CHAPTER 7
I spend part of the weekend traipsing round the shops getting set up for the next week’s painting class; palette of watercolour paints, brushes of various thickness, a piece of cloth for a cleaning rag. I wonder if I ought to buy some kind of smock to protect my clothes but decide rather than risk looking a complete i***t I’ll wear things I no longer care much about.
Entering the classroom Tuesday evening I pause by the door as I scan the room and am pleased to see Lily already there. To her left an elderly man is busily setting out his painting equipment but the easel on her right is free. I’m just about to take a step forward when I’m shouldered aside by a young woman with strikingly pink hair and a tattoo on her neck. I sense that she’s heading for the vacant easel next to L
