After a long intermission I have returned to my story of Jay, a woman with a new identity is now living in the seaside village of Oxhope.
It hasn’t yet been revealed why she’s there, or what happened in her past that has meant she had to start a new life, but she’s beginning to settle into it. She’s begun to make friends, including two women similar in age to her, when shockingly they find the body of a murdered woman, and are intensively questioned by the police. Jay didn’t know the victim, but had seen her at a music festival at the local pub where she had seemed very interested in a local band, Off With Her Head.
Despite the trauma, Jay tries to carry on with her life:
There was a poster in the window of the post office, Jay had come down to buy some paint brushes. She had expected the paper shop to have some, they had a whole miscellany of things for children – local kids and those belonging to holidaymakers from the caravan park.
It had been in her mind for a while, to start painting again, maybe starting in a small way with water colours. The thought had surfaced again when she saw some children’s sketch pads with big-eyed creatures, fairies and a big top. The big top had a leering clown waving an exaggerated hand towards the entrance which seemed sinister by any standards, but circuses had a particular and unnerving resonance for Jay. The big eyed creatures also unnerved her – ridiculous she told herself, get a grip, but the fairies looked bold and brave so she chose the pad adorned with fierce fey.
There were crayons and felt tips but no paints and the woman in the sari behind the counter suggested the post office.
“We do sell some of the same things as each other – we even sell stamps, but we do have different stock too,” she said as she held out the card reader. Friendly rivalry, it seemed.
The post office was quite busy, it was pension day, and a lot of people still liked to collect it in cash, so a friendly old gent told Jay. There was a mini-market and store to the side and Jay was surprised at the variety of goods available – it would save her a drive to the supermarket in town if she shopped here… and yes there were paints.
There were the usual children’s tins of water colours, but there were some pots of poster paints, and yes! Some acrylics! What an amazing post office.
“Interested in art?”
Another elderly man, this one with a mass of white curly hair and wire-rimmed glasses was holding a pack of tubes of paint and an adult sketch pad.
Jay agreed that she was and explained that she’d enjoyed it at school and was inspired to try again. The sea views and the sunsets, she explained.
“Maybe you might like to join our art group, nothing fancy or pretentious, just a few of us who like painting and drawing get together in the village hall twice a month. It’s quite informal!”
The loneliness Jay had felt swept back.
“Yes, maybe… when is it?” she asked.
“Every other Wednesday – we’re meeting next week, ten o’clock in the hall! You’ll be very welcome!”
Lois Elsden 