One Step at a Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

will be when they’re finished.’ Ben gazed at the portrait critically, pleased with his friend’s reaction. He trusted Howard, who had a marvellous eye for what was right. ‘I haven’t captured the eyes yet. There was so much in them. Youth, innocence and a deep, deep hurt that went to her very soul. Even when she smiled it was still there.’
    Howard shot his friend a speculative look. ‘You’re getting poetic. Did you ask the girl about her life?’
    ‘No, if I’d tried that she would have run away, and I didn’t want to lose her until I’d finished the sketches. I knew that sitting beside me was something special. Someone special.’
    Continuing to study the paintings, Howard pursed his lips in concentration. ‘Got a bit of a gypsy look about her, but she isn’t conventionally beautiful.’
    ‘I agree.’ Ben didn’t look up from cleaning hishands with white spirit. ‘But what a fascinating face.’
    ‘I know this is only the first laying down of paint, but are the eyes really that colour?’
    Ben squinted, visualizing the young girl when she had looked at him. ‘Slightly darker, but I haven’t finished yet.’
    Excitement lighting his face, Howard shoved his hands in his pockets and began pacing. ‘I think you’ve really got something here. I’ll ask Thomas from the Summerfield Gallery to come and have a look.’
    ‘No.’ Ben spoke sharply, making Howard frown. ‘That’s kind of you, but I don’t want anyone to see these until they’re finished.’
    ‘All right, if that’s how you feel.’
    ‘I do.’ Ben smiled. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m happy with them. Now I suppose I’d better get ready for this damned party. How the hell did we get invited, anyway?’
    ‘They know our respective parents.’ Howard’s face broke into a grin. ‘You’re an unsociable devil when your mind’s on painting, which is nearly all the time. I hope you’ve remembered to get a present for Sheila?’
    ‘I did this for her.’ Ben picked up a small painting of a single yellow rose, holding it out for Howard to see.
    ‘Oh, very pretty.’ His friend’s tone was sarcastic. ‘Not your best work.’
    ‘Agreed, but it’s how I pay my rent. For some strange reason this kind of thing sells.’ Ben shovedthe painting in a bag. ‘I look forward to the day when I can just paint what I like, but that isn’t possible when we’re short of money.’
    Howard nodded, perched back on the stool again and stared at the portrait. ‘Does rather stifle the artistic talent, doesn’t it? I’m making awful things like jam pots and biscuit barrels. God, how I hate it, but we’ve got to eat – sometimes.’
    ‘Can’t argue with that.’ Ben knew what a tough time Howard was having. He rented the basement of this house and it was often a struggle to find enough money to pay his rent. Ben helped when he could, but it wasn’t easy. The two of them never turned down an invitation, in the hope of getting a free meal. That showed just how bad things were at times.
    Like Ben, Howard Palmer came from a middle-class family, but because he had chosen to become a sculptor, they had refused to give him any financial help – until he had come to his senses, as they put it. Howard was a brilliant sculptor and had been a good friend of Ben since childhood. They had both dropped out of university at the same time to pursue their dream of having a gallery of their own one day.
    Ben realized they had both fallen silent, lost in thought as they stared at the portrait, dreaming of a successful future. ‘And what are you giving Sheila?’
    Howard started. When he looked up his eyes were unfocused for a moment, then they gleamed in amusement. ‘I’ve made her a vase.’
    ‘I’m sure it’s very pretty.’
    They burst into hoots of laughter, their introspective mood disappearing.
    Howard stood up and slapped Ben on the back. ‘She’s going to get two unusual and unique presents. Get cleaned up. Hope there’s plenty of food,