On Renfrew Street by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt [Hewitt, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lost Lake Books
Published: 2019-04-23T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

A month later, in the beginning of March, Ellen donned her smartest gown for the Glasgow Society of Lady Artists’ winter exhibition. Her sketches had been framed and displayed together in the back of the building’s long gallery, titled simply Sketches from Springburn, and while their placement was far from prominent, Ellen was beyond proud to be included.

Many of the pupils from the School of Art came to the exhibition, along with several professors and trustees. Ellen saw Henry circulating amidst the guests, and the sight of him after so long, with his sweep of dark hair and bright blue eyes, his smile as charming as ever, even from across the room, gave her a surprising pang of something like homesickness. She’d missed him, she realized, even though she hadn’t meant to.

Life had been so busy, she hadn’t been aware of the lack until now. She been spending her Saturdays in Springburn, away from the world of school and art; either sketching scenes she came across in the street or sitting in Rosie and Dougie’s humble kitchen, with a big brown pot of tea strong enough to stand a spoon in, reminding her of her childhood.

Now, in the midst of all the circulating artists and guests, Henry caught her eyes and after a second’s hesitation he started towards her with a small smile.

“Hello, Ellen.”

“Hello, Henry.” She gave a brief of nod of acknowledgement, feeling strangely formal. She recalled her harshly spoken words in the foyer of his family home in Dowanhill, and felt the need to bridge the chasm that had yawned between them since then. “You’re well?”

“Well enough.” He nodded towards the sketches hung on the wall behind them. “Those are truly brilliant, the best you’ve ever done.”

“Thank you.”

“So deceptively simple,” he continued, his voice roughened with sincerity. “And yet with such depth. It is the genius I saw you back on that train to Chicago.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Ellen answered, and then impulsively continued, ‘I think I lost some of my spark when I came to Glasgow. I was so intimidated by everything—the professors, the pupils, the whole atmosphere. It took going back to Springburn to remember who I am, and why I love to draw.”

“And also perhaps an unfortunate experience at a ball?” he added with a wry smile. “Ellen, I still feel I need to apologize—“

“No, you don’t. I was rude to you then, Henry, and I’m sorry. But I hope you can see now what I meant.”

“I can,” Henry answered slowly, “but I still don’t agree with you.”

“Henry—“

“My grandfather was a coal miner,” Henry cut across her. “Did you know that?”

“He—what?” Ellen looked at him in befuddlement.

“A coal miner. Not a coal miner owner, but one of the poor, soot-faced souls who spend sixteen hours out of twenty-four down a dark mine. He bettered himself, took some risks, had a healthy dose of godo fortune, and here we are.” Henry’s whimsical smile was touched by sadness. “We’re not so different, you and I, Ellen, no matter what you’ve chosen to believe.

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