Leave Me Breathless

‘There are,’ I agree. ‘It’s a lovely little town. Have you lived here long?’

‘Oh, I’m a lifer.’ Molly laughs as she approaches, helping me to restack the paint pots. ‘I love it here.’ Her brown eyes are big and round, a friendly twinkle in them, and her hourglass figure must be the envy of women near and far. She’s got to be a few years younger than me, maybe late twenties, and her mousy-brown hair is pulled into a low, loose ponytail. ‘You’ll never want to leave.’

I smile, making sure it’s not too tight. I might never want to leave, but I’ll have to eventually. ‘I don’t already.’

‘Where have you come from?’ Molly asks casually as we finish arranging the shelf together.

I automatically clam up, but quickly work to shake off my awkwardness. I can’t turn into a nervous waif every time someone asks anything about me. ‘I’ve lived abroad for years. Decided it was time to come home.’ An image of my mother flashes through my mind, and a lump forms in my throat. Saturday, I tell myself. I can see her again on Saturday. I blink and look up at Molly.

‘Well, welcome back to England.’

‘Thank you.’

I don’t know whether she senses she shouldn’t press me for more, or whether she’s oblivious to my struggle, but I’m grateful all the same for her lack of prying. Wandering over to the opposite wall, she scans the paintings. ‘So I’m hoping you can help me.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘The art teacher is off sick, so I’m covering her class tomorrow. But we never got the supplies we were expecting this week.’ She turns toward me. ‘The kids will be so disappointed if they can’t paint their papier-mâché models.’

‘You need paint?’ I ask, and she nods.

‘Enough to paint various giant planets for their solar system project.’ She shrugs when I frown. ‘The art teacher is also the science teacher. Small school. I went to the local shop and all they have is various shades of cream and white. That’s the bands on Jupiter covered.’ Her expression turns somewhat awkward as I laugh.

‘I only really stock oils and watercolours,’ I say as I gesture to the shelf. ‘They’re expensive and you’d need a hell of a lot to spread over a solar system.’

‘Crap. I’m on a budget.’ Molly deflates. ‘Never mind, I’ll just—’

‘Wait, I have an idea that might work.’ I head for the kitchenette, and Molly follows. Opening the top cupboard, I start rifling through, pulling down various bottles of food colouring. ‘Would you pass me that bowl?’ I ask as I grab the flour and salt from another cupboard.

‘I’m intrigued,’ Molly says as she watches me tip two cups of each into the bowl, followed by two cups of water. I add a few drops of red food colouring and mix it all up with a wooden spoon. ‘That’s Mars sorted.’ I grab a container and tip in the homemade paint.

‘You genius,’ Molly sings on a clap of her hands. ‘Where’d you learn that?’

‘When I was a student and money was tight.’ God, those days were so carefree. I was so happy. And now I can be happy again. ‘You just need a lot of flour, salt, and time, but it’s cheap.’

She looks at her watch, and I see a small flinch pass across her face. ‘I have to shoot to the vet to pick up my dog. The town shop will be closed by the time I’m done.’

‘I don’t mind going to the shop.’ I offer, more than happy to help. ‘And I’ll mix the rest of the colours up, if you’re short on time.’

‘Oh my God, would you? I would be eternally grateful.’

‘Of course.’ I shrug off her appreciation. ‘It won’t take me long. I hope your dog is okay.’

‘Oh, nothing major. Well, I say that. I’m sure Archie wouldn’t agree when he’s just had his balls cut off.’

I laugh, wincing for effect. ‘What breed?’

‘A Labrador. You a dog person, or a cat person?’

‘A dog person.’ My smile falters as I go to the sink and rinse the bowl of red paint. ‘I used to have a cockapoo.’

‘Oh no, did she die?’

I nod, because, again, it’s easier. She didn’t die. I was told my life wasn’t suitable for a dog. So she was taken to an animal shelter. ‘Candy. She was a crafty character. But loyal to the bone.’ And that loyalty turned out to be the cause for her having to leave me.

I set the clean bowl on the drainer and dry my hands with a tea towel as I face Molly, pulling my smile from nowhere. The sympathy emblazoned across her face stabs at my heart. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah. I can only imagine how you felt. They become a part of the family so quickly.’

I bet she can’t imagine at all. ‘Anyway.’ I toss the tea towel aside. ‘I’d better get to the shop before it closes. Would you like me to drop off the paints once I’m done?’