been coming to the café early in the morning to transfer her ideas from her sketchbook onto the pottery, varnish it and then fire it overnight. It allowed her some much-needed time just to take her mind off her inner turmoil, to do something with her hands and to create something new, staring out at the bay for inspiration.
There had been some disasters: six egg cups that she’d spent hours decorating – she had taken them out of the kiln far too early and they had all cracked.
Next time, she allowed them to cool slowly in the kiln before she removed them.
Today, she had another idea of what to put on the little plates and she wanted to try it out. It was 7 a.m. and Lauren wouldn’t be in till about nine.
She took out her sketchpad and sat down at the stool, getting her paints ready. She looked at her design again on her notepad and then started to flick colours and shapes on the plates. After about half an hour one of her plates was ready to dry. She placed it on its stand and sat back and stretched her arms above her head.
She had managed to capture the birds in flight on several pieces of pottery. No two hummingbirds she painted were the same; each had a small detail that was different, the colours brighter or darker – and of course, when they were glazed and fired, sometimes tiny markings would come out that were a complete surprise, a golden touch here, the blue of the wings amplified there; it all depended on the colours and the thickness of the glaze.
*
It was a blustery day and Maddie was behind the counter slicing some Victoria sponge for the display. The café door clanked open and a man in a grey wool coat approached her; raindrops glistened on the sleeve of his coat.
‘Can I help?’ Maddie wiped her hands on her apron.
‘I hope so. I’m looking for the lady who does the pottery.’ He looked down at his notebook. ‘Maddie?’
‘Oh, that’s me!’
He smiled at her. ‘I’m from the IOW Gazette and I was told we had some local pottery here, made on the Isle of Wight.’
‘Well,’ explained Maddie, ‘it’s painted here – does that count? Let me show you.’
She led him to the back of the café to the shelving unit and showed him her pieces.
‘Would you mind if I took a photo of you and the pottery? We might get it in tomorrow’s paper, just a small piece – my editor’s all for supporting local entrepreneurs.’
‘Sure.’ Maddie smiled. She’d never been called an entrepreneur before. The man took out his camera and snapped a few shots and asked her a couple of questions, picked up one of the plates and studied it.
‘These are lovely.’ He smiled at her, then put it back carefully.
As he was leaving, Lauren came in. She’d been out buying some more milk. ‘Who was that?’ Lauren asked, putting the milk on the counter.
‘The local press!’ said Maddie. ‘No, seriously, he took some photos of the pottery – and me.’
‘Ooh, get you!’ Lauren nudged her in the ribs. ‘No, seriously, that will be great for the café, that kind of publicity. Well done, Maddie.’
Maddie looked over to her work, sitting in rows on the shelf. She was lost in thought.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ Lauren smiled over at Maddie.
Maddie blew a long breath out as if she was exhaling cigarette smoke. ‘Lot on my mind. Ed texted me from Vietnam last night. I think things are getting pretty serious between him and Adity.’ Maddie sat down at the table next to the pottery shelf.
Lauren came over and sat down next to her, her bangles clinking as she and placed two steaming lattes on the table. Maddie glanced around; the shop was empty. It was a rare moment to relax.
‘Well, that’s not such a bad thing, is it?’ Lauren said.
‘I suppose so.’
‘Do you like her?’
‘Well, what I’ve seen, yes, she’s lovely, but it’s been really brief, and at that point I didn’t know how serious it would be. When I first met her in Bali, I thought she was just part of Ed’s “gang”.’ Maddie smiled to herself. ‘But now they seem inseparable.’ She bit her lip, remembering her last phone call with Ed. I love her, Mum.
‘But you must remember first love? Didn’t it happen to you?’
Maddie’s stomach did a funny little flip when Lauren said ‘first love’. Of course it had happened to her. But look