that was under a pile of magazines. At least it would take her mind off the voices in her head. She grabbed the tin of charcoal pencils Ed had given her and started to make small marks on the paper, tentative at first, then bolder. The charcoal made pleasing noises as she skimmed over the sketchpad, letting her imagination go, finding and building on images in her mind, shading them in, concentrating on detail to rid her mind of anything but the flow between her brain and the drawings in front of her.
She stayed like that for about two hours, hunched over, page after page – trying new shapes out, shading things differently. It all came back to her. And it felt good to be creating something. Eventually, she held both arms above her head and yawned. She strolled to the kitchen, made herself a toasted cheese sandwich and a cup of chamomile tea, and then flipped open her laptop and started to do some research. An hour later she was cold and stiff. She shrugged her shoulders, got up and glanced at her watch. She texted Sue, the café owner, asking her to meet her at the café in a few days. She couldn’t hide in Maris Cottage forever. She felt marginally better; and moreover, she had a plan.
*
‘Sue, I’ve had an idea.’ Maddie leant against the counter. She was wearing a pink polo-neck sweater and she yanked up the sleeves. It was the 9th of January. She’d arrived early, had helped Lauren set up and done the lunch shift but it was quiet now. (Good to see you! Lauren had said, but you still look like shit, must’ve been bad flu, hon!)
‘Shoot.’ Sue was looking at her.
She took out her sketchbook and showed Sue her drawings and paintings, the ones she’d done by the warmth of the fire at home, or sitting with the pad on her knee over the last few days, looking out to the stretch of silver sand, ribbons of moonlight reflected in the sea, or once, at the beach when the wind hadn’t been too harsh, taking her notebook and paints with her and sketching the lines of the gulls whilst Taffie sniffed along the shoreline and she sat in a sheltered part of the beach by the rocks or captured the colours of the oystercatchers feeding by the water’s edge.
Sue flicked through the book, her eyebrows knitted into a thoughtful frown.
‘These are exquisite, Maddie.’ Sue handed her the sketchbook. ‘It’s not a bad idea.’ Sue’s gaze returned to the empty shelves on the back wall, and then back at Maddie.
‘Would it work on pottery?’
‘Yes. As long as I keep it simple.’
‘How would you do it?’
Maddie started to explain, about buying in bisqueware, painting it, then varnishing it and firing it in the kiln. The small room at the back, she told her, could be put to good use, to house a small kiln and keep the paints.
‘I could come in early or stay late and varnish and fire the pieces. We can use them in the café, too. It’s not expensive to buy the pottery in – especially if you buy in bulk and we can store it in that room. The paints aren’t too expensive either. I’ve looked into it.’ Maddie reached for her phone.
‘Here, have a look at these.’ She swiped her phone and showed Sue and Lauren some examples of the sort of pottery she hoped to paint and sell. Small pieces: egg cups, bowls and plates. She could start with those, and if demand grew, they could order larger pieces. It could be seasonal, too – Easter, Christmas, that kind of thing, she said, eyes wide.
Sue was nodding. ‘Send me some more links of what you’ve been looking at and I’ll sleep on it.’
She left the café buoyed by her ideas. She could make this work. When she got home she took out her sketchbook and paints and, with renewed vigour, she painted late into the evening.
48
By the end of January the little storeroom at the Shore Café had been transformed. There was a small kiln able to fire about eight to ten pieces overnight, pots of paint, shelves of rose-coloured bisqueware – she’d learnt that’s what ‘raw’ pottery was called before it’s glazed and fired – and a row of paintbrushes, some synthetic, a few expensive sable ones. Maddie and Sue had split the cost of the second-hand kiln; it was an investment into both their futures.