Ruby slept through the first alarm and shut off the second without opening her eyes.
By the time she got up, Mae had packed the last bag.
It stood beside the front door with the little blue print wrapped in cardboard. The spare room was empty except for Ruby's furniture and a hair grip on the windowsill.
Mae came out carrying the borrowed socks.
‘You gave me these,’ she said. ‘I wasn't sure whether—’
‘Keep them.’
Mae put them in the side of the bag. Ruby watched her do it, unable to think of another practical question except whether she had everything.
Mae put two keys and a folded sheet of paper on the kitchen table. ‘That's my new address,’ she said.
‘All right.’
Ruby picked up the wrapped print while Mae lifted the bag. They carried them down together. The car waiting outside belonged to the woman whose room Mae was renting; Ruby saw a hand raised in greeting through the windscreen and lifted her own.
Mae put the bag on the back seat. Ruby passed her the print.
For a moment neither let go. Then Ruby opened her fingers.
Mae stepped closer, then stopped. Ruby knew she wanted to hug her. She wanted it too, and she wasn't ready. Her face must have said enough, because Mae nodded and got into the car.
Ruby stood on the pavement as it pulled away. She hadn't thought the leaving would be quick. It was.
Upstairs, Ruby put Mae's keys in the drawer and left the address folded.
Then she stood in the spare-room doorway and looked at the empty chest of drawers.
She was glad Mae had somewhere to go. She was glad she had gone. Both things hurt.
The sitting room still held the packed stock from yesterday. Seven pieces had sold in the end: not enough to justify a triumphant photograph, enough to pay for the stall, some materials and more than a little of her time. The green jug was still there. Three people had admired it and one had said she would think about it.
Ruby had two names on the class interest sheet. One woman had paid a deposit before leaving. The woman in the yellow coat hadn't returned.
Ruby checked the figures once, wrote them down and put the list away. She didn't want to spend the day proving she should have turned down nine hundred pounds.
She unpacked the unsold pieces. When she got to the green jug, she put it on the windowsill instead of in the cupboard. It looked good there.
Jonah rang after lunch. He had sold five of the mixed frames and taken one order for a larger piece.
‘Would you like to come over later?’ he asked.
Ruby looked towards the spare room. ‘Here?’
‘If you want. I'm tired of the workshop.’
‘Yes. Here would be good.’
He arrived at six carrying a rolled-up paper parcel. Ruby raised her eyebrows.
‘For you,’ he said.
‘You didn't have to buy me anything.’
‘I wanted to. The join needed fixing before I could bring it.’
Inside was the faded seascape from the window: pink water, the ghost lighthouse, its small surviving door. Ruby stared, then started laughing.
‘You said it was terrible.’
‘It is. I repaired the join. I remain correct about the picture.’
She held it against the wall above the lamp. The pink looked warmer out of the shop window.
‘There,’ she said.
Jonah stepped back. ‘Really?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘I'll put it up, then.’
They found a hook in the drawer. Ruby marked the height and he held the frame while she checked it. It took five minutes and three disagreements about whether the lamp was too close.
When it was done, they sat on the sofa facing the window. Jonah stretched his legs and sighed. Ruby leaned against him, feeling the tired weight of her own body settle.
‘How was today?’ he asked.
‘Mae moved.’
He looked at her. ‘Hard?’
She nodded. ‘Quick. That was the strange part.’
He put his arm round her. She rested her head against his shoulder. For a while they watched the grey sky begin to change above the roofs.
Ruby told him about the woman in the yellow coat, the lost class booking and the first bowl sale. He told her about a customer who'd turned every one of his frames upside down before deciding he wanted none of them. Ruby laughed until she had to sit up.
‘You should have sold him the backs,’ she said.
‘Next time.’
She liked the next time. It was easy to say, with no declarations attached.
Jonah looked at the picture above the lamp. ‘It's better there than I expected.’
‘You can say I was right.’
‘I said it's better there than I expected.’
Ruby kissed his cheek, then his mouth. He turned towards her fully, one hand warm against the side of her neck. She could feel herself smiling into the kiss.
Later they lay on the sofa with the television on very quietly, missing most of what happened. Ruby's phone stayed on the table. She wasn't waiting for it.
‘There's a path past the old coastguard place,’ Jonah said. ‘Proper sea view. No bins.’
‘Does it have a gate?’
‘Possibly.’
‘You are losing my confidence.’
He squeezed her ankle. ‘Sunday?’
She looked at him. ‘Sunday.’
Outside, the sky darkened. The picture she'd wanted held its strange pink sea above them, and the green jug caught the last light at the window.
Ruby was sad. She was also having a good evening. When Jonah reached for her hand, she gave it to him.