Lucy made her way back home to Jules' mansion a little while out of town, and when she arrived she parked her little green Volkswagen in the carport then unlocked the house and flopped down on the enormous leather sofa. L'Arlesienne was rightfully hers now, seeing it had been passed down to her from her dear grandfather. But it still seemed like Jules' house, his furniture, his paintings on the wall, it was just as it had been when he was alive. Expect that there was no old man hobbling around the house, supporting himself with a twisted maple walking stick. Lucy had been there, and held his hand as he had passed away into the clouds. It was so sudden, he had seemed so healthy. Sure, he had arthritic knees and a bad back, but it had never really accrued to Lucy that one day he might just be gone, disappear into nothingness.
Her parents were in Rouen one cold wintery day, it was their anniversary and Lucy had been left in the care of a neighbour. They had been going sightseeing, visiting old castles that were in the family, art galleries and vineyards. They were always the kind of things her parents were doing, her father once worked at a vineyard and since then he'd been interested in wine.
Her mother, Claire Hart, on the other hand, was more interested in old buildings. She would sit for hours on end painting in the windowsills of ancient Cathedrals. But on this particular day they had visited a castle, and were on their way home, when a blizzard began brewing, trying to avoid the worst of it, her father, William, and sped and due to the amount of snow on the road his car sped out of control and they spun into a icy lake. They were found the next day, neither had survived. When her neighbour had told her it felt like half of her was gone, disappeared into the snow. So a few weeks after the funeral her grandfather, Jules Hart and kind old man, took her in and cared for her for twelve years, until he himself passed away.
Lucy put the kettle on and got out her painting kit. Painting, like it was her mothers, was Lucy's soothing therapy. Flipping through her art book Lucy found a painting of her grandfather that she had drawn the previous year. His grey hair curled softly on top of his head, his piercing blue eyes stared intriguingly,and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. She blinked away the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes and flicked to a black page and began painting a forest scene. Scattered between the beach trees she carefully painted delicate red and white fairy toadstools.
Pausing her painting, she got up and made a mug of instant coffee and made her way to the car, where she had left the painting that she had found earlier in the cemetery. She got the painting, and for sure it was one of hers, just like she had suspected, it was her Castle in the Woods' a painting of an ancient grey castle nestled in the tall pine trees of the French country-side. She had sold this painting to a rich woman in Paris two weeks earlier, so how had it ended up in a shed... in a cemetery? Still musing about the painting, Lucy got back to her art-work.
Two hours passed, and she had successfully completed her painting, covering the sky with dark grey storm clouds.
Her parents were in Rouen one cold wintery day, it was their anniversary and Lucy had been left in the care of a neighbour. They had been going sightseeing, visiting old castles that were in the family, art galleries and vineyards. They were always the kind of things her parents were doing, her father once worked at a vineyard and since then he'd been interested in wine.
Her mother, Claire Hart, on the other hand, was more interested in old buildings. She would sit for hours on end painting in the windowsills of ancient Cathedrals. But on this particular day they had visited a castle, and were on their way home, when a blizzard began brewing, trying to avoid the worst of it, her father, William, and sped and due to the amount of snow on the road his car sped out of control and they spun into a icy lake. They were found the next day, neither had survived. When her neighbour had told her it felt like half of her was gone, disappeared into the snow. So a few weeks after the funeral her grandfather, Jules Hart and kind old man, took her in and cared for her for twelve years, until he himself passed away.
Lucy put the kettle on and got out her painting kit. Painting, like it was her mothers, was Lucy's soothing therapy. Flipping through her art book Lucy found a painting of her grandfather that she had drawn the previous year. His grey hair curled softly on top of his head, his piercing blue eyes stared intriguingly,and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. She blinked away the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes and flicked to a black page and began painting a forest scene. Scattered between the beach trees she carefully painted delicate red and white fairy toadstools.
Pausing her painting, she got up and made a mug of instant coffee and made her way to the car, where she had left the painting that she had found earlier in the cemetery. She got the painting, and for sure it was one of hers, just like she had suspected, it was her Castle in the Woods' a painting of an ancient grey castle nestled in the tall pine trees of the French country-side. She had sold this painting to a rich woman in Paris two weeks earlier, so how had it ended up in a shed... in a cemetery? Still musing about the painting, Lucy got back to her art-work.
Two hours passed, and she had successfully completed her painting, covering the sky with dark grey storm clouds.
S.
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