Wild Heritage by Elisabeth McNeill

Author:Elisabeth McNeill
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788636391
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Ltd
Published: 2019-06-03T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

It was a relief to Marie when the weekend was over and she could take the train back to Edinburgh. She actually ran along Princes Street in her haste to reach the studio. She was eager to be back with her friends and her work, eager to shake off Camptounfoot, David and all of her past.

In the big studio she sniffed the heady aroma of turpentine mixed with linseed oil. It was a smell she loved, a smell that made her want to throw off her jacket and start painting immediately. She could hardly spare the time to say more than ‘Good morning’ to anyone.

Amy looked up, waved and grinned as she came running in, some of the other girls waved too and the Professor bustled over to say, ‘I want you to go across to the gallery on the other side of the road and look at the Dutch flower pieces there. You might like to try your hand at copying one of them.’

Time passed like magic when she painted. The hours flew by like seconds and it felt as if she had only started when Amy stood beside her wiping her brushes on a cloth and saying, ‘You’re coming back to Murrayhill with me tonight, I hope. We’ve arranged a dancing party and lots of people will be there.’

Including Murray! was Marie’s first thought but she demurred half-heartedly. ‘I’d love to but I’m always in your house. Your mother must be tired of the sight of me,’ but she hoped with all her heart that Amy really meant to take her home.

Though she’d stayed at Murrayhill often, she never presumed that she would be asked back. There was no problem with Tibbie, for if Marie was not off the half-past seven train, it was accepted that she would not be home that night.

Amy laughed. ‘My mother’s got to the stage that she doesn’t know whether you’re one of her own children or not and sometimes I think she prefers you to me. She’s always boasting to her friends about this wonderful artist she knows and that, my dear, is you,’ she said.

‘Your mother’s an angel,’ said Marie in a heartfelt tone.

Amy raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Don’t be deceived. My mother’s only an angel so long as you’re doing what she wants. Anyone who crosses her sees a very different side, I assure you.’

‘Well, she’s never shown her different side to me,’ said Marie loyally.

‘Not yet,’ said Amy, ‘but then she might never. You’re her darling and I know she’d be furious with me if I didn’t bring you home tonight.’

They drove in Amy’s carriage as usual. The coachman knew Marie by now and smiled when he handed her in. She loved the luxury of the carriage. That was the way people ought to live…

Murrayhill was a buzz of activity when they turned into the drive. To Marie’s amazement there were flames leaping from oil braziers on each side of the front door. She turned and asked Amy, ‘What’s happening?’

‘It’s Mama’s birthday.

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