Yesterday`s flower - Michelle Tarynne (fun to read TXT) 📗

on signage for the shopfront, and Gladys, Prudence’s granddaughter, offered to come and help clean the day before Erika opened her doors.

But there was no real razzmatazz when she did.

 

No champagne and canapés. The whole of Franschhoek was a festival of Christmas fairs and company parties, and anything she might have a empted would have paled in comparison.

 

‘We can do something official in February or March,’ Erika said, and Jared agreed. ‘You’ll need to get business cards at the very least,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure who prints

ours. I’ll have to ask Max.’

 

Max.

 

It had been a week, and she’d neither seen him nor heard from him. Despite herself, she missed the way he’d so often offered to make her coffee, sliding it over without pulling her out of her creative zone. She missed his explanations of life on Le Domaine, filled with anecdotes and wry humour that kept her entranced for hours. She longed for the way he looked at her when she was talking, as though what she was saying was so valuable and interesting. However she felt about Jared, she missed Max.

 

And it wasn’t as if Jared wasn’t a star. He was tireless, and had done everything in his power to speed things along. When Erika was about to collapse from exhaustion, he’d scoot her upstairs so he could hang yet more of her paintings.

 

‘I’m keeping you from Le Domaine,’ Erika said. ‘Le Domaine’s been there for generations. It can wait.’

 

That wasn’t exactly what she meant and Jared probably knew it. But she was mindful not to remind him of his responsibilities, remembering what had happened the last time she’d done that. And in some ways, Jared was bringing Le Domaine to her. He’d stocked the fridge with white wine, the cupboards with red, and had replaced the odd plastic furniture with more tasteful items.

 

Most of the crockery in the apartment had been fine, but Erika had missed a few essentials: a potato peeler, a grater, a decent bread knife. When she and Albert had first got married, they’d started completely from scratch, so they’d chosen every item together. Albert had never been one of those men who were only interested in drills, saws and a new set of screwdrivers; he’d fancied himself as a bit of a chef. So se ing up here was a li le different – she could chose a pink colander simply because it was something Albert would have loathed. The thought gave her a childish thrill.

 

And so the opening of the gallery was nothing more than an unlocking of doors, turning the ‘Closed’ sign to ‘Open’, and se ing up an easel and paints near the back of the room. Jared had set up credit-card facilities … Well, she suspected Max had.

 

And Madeleine had been right about Donald’s painting: it was the perfect backdrop, and by the end of day one, she’d already had three offers on it, all of which she’d refused. She had, however, sold two other paintings to an American tourist who’d recently bought a holiday home near Llandudno in Cape Town.

 

Until she could afford to get someone to come in and help her, Erika was going to have to sit in the gallery all day, between few brief forays upstairs for tea or coffee or a sandwich. She didn’t mind; she was going to have to paint fast and with great dedication if she was going to keep up. She’d spoken to Ashton about couriering the paintings she’d put in storage when she’d left for South Africa. The mood and style were different, but therein lay their value: she didn’t want to be stereotyped, fearing the kiss of death if she was only valued for one type of landscape.

 

And through it all, Christmas remained at the back of her mind. Erika was a family girl, and now she’d placed herself at the other side of the world; she realised this was going to be a holiday she was going to spend if not alone, then close to it.

 

Christmas was only a few days away, and Jared hadn’t brought up the subject of where he’d be spending it. And because he didn’t, Erika was afraid to. Madeleine had invited Erika to spend Christmas with her family in Scarborough, and Erika was tempted. She didn’t want to be one of those people who kept others in reserve until a be er offer came along, but it seemed that was what she’d been reduced to. If Jared hadn’t brought up the subject by the end of the day, she decided, she would go to Madeleine’s.

Chapter 16

 

Driving to Scarborough, Erika replayed the previous night’s conversation, trying not to

feel hurt.

‘It’ll just be awkward,’ she’d said.

 

‘Where’s your Christmas spirit, Erika? You can’t expect me to choose between Max and you?’

 

‘Well, I had to,’ she’d replied, trying to contain the resentment in her voice. ‘If I just go to Madeleine’s, then no one has to feel uncomfortable.’

 

Erika recalled the way Jared stood up, picking up the Audi keys. He’d tossed them from one hand to another, then marched towards the open gallery door.

‘Well, you seem to have made up your mind, so who am I to stop you?’ he said.

 

And that’s what the entire debate had amounted to: Jared leaving the apartment without so much as a goodbye.

 

Erika didn’t really understand Jared’s moods. One moment he was high as a kite, truly invincible, and the next, it seemed as though he could hardly build up enough energy to speak, especially when it came to subjects he was uncomfortable with. She’d wanted so often to talk to Max about it, but nowadays that was impossible.

 

But where did Jared’s sadness come from? Sometimes she wondered if he avoided reality – which was why he’d left it to her to have the discussion with Max. And things had only got more complicated with the gallery. She’d loved the idea that he supported her art, but she didn’t want to be beholden to him, which was why she insisted on paying at least half the rental. But judging by his reaction to Christmas, he didn’t actually like it when she made her own decisions.

 

Erika parked outside Donald’s house, this time carrying a bag just big enough for three days’ clothing, and a small shopping bag of presents. She unlocked the front door, feeling the sense of familiarity and calm of her uncle’s house. Looking across at the blank wall in the lounge, she realised how right Donald had been: the room needed that painting, just like she needed Jared.

 

Erika sighed. If she’d made a mistake in coming here for Christmas, it was too late now.

 

She walked into the kitchen. She’d die for a cup of tea, but she’d forgo en to pick up some milk en route. She wondered if she might have left some in the freezer ... As she opened the freezer door, there were footsteps outside. A loud knock.

‘Open up, Erika! It’s me.’

Erika’s heart bounced as she ran to the door, flinging it open.

‘I didn’t say goodbye,’ Jared said, ‘and I missed you.’

He kissed her with such passion that her blood seemed to evaporate.

‘It’s only been a few hours,’ Erika said, trying to hide her relief.

‘A few hours too many. I’m not good at saying sorry,’ Jared said.

‘Is that what you’re doing?’

He nodded. ‘Am I forgiven?’

 

And Erika led him inside, closing the door firmly behind them. She began to unbu on his shirt.

‘You might have to try a li le harder than that ...’ she said.

 

 

 

♥

 

It was a Christmas Eve unlike anything Erika had ever experienced before. For one thing, the sun was so harsh and hot that they dried within minutes of ge ing out the sea early that morning. The Christmas trees and lights seemed incongruous to her; the fake snow decorating shop windows made her want to laugh. Who would want snow when you had weather like this?

 

Although Jared hadn’t said as much, she had a feeling he’d only stay until Christmas morning. And with a few extra hours together, she wasn’t going to complain. They motored along Chapman’s Peak Drive, only recently reopened after a treacherous rock fall, and with the wind through her hair, Erika felt like Grace Kelly. Jared drove too fast, but the exhilaration overcame her sense of fear. They zipped around corners and screeched perilously close to the turquoise depths with its billowing foam below, and she experienced a feeling of immortality.

 

Jared was so confident at the wheel, that she didn’t think to doubt or caution him. Besides, with his hands at the wheel, and the smile of triumph glowing in every part of his face, he was so sexy she couldn’t concentrate on much else.

 

For lunch, they ate calamari in Hout Bay. Jared ordered beer shandies, which they gulped down, needing another round almost immediately. Though Erika would have been content to sit and watch the world go by from their table, Jared couldn’t sit still enough to have dessert.

‘I’ll have you for dessert later,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s walk.’

 

They kicked off their shoes, dipping their feet into the hot sand as people passed by with their dogs or chasing after children. Jared took Erika’s hand and they walked into the water so that their feet wouldn’t burn.

‘Are you glad I came?’ Jared asked.

 

‘Of course I am,’ Erika replied, amazed that he needed to ask. ‘I didn’t want to leave you. I just thought it would be best –’

‘Let’s not have that conversation again.’

Erika nodded, noticing how the mood had suddenly changed.

 

‘Perhaps we should get going,’ Jared said. ‘Didn’t Madeleine say we should be there at four?’

 

♥

 

Madeleine’s festivities were to begin with Christmas Eve drinks, before the main event the next day. Erika had never been to Madeleine’s home: apart from that time at Donald’?s place, they’d really only seen each other at the coffee shop. From the outside, her home was fairly typical of Scarborough – clapboard, with a corrugated iron roof and shu ers in a rich, cheerful blue. Unlike many of the other houses though, it was well kept, with none of the deterioration of a seldom-used holiday home. Signs of everyday life pointed to permanent occupation: a bicycle lay toppled in the front yard, a dustbin waited for collection and a half-repaired boat stood on blocks under a carport.

 

‘You made it!’ Madeleine said, accepting a bo le of wine from Erika. ‘And you must be Jared.’

Erika was grateful for Madeleine’s quick summing up of their situation: that Jared was

 

 

in town despite what she’d relayed on the phone.

 

‘Come on in.’ Madeleine waved them past her towards a patio. ‘Colin’s just bringing the Weber round from the garage. You’re staying for something to eat?’

‘I thought you were feeding me tomorrow!’ said Erika.

 

‘What can I say? I can’t have hungry people on my watch,’ Madeleine laughed. ‘Sanchia’s popping over later.’ Madeleine looked at Jared. ‘Shall we lay a place for you tomorrow as well?’ she asked.

Jared smiled. ‘Thanks for the offer, but my brother’s on his own.’

 

‘Fair enough,’ Madeleine said, moving the subject quickly along. ‘Let’s crack open some of these bo les. Sure that’s something you’ll be able to help with, hey, Jared?’

 

Erika watched the easy way Jared integrated with the group. Having opened and poured some wine, he