‘Oh, it did, definitely. I mean, I really enjoyed it.’
‘Then you have found your metier. For now, at least, because an artist’s life is all about finding new ways of expressing themself.’
‘You mean, I might have a weird Picasso moment at some point?’ I chuckled.
‘Most painters do – including me – but I always came back to the style I felt most comfortable with.’
‘Well, I’ve certainly had a few of those moments in the past,’ I said, and told him about my weird installation last year.
‘Don’t you see that you were just using real objects to study shape and form? You were learning how to position the components on a canvas. All experimentation teaches you something.’
‘I’ve never looked at it like that before, but yeah, you’re right.’
‘You’re a natural-born artist, Celaeno, and now you have taken all those important first steps towards finding your own style, the sky is the limit. Just one thing, I noticed you haven’t signed the painting yet.’
‘I never do usually ’cos I don’t want anyone to know it was painted by me.’
‘Do you with this?’
‘Yeah. I do.’
‘Then you’d better get practising your signature,’ Francis advised me. ‘I promise that it’ll be the first of many.’
Later that afternoon, I took a thin brush and a tube of black oil and stood in front of the painting, readying myself to sign it.
Celaeno D’Aplièse?
CeCe D’Aplièse?
C. D’Aplièse . . . ?
Then a thought struck me and I wandered over to my grandfather, who was sitting on the veranda, whittling at a piece of wood.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Having a “Picasso moment”,’ he smiled at me. ‘Seeing what shapes I can create. It’s not going well. Signed your picture yet?’
‘No, ’cos the thing is that “Celaeno D’Aplièse” is a bit of a mouthful and I get really irritated when everyone pronounces the “D’Aplièse” wrong.’
‘You’re asking me if you should have a nom de plume?’
‘Yeah, but I don’t know what.’
‘I wouldn’t mind at all if you took my surname, even though that was a made-up one.’
‘Thanks, but then I’d be trading on your name and being your granddaughter and all and . . .’
‘You want to do it by your talent alone. I understand.’
‘So, I was thinking that, if your biological father had married your mum like he wanted to, your surname would have been Mercer?’
‘Yes, it would have been.’
‘And my mum’s, at least until she got married.’
‘Correct.’
‘So what do you think of “Celaeno Mercer”?’
My grandfather stared into the distance, as though his thoughts were flying back across all the generations of our family. Then he raised his eyes to mine.
‘Celaeno, I think it is perfect.’
*
When I woke up the next morning, I felt really odd. Like my time out here was over – for now – and there was somewhere else I needed to be, but I couldn’t think where. And having that thought meant I had to let reality begin flooding back in to help me decide on what exactly I was going to do with my life from here. I didn’t even know what day it was, let alone the date, so I walked into breakfast and asked Francis, feeling really embarrassed.
‘Don’t worry, losing track of time simply means you’re fully engaged in what you’re doing. It’s the twenty-fifth of January.’
‘Wow,’ I said, feeling amazed that less than a month had passed since I’d left Thailand, and at the same time wondering where the time had gone.
He stared at me quizzically. ‘You’re thinking where do you go from here, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, I am a bit.’
‘I don’t need to tell you how much I’d like it if you stayed for a while. Not in this hut, of course – I have a very comfortable house in the Alice with plenty of room for the two of us. But maybe you have other places to go, other people to see . . .’
‘The thing is . . .’ I rubbed my palms on the top of my trousers, feeling agitated. ‘I’m just not sure. There’s a couple of situations that are a . . . bit confusing.’
‘I find in life that there always are. Do you want to talk about them?’
I thought about Star, then Ace and Chrissie, and shook my head. ‘Not right now.’
‘Fine. Well, I was thinking that I’d probably head back to the Alice later today, as long as you don’t want to stay here any longer. Even I’m looking forward to a decent bath!’
‘Yeah, that sounds really good,’ I agreed, trying to force a smile.
‘I also have some photograph albums there which I could show you.’
‘I’d love to see them,’ I said.
‘For now, why don’t you take a walk? That’s what I always do when I’m having to make decisions.’
‘Okay, I will.’
So off I headed, and as I walked, I imagined going back to London and, with my newfound style, standing in my beautiful apartment and painting every day all by myself. Granted, Star would be only a train journey away, not living on the other side of the world, but I knew she would never be coming back for longer than maybe an overnight stay, so we could catch up on each other’s lives. Ace was also in London, locked up in some scummy prison amongst murderers and sexual deviants. At the very least, I felt I owed him an explanation, and a show of support. Whether he believed me or not, it didn’t really matter. It was just the right thing to do.
Then there was home-home – Atlantis, and Ma, both of whom I hadn’t visited for almost seven months, but I couldn’t imagine my future there. Even though one day, I did want to paint the view across Lake Geneva with the mountains behind it.
That was Europe. So, what about Australia, the country I’d always been too terrified to visit? Yet, the past weeks had been the most amazing of my whole life. It was cheesy to even think it, but it felt like I’d been reborn. Like all the bits of me that hadn’t fitted in Europe had been stripped down and rearranged so that they – I – was a better ‘whole’. Just like my installation. I’d never managed to get it perfect, but then I’d never be perfect either. But I knew I was better, and that was good enough.
My grandfather, Chrissie . . . they were here too. So far, I hadn’t had to earn their love, because it had been offered to me unconditionally, but I knew I wanted to in the future.
And as I stood in the middle of this huge, open space with the sun beating down far too hard on my tender head, I realised there wasn’t a decision to be made.
I turned tail and walked back to the hut.
*
‘I belong here,’ I told my grandfather as we sat in a restaurant in the Alice a few hours later, eating my new favourite – kangaroo. ‘It’s as simple as that.’
‘I’m glad,’ he said, the inherent joy in his eyes telling me just how much he was.
‘Although I do have to go back to England to sort out some stuff, you know?’