Chapter 13

Those few weeks flew by before we moved her equipment into her remodelled workshop, a period during which Lucy turned twenty one. That particular event was celebrated on three different occasions; a small meal with her parents, a good old knees up party for her friends and a very intimate and romantic night at a country hotel for just the two of us. As a birthday present I added more tools and equipment to her collection. It was another three weeks after that before the gallery and the flat were fitted out. The latter turned out well too.

When I followed up all the discussions that I and Sheila had had with other artists and craftsmen we had easily filled the gallery and most of the stock room as well. Lars Gudmundssen was a young Scandinavian artist who had settled in The Potteries after meeting and falling for an even younger local girl, aptly named, Sarah Potter. When he heard about the flat he pestered me until I said he could have it. He and Sarah moved in even before it was completely finished. One of the offers he made to help clinch the flat was that he and Sarah would run the gallery on weekends. Like many Scandinavians, Lars spoke almost perfect English, better in fact that many born here, and I was happy to take him up on the deal. I did however stipulate that twice a month, one of the contributing artists must work the shop.

The Oatcake Gallery opening was well advertised in and well supported by the local press. Of course, it was only a big event in a very small pond but everyone was delighted at the turnout. The prices had been set at the top end for the locality, reasoning that prices could far easier be reduced than increased. All but one of the contributors were present to help push their work. Almost all the paintings and each of the four sculptures sold, as well as a good mix from the other crafts. I was pleased that all of Terry's range that I had on display sold along with a few of my other pots. Lucy managed to sell over half of her entire stock, so she was overjoyed.

Terry was there along with her London friend, the latter was not too impressed, complaining that it was just another arty shop not a true gallery like the one in which she worked. I ignored her comments but was happy to see Terry defend us. Terry had produced a wonderful label with the logo 'Oatcake Ware — designed by Terry Doherty' and was thrilled to bits when she was asked to sign come of the ones that sold.

I knew many of the guests. Jane had put the word round and a high proportion of the football mums turned up, usually dragging along reluctant partners. It might have helped that most of my daughter's footballing friends had been cajoled into acting as waitresses for the evening. Probably there for a similar reason as the parents, I was still delighted to see Sarah Fielding and Helen Piper from the school and we spent a pleasurable few minutes talking. A few ex-colleagues also showed up, amongst them Bill McElney and Stephanie Evans. I intentionally kept away from those two so they stayed and actually purchased three paintings, including two of Lars'.

That night Lucy was in ebullient mood and our lovemaking echoed that fact. Prior to that our sex life had become more loving as our feelings for each other grew but on this occasion it was pure animal lust on my nymph's part, leaving me no alternative but to respond accordingly. By the time we finally settled down to hold each other I was physically drained and even my dynamic little Lucy was completely shattered. I distinctly recall that, but nothing more until I heard my daughter banging on the door and shouting.

'Are you two going to get up this morning or do you need medical attention, ' she shouted.

Still ninety percent asleep, which even then was less than my wonderful lover still luxuriously wrapped in my arms, I replied, 'Ugh!'

'You are supposed to be at the Oatcake in thirty minutes, ' my daughter shouted through the door in obvious amusement.

'Okay, be up soon, ' I mumbled, before her words' meaning filtered through my muggy head.

Shaking Lucy awake I fell out of bed and began to get ready.

The three of us managed to get to the gallery just on time. All three were red in the face; my daughter from laughing so hard at our embarrassment when she bemoaned her lack of sleep due to the loud and strange cries coming from my bedroom the previous night.

As expected the place was a mess. Sarah and Sheila were already in the process of tidying up. I started to help but was shooed away to deal with all the paperwork the opening had generated. Some time later Sheila brought me a cup of coffee in and we sat talking for a while. She had assumed the role of house mother to the others involved and tried to thank me at every occasion. Neither of us had expected the opening to be as good as it was but we both knew that it was only now that the real test started. Could we generate enough interest to maintain everyone's continued involvement?

I went out to the bank at lunchtime and asked Kate to join me. I was glad to see a few more familiar faces had turned up during the morning to help. Sarah, who apart from Kate was the youngest there, seemed in charge with even Sheila prepared to do as she asked. I noticed with a smile that she did always ask, never tell, but in a way that had everyone happily agreeing. A good portent. Lucy, unsurprisingly, had retreated to her workshop.

'Okay Dad give!' Kate said smiling as soon as we were in the car.

'What?'

'Why am I here? You don't need me to go to the bank with you, so what do you want?'

'Damn, why are you so smart, at least about me?' I complained with a grin.

'Too easy to read with all the practice I've had.'

'How would you feel if I asked Lucy to move in with us?' I asked suddenly serious and rather nervous.

'Terrible!' she responded equal solemn.

My heart sank instantly and I missed most of her next few words. ' ... noise ... beauty sleep.'

Not understanding I looked at my daughter to see her grinning before she actually burst out laughing, pointing at me and saying, 'the ... look ... on your ... face ... magic!'

I then realised that she was winding me up. 'I don't mind at all Dad, ' she said after calming down a little. 'Are you sure it's what you want?'

'Yes, I've thought long and hard about it and I think it is the next step.'

'Then go for it.'

That evening I did. As soon as Kate headed to her room I asked Lucy how she felt about moving in with me.

'Is this a proposal?' she asked nowhere near as surprised as I'd expected her to be.

'No, ' I replied, 'although if you agree and it works out then that could well be on the horizon. I'll be really truthful with you. I don't love you, at least as I did Jennifer, but and it is a big but, I am talking about how much I loved her at the end, not at the beginning of our marriage. As far as I can remember I have at least the same feelings for you now as I had for my wife when we were first married.'