‘I don’t suppose you do much actual painting,’ he says.
‘None at all. But for some reason, everyone seems to think I’ve spent the past two years sitting with an easel, painting portraits.’
‘But you must be able to draw pretty well,’ he says.
I shrug. ‘I suppose so.’
‘You draw beautifully,’ says Mr. Martin. ‘I saw that painting of the forest you did for your mother last Christmas.’
‘Would you like me to paint a mural?’ I ask him. ‘I don’t have time for much, but maybe we could put one on the wall next to the piano.’
‘That would be lovely,’ he says. ‘The hall is mostly used by children’s groups. I’m sure they would appreciate it.’
‘That’s settled,’ says Alex. ‘What shall we do?’
Suzy looks a little put out at not being part of the conversation.
‘Can you draw?’ she asks Alex.
‘Not a bit!’ he says cheerfully. ‘But I can fetch paint and run around being a general dogsbody. My mother has trained me very well.’
‘How about The Wind in the Willows?’ I suggest. ‘We could paint a lovely scene with that theme.’
‘Along the riverbank?’ he says. ‘What a great idea. I always loved that book.’
‘Me too,’ I say. ‘My dad used to read it to me when I was little. He says he regretted it once he taught me to drive because I drove like Mr. Toad.’
‘It’s true,’ says Suzy. ‘She isn’t a very good driver.’
‘My favourite part was the Christmas chapter,’ says Alex. ‘But I was always afraid of the stoats and the weasels.’
‘You were not!’ I say.
‘Yes, I was!’ he insists. ‘I went camping with my cub scout group when I was about eight, and I was too terrified to leave the tent at night.’
‘But a mural will take forever,’ objects Suzy. ‘The walls will be fine painted white.’
I hardly hear her. ‘If someone can find a piece of paper and a pencil, we could sketch something out.’
Mr. Martin pulls a notebook from his pocket. ‘I could probably spare you a couple of sheets from this. I use it to remind myself where I ought to be. It rarely works, but it makes me feel better.’
Alex and I sit together on the stage steps.
‘Something like this?’ I say, sketching rapidly.
‘That’s great!’ he says. ‘I’m glad you’ve left the stoats and weasels in the wild wood where they belong. This is a much nicer scene.’
‘And we can have Mr Toad driving past in the background,’ I add.
‘There’s nothing for me to do,’ says Suzy. ‘I’ve finished the windowsills, and I’m not using a roller.’
‘I can finish painting that last wall by myself,’ says Mr. Martin. ‘Maybe you can go and fetch the paint if Annie tells you what she needs.’
‘I’ll go,’ offers Alex. ‘I have my dad’s car today.’
Suzy brightens. ‘I’ll come with you. You don’t know where to buy the paint.’
My heart sinks. If she goes with Alex to buy the paint, it’s odds on that the pair of them won’t return. Suzy will probably induce him to stop at the pub with her on the way back, and he’ll lose all sense of time. I know how Suzy operates.