The Road to Hell (37 page)

That should end the discussion, she thought, nodding her head to add authority to her pronouncement.

‘So,’ Mrs Melville said, unable to prevent herself from smiling widely, ‘it’s the one you should have, Celia. God knows, neither Alice nor I have your eye, your
appreciation. We thought it was . . . well, just a childish daub – but to you, and no doubt to others like you, it’s . . . well, I can’t begin to describe it as well as
you’ve done, but let’s just say, what? The acme of artistic accomplishment?’

‘Mmm . . . or fairly close to it, anyway,’ Celia answered, holding it up nearer to her face, closing one eye and, finally, committing herself beyond recall. ‘And you’re
right, I think I will take it.’

Alice glanced across the room at the old lady and gave her a surreptitious wink, getting in return a fleeting thumbs-up. At that moment, Hamish entered the room. He had a splodge of brown paint
on his forehead and his lips were covered in yellow, an oversized paintbrush sticking out of his mouth. In one hand he held a picture and, seeing Celia, he wandered up to her and dropped it at her
feet. It was another rainbow, this time composed of thick brown, yellow, black, grey and red stripes.

‘For you,’ he said. ‘Watch out, it’s wet. But it’ll go with my other one, won’t it?’