more surprised than Ellie when Martha had replied to her impulsively sent message. Brief and to the point, she had thanked her for the email and insisted that she most definitely didn’t want Tony to be told about the death of her husband. That had been all.
Until two days later when, out of the blue, another mail had arrived in Ellie’s inbox:
Dear Ellie,
Was I rude before? A bit abrupt? If so, I’m sorry. Many thanks for your kind offer. I don’t feel it would be appropriate to come to your flat, but I shall be painting in Little Venice on Sunday afternoon. If you happened to be free and in the area, it would be nice to meet you.
Best wishes,
Martha.
At close quarters, Ellie saw that the easel might be up but no painting was getting done. Martha was sitting on her stool holding a piece of charcoal but only the most basic outlines were in place. Tony had described her as voluptuous and glowing. Well, that wasn’t currently the case. Attractive she might be, with her striking cheekbones and beautifully shaped head, but her face was drawn, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and any glow was conspicuous by its absence.
But when she turned and saw Ellie standing a few meters away watching her, she broke into a smile that made a difference.
‘Hello. Is it you?’
‘It’s me,’ Ellie agreed.
‘Thought so. Hello, darling, nice to meet you.’ Martha sighed and gestured with an air of helplessness at the few lines sketched on the artist’s pad in front of her. ‘I think I’ll give up on this. Shall we go and find somewhere we can have a cup of tea?’
‘Can’t we stay here?’
‘But there’s nowhere for you to sit…’ There was a moment of hostess panic. ‘Oh dear, I didn’t think this through.’
‘Hello? Are you suggesting I’m ancient and decrepit?’ Ellie was wearing old jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She sat down cross-legged, out of the way of passers-by, just to the right of Martha. ‘I’m fine like this.’
‘Only if you’re sure. Let me know when your bottom goes numb. I keep trying to paint,’ said Martha. ‘But I can’t seem to do it anymore. I want to, but it just won’t happen.’ She looked stricken. ‘I might never paint again.’
‘How are you feeling? You can tell me. And I mean properly tell me,’ said Ellie. ‘That’s why I’m here.’
‘Darling, I know. And bless you for coming. Truthfully?’ Martha paused and rolled the stick of charcoal between her thumb and forefinger. ‘I feel like a rabbit that’s been hit by a car and left in a ditch to die. I feel like an empty house with all the windows flung open and a cold wind whistling through. I feel guilty and alone and sometimes I wonder if Henry’s in a better place now, and then I hate myself for thinking that… actually, I hate myself pretty much all the time. And I miss him, I miss him so desperately I could rip out my own heart because it couldn’t hurt as much as this. How does that sound?’
‘Truthfully?’ echoed Ellie. ‘It sounds familiar.’
‘You know about me and Tony? You must do.’
‘Yes. He told me.’ Was Martha aware that she was turning her wedding ring round and round? It was loose on her finger; she had evidently lost weight.
‘And while you were married to Jamie, did you have an affair with another man?’
‘No.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Well then. You didn’t have that to feel guilty about.’
‘I know. It must be awful. But the guilt still gets you, one way or another. I blamed myself for not forcing Jamie to take the train instead of the car.’
‘That’s just part of the whole grieving process, though.’ Martha sat back. ‘I’ve read the leaflets. But I do actually have a valid reason to hate myself.’
‘Your husband wasn’t himself.’
‘That’s not good enough.’
‘Look, there’s nothing I can say that’ll make you feel better.’ Ellie watched a pair of swans glide past. ‘But it’s only been a few weeks. Things will get easier in time.’
‘That’s what everyone tells me. I can’t imagine it happening.’
‘It will. Look at me. I couldn’t ever imagine getting involved with someone else. But I did,’ said Ellie.
‘Oh yes. Tony told me.’ A smile flickered across her face. ‘He was so pleased for you. Jamie’s best friend. I heard all about it. That’s lovely.’
Oh dear. ‘Actually, that was never a proper thing. It didn’t work out. But