It’s all a bit sad really. We don’t have one painting of George’s in the house; it was the bane of my father’s life,’ she said.
‘Not one?’ asked Ivo, surprised. ‘I thought he was quite prolific.’
‘Do you know much about him? I would love to know more,’ said Kitty, turning in her seat, her knees pressed against his.
‘I know a bit from university. I rather liked his work. Some people thought it was a bit poncy but I like how he painted women as women. Women who looked like you,’ he said, his eyes searching her face.
Kitty felt herself blush.
‘You can read the journals after I’ve translated them,’ he said, and Kitty looked away.
‘So, why were you heading into town? Looking for me perhaps?’ he said, noticing her carefully applied eyeliner and lip gloss.
‘Does every girl fall for your routine?’ asked Kitty, not looking at him, feeling more stupid than usual thanks to him guessing her plan.
‘Yes,’ answered Ivo with a shrug. ‘Usually.’
‘I’m not one of those girls, so you needn’t bother,’ said Kitty, wondering why she had bothered to dress up. Ivo wasn’t boyfriend material; he was a major player and she was fooling herself.
‘Alright. Friends then?’ asked Ivo and he held out his hand. Kitty took it. It was smooth and soft; the hand of a man who didn’t know hard work.
‘OK,’ she said softly. Maybe being friends with Ivo would be OK. She knew his type; he reminded her of Johnny the lying bastard, she thought, and she looked back out of the window.
‘So, what shall we do in the village? Not much to do – I had a look around; took me all of ten minutes,’ laughed Ivo.
‘Yes, it’s not London, I’m afraid,’ laughed Kitty. And they sat easily together as the bus rounded the corner into the village centre. Kitty alighted and waited for Ivo to descend from the steps.
‘So what are you going to do?’ he asked.
‘I have to go to the shop and buy a few things,’ mumbled Kitty.
‘That will take all of five minutes. Then what?’ he asked, putting his hands in his pockets.
‘Um, then I guess I’ll go home,’ she said, squinting into the light.
‘No – how about a pub lunch?’ he said, pointing in the direction of the pub. ‘It’s the least I could do for a friend.’ Ivo had checked his bank account the night before and had been thrilled to find it topped up. His first instalment for the film had come through.
‘OK,’ said Kitty shyly.
‘I’ll meet you there then?’ asked Ivo, his face searching hers.
‘Yep,’ said Kitty, and she walked in the direction of the store.
Wandering about the small store, she pulled random items out and put them in her basket. Tampons, nail polish remover, a magazine, chocolate, hairspray; she didn’t need any of them.
She stood at the counter as Mrs Turner, the wife of the shop owner, rang up her goods.
‘You’ve set the village in a tizzy,’ she said.
‘Pardon?’ asked Kitty, wondering how the town knew of her lascivious thoughts about Ivo.
‘The film,’ said Mrs Turner. ‘It’s all anyone is talking about. All the B&Bs are full up and you can’t move in the pub at night,’ she said knowledgeably.
‘Ah yes,’ smiled Kitty politely.
‘What’s she like then?’
‘Who?’ Kitty feigned ignorance.
‘Willow Carruthers. I read all about her in OK! magazine. Poor thing, with her husband being such a cad and all,’ she said as she put the items into a plastic bag.
‘She’s very nice,’ said Kitty.
‘Ooo, you met her then,’ said Mrs Turner.
‘Just briefly,’ said Kitty, knowing that if she said anything to the town gossip, Willow would never get any peace. The Middlemist family had always kept to themselves, and Kitty was happy to keep the tradition going.
‘Thanks Mrs Turner,’ said Kitty, and she went to leave the store, wondering if Ivo would be waiting for her. She thought of his eyes when he was sitting with her on the bus; she knew he was looking at her breasts but she found herself not minding. She had actually hunched her shoulders and pushed them closer together at one point when she saw him looking at her. This behaviour was new to Kitty. The sex she had had was pleasant but not earth shattering, but she had the distinct feeling Ivo would know his way around a girl’s body. Just thinking about it made her groin throb. She felt dirty and blushed as she stood by the counter.
‘Is it all sex then?’ hissed Mrs Turner, as Kitty