There's No Accounting For Love

Chapter Fifty Five

On Sunday, which was also cool but sunny, they drove to Budleigh Salterton to visit the local Museum. Clare bought some mementoes for herself and the children. After lunching in a local cafe they headed back to the car. They were crossing on a zebra, when a red Ferrari came speeding along. It was obvious that it was not going to stop and as Alan turned his head he spotted Marie in the driving seat. His life flashed before him and again, he thought his last moments had come, when he was jerked sharply backwards by Clare and he fell by the side of her, hitting his head on the pavement in the process.

"I'm sorry Alan, are you okay?" asked Clare who by now was on her knees at his side.

Before he could answer, an irate elderly couple came up to them.

"I saw that young man! Are you all right? She's a maniac that one. Only last week she did the same thing on this very crossing." The man held his hand out to Alan to help him to his feet. Clare held onto his elbow and together they pulled him up.

"Just as well your girlfriend had her wits about her, you could have been killed!" said the elderly lady. "You must report this to the Police."

The elderly couple gave their names and address as witnesses and the next two hours were spent at the local Police station which was in another village. It seemed that Marie now lived in the area and was terrorising pedestrians. As Alan had a bump on his head, Clare encouraged him to go to a hospital to get it checked out, but he refused.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Later on, back in Sidmouth, they browsed around the streets and found a beautiful shop selling hand painted pictures of all types and sizes.

"I like looking at paintings." said Alan.

Clare agreed, "Let's go in."

They pushed open the door and a man behind the counter nodded a welcome.  Clare found a picture of two children in a meadow wearing old fashioned clothes. The girl was wearing a blue bonnet which the wind had tugged away from her head, but it was still held by the strings and a boy was laughing and jumping up at her side whilst holding a small dog on a lead. Both of the children had very dark hair.

"Look, it's like you and me when we were small. Oh, it's called 'Children of the wind'. How lovely! What do you think?"

"Not really my thing, but if you..."

Alan's eyes had scanned the next few paintings to the right and what he saw hanging on the wall made him gasp...and swear!

Alan looked sharply at Clare and then moved closer to the painting. Clare followed him whispering, "What is it?"

Alan pointed up at the painting. He was too shocked to speak and was still pointing, open mouthed when Clare said, "Oh, I see what you mean!"

There, hanging on the wall, was a large painting of a nude woman. Not just a nude woman lying back erotically on a couch, but Marie! Nothing had been left to the imagination. No cloth, strategically placed, on this painting!

"That's Marie!" Alan gasped.

Clare peered closer at the painting. "You're right, it is Marie."

Just at that moment the man came from behind the counter and walked over to them.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked.

Alan found his tongue. "You don't happen to know when this was painted do you?"

"She's a stunner isn't she? No I wouldn't know that, but the artist lives nearby and he put a similar one up for sale four years ago. He made three paintings of this model, this is the last one. It would be a very good investment, he's an up and coming artist, this one."

"Do you know the address of the artist?" Alan asked, knowing that the first painting was probably painted whilst Marie was still his wife. Then Clare took control of the situation. Laughingly, she put her hands over Alan's eyes and led him back to the counter.

Alan felt so angry with Marie he couldn't say another word until they were outside of the shop. Clare had bought the painting of the children and the shop owner had given Alan the name and address of the artist for whom Marie had sat. They wandered to the sea front and were now leaning on the railings looking across the beach towards the sea; Alan carrying Clare's wrapped up painting.

"What are you going to do now?" Clare asked him. "I wouldn't buy the painting if I were you. It would only upset you to look at it... and anyway..."

"Look, if I buy that thing, I'm going to burn it! I don't want that rubbish on my wall!"

"But that's not fair to the artist, especially if someone else would really love it.  It could be worth something in time."

"You can never mind your own business, can you?" Alan snapped.

At once, he knew he had gone too far as he watched Clare turn away, run across the road and into their Hotel. A familiar feeling swept over him... he was a heel!

Alan glanced at his watch and saw it was 6.30 pm already and he was starting to feel hungry so he went to find her to apologise.