Page 39 of A Sky Painted Gold

“Hmm.” Alice wrinkles her nose. “I’m not sure. It sounds like they want you around, so maybe?”

“I think I’m a bit of a novelty,” I mutter then, forcing myself to say the words, thinking back to what Bernie had said about new being interesting, about that feeling of being on display. I don’t really want to dwell on it too much.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Alice agrees. “I doubt they spend a lot of time with farmers’ daughters.”

I definitely don’t like that. It sounds too close to what Aunt Irene said.

“Things like that don’t matter any more,” I say again, though without as much conviction.

“Well, not as much as they used to, no,” Alice says, and we drink our tea in silence for several moments.

“Alice…” I begin tentatively. “Do you ever think about, I don’t know, leaving Penlyn?”

Alice frowns. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“Well,” I say slowly. “You love clothes so much, you could go and see things, you could work in a shop or for a designer.”

Alice laughs. “Oh, yes?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “And what about the small matter of my husband?”

“He could go with you,” I suggest.

Alice is shaking her head. “Are you being serious?” She looks puzzled. “Jack’s a fisherman, Lou. He’s going to inherit his father’s business. Why would we go somewhere else?”

“For you!” I exclaim. “So that you could do something exciting!”

“I am doing something exciting,” Alice says simply. “I don’t want to leave Penlyn. I like it here. What’s got into you, Lou?” Her brow is creased in concern.

“You’re right,” I say hollowly. “Nothing’s got into me. I’m fine, honestly.” I play with my teacup. “So, you’re happy?” I ask in a small voice.

“Of course I am!” Alice exclaims, her hands thrown up in the air. “Can’t you tell?” And she’s right, she is happy, and I can tell. She is absolutely glowing with it. She looks just like a newlywed should look.

“Yes,” I say. “And I’m glad. Sorry, I’m just being silly.”

“That’s all right,” Alice replies, getting to her feet. “I have to get home, but come over for dinner this week. I’ll get out the candlesticks for you … if you’re not too busy spending time with your new fancy friends to see us little people,” she adds, and there’s something in the way she says it that hangs awkwardly between us.

“Of course.” I hug her tightly, trying to ignore the strange atmosphere, and then she disappears through the door and out into the night. I slump back into my seat and stare glumly into the bottom of my empty teacup as though I am hoping to find some answers there.

“Oh, you’re back,” a voice says, and I look up to see Tom standing in the doorway.

“That does seem to be the consensus,” I sigh.

“Haven’t seen Freya about anywhere, have you?” His eyes dart nervously from side to side.

“She was in here a while ago, but I don’t know where she went,” I say. “I heard about the costume, though.”

He groans. “Oh, well, that’s it, then, if she knows then I’m as good as dead.”

“I can’t believe you’re afraid of our little Freya,” I tease.

Tom snorts. “Oh, yes, you can, or would you like me to tell her it was you who ruined her costume?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I hiss.

“Not so funny when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it?” Tom says smugly, before his face falls. “Well, better tell Midge I’m off staying at Harry’s house until the storm passes. A couple of days should do.” Tom strides across the kitchen and vanishes into the pantry.

“Aunt Irene will love that,” I call. “You disappearing without asking permission or anything. She’s already going on and on about how wild we are.”

“Is that old crow here again as well?” Tom asks, his horrified face sticking around the pantry door. “All the more reason to beat a hasty retreat. Send up a white flag when it’s safe to come home, won’t you?”