they in?'

‘
Bad. Which is why I
wanted to work with you. There's
a mouse hole for one thing, plus some
of the paint has flaked off and there might be dry rot any minute.'

‘What do you mean, any minute?'

‘
There's dry
rot in the room above and we think it might
have got down into the paintings. Which is why this is
all so
urgent. My friend needs to get the dry rot in the house seen to, and probably
the only way to raise the
money is to sell
the paintings. Well, they won't get
anything like what they might be
worth in their present condition.' She scowled at him. 'Even I, a mere Creative
Arts graduate, know that.'

‘What's the subject matter?'

‘Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, I think.
But they're quite – explicit. No fig leaves. Adam . . . well, he has . . .' Her
voice trailed off.

‘Spit it out, woman. Do you mean he has an
erection?'

‘
Yes.'
Ellie, who'd lived with artists, who'd even
modelled naked herself,
found herself blushing. It was because of Ran, she knew it. She was sexually
attracted
to him. Which was a shame,
because the chances that he
should feel similarly were nil. She was
scruffy, grubby
after cleaning out his
cellar, and pregnant, none of which
attributes were exactly attractive.
Besides, she had to concentrate, she mustn't let her mind wander from the
reason she was here.

‘I'd really have to see them to make any sort
of judge
ment. They do sound interesting
though, if they're as old
as you think they are.’

Ellie considered. How
would Grace feel if Ellie took
this man to see the paintings, the
paintings that were supposed to be a deadly secret? Not good. And Ellie's
protective instincts for Grace were at least equal to her feelings for the
paintings. 'I don't think that's possible,' she said cautiously.

‘
Well, there's nothing I can do to help then, is
there?’

‘I could
tell you about them.'

‘
My dear girl,' he said in a way that Ellie found
patronising and alarmingly erotic at the same time, 'you could tell me about
every flower and baby animal and I still wouldn't have a clue as to their age,
their condition or anything that would help me to help you restore them.
That was why you came here, wasn't it? To learn
from
me so you could restore them yourself?’

He made it seem like
stealing. 'I'm sorry. It's Grace, she
doesn't
want anyone to know about the paintings. If it was up to her she'd just sell
them as they are—'

‘Why don't you let her do that?'

‘
Because she
needs the money! They won't fetch
anything like their proper value as
they are now. And
even if she was willing to
have them properly restored
she
couldn't afford to pay for it – not until she'd sold the
pictures,
anyway.’

Ran was silent for a moment. 'If they are
really interesting I'd be willing to do them on those terms. But I do have to
see the bloody things.’

Ellie thought hard. 'There
is a way. My friend is a wine expert and she's going to do tastings, with food,
as a way
of earning money. You
could come to one and I could slip
you in to see the paintings.'

‘What, between the claret and the Sancerre?'

‘
Something
like that. It's not ideal, I know, but if she'd
already met you, she
might feel better about you seeing the paintings once we tell her – if you're
interested in restoring them.'

‘
So I'd
have to pay for the privilege of helping you with
these things?'

‘
I'm afraid
so. If I told Grace who you were before she'd
met you she might not let you across the threshold! I love
her,
I really do, but I don't know her all that well. I can't take chances.'

‘
She sounds highly neurotic.'

‘
She's not. She's just had a tough time lately. Her
husband left her, her brother and sister took all
her furni
ture and she was living in a very old, very large, very
lovely house, all on her own, before I met her.
Now there's
me and her ex-stepdaughter living there as well.'

‘
You've
obviously taken her under your wing. Maternal
type, are you?'

‘I'd better be. Now, will you come? I'll get on
to Grace to organise a wine tasting quite quickly.'

‘
I suppose
so. But if these paintings are rubbish, I will
be extremely cross and
extract a hideous revenge from you.’

These unpromising words had a disturbing effect
on Ellie's stomach. 'What would that be? Cleaning out your cellars for the rest
of my life?'

‘I've only got one cellar and you've cleaned
that out already. I'll think of something else.’

Ellie looked at the floor, aware that she was
blushing and hoping that he wouldn't notice. 'Well, let me know.
But I assure you the paintings aren't rubbish.'
She looked
up. 'I may have given you the best commission of your entire
life.'

‘In which case you want a reward?’

Ellie nodded, a smile which refused to be
suppressed twitching at the corner of her mouth. 'I'll think of something.’

She already knew what she wanted. A lovely,
uncomplicated, entirely physical affaire; no falling in love, no heartbreak, no
pain on either side. And Ran would be ideal. Pity he didn't seem to fancy her
at all.

Then she considered for a
minute. Right now she must look like a grubby art student, but she didn't
always look
like that. In fact, it could be said that she
scrubbed up
nicely. If she got him to
Luckenham House, and she was
properly
dressed and made up, he might not be nearly
so resistant to her charms. And he really was the perfect
choice
for her last fling. She was very thoughtful as she cleared up the lunch things.

*

While Ellie
was cleaning out Randolph Frazier's cellar, Grace was having an action replay
with her sister, who had hired a taxi to the house to pick up her car and to
talk seriously to Grace about the dry rot.

She insisted on showing it
to Grace. Not, she explained,
out of sadism,
but so Grace would thoroughly under
stand the extent and urgency of the
problem. Grace had been hoping that Allegra would just get into her car and
drive away, a hope increased when she refused refreshment.

‘No, darling, I've just had some excellent
coffee, so I won't have your instant. Let's just have a look at the problem and
then I must go. I was planning to leave my hotel immediately after breakfast,
but I thought I would
have had a look at it
by then.' Allegra gave Grace a glance
of gentle but definite reproof
which meant she blamed Grace, most unfairly, for her hangover.