Six weeks later, Ruby found a lump of dry clay in the pocket of her coat.
She took it out at the studio, tried to remember which day she'd put it there, and gave up. It looked like a tooth. She sent Jonah a picture.
New work. Very exclusive.
His reply came a few minutes later.
I'll need exact dimensions. Customer deserves a good frame.
She put the clay on the shelf above her wheel, where it could continue its promising career, and went back to the handles she was making.
Her first hall workshop had been held two weeks ago. Four people came. Two had made bowls, one had made a cup too heavy to lift comfortably, and one had taken an hour deciding on a shape before producing something Ruby couldn't name. All four had paid.
There had been a problem with the room key, clay on the carpet despite the sheet she'd put down, and an unexpectedly warm moment when the woman making the strange shape asked if she could come again.
Ruby had brought their fired pieces to the studio for collection. The heavy cup was ready. Its maker had chosen a bright yellow glaze that made the awkward handle look quite cheerful. Ruby turned it so the name label faced out and set it with the others.
She wasn't running two classes a month. She was considering one more, if enough people wanted it. The cupboard at home still held unsold work. The green jug stayed at the window because she liked seeing it when she came in.
Outside the studio, her phone lit with Mae's name.
They had exchanged a few messages since she left. A parcel sent to the old address. A question about whether a jacket was still hanging behind the spare-room door. Mae had said she'd begun paying Dan back from her wages. Ruby hadn't asked for proof, or asked how he had taken it.
Jonah had written to Mae after the market. He'd apologised for naming her and inventing the sale, and asked whether she wanted a correction on his work page. He wouldn't post about her again without asking. Mae hadn't answered. When he asked Ruby whether she thought Mae had read it, Ruby told him to leave her out of it. He hadn't asked again.
She opened the new message.
Would you meet me for a coffee next week? I miss you. You can say no. I won't keep asking.
Ruby sat on the low wall outside the studio. It was dry for once. She could see the main road, a strip of sea beyond it, and a woman carrying flowers with the stems sticking out of the bag.
She missed Mae too. There were things she still reached to tell her, before remembering. A ridiculous coat in a window. A song heard unexpectedly in a shop. A customer who'd asked whether a handmade bowl could be made exactly the same but cheaper.
She had told Jonah some of them. Not all. He didn't need to become the person she told everything to.
She read Mae's message again. A coffee didn't have to mean putting the keys back in her hand. It didn't have to mean telling her what Ruby was afraid of, or what she'd felt in bed that morning, or letting her answer for someone else.
Ruby typed, Tuesday at three? The place by the library. I've got about an hour.
She sent it before making the invitation into a test Mae couldn't possibly pass.
The answer came quickly.
Yes. Thank you. I'll see you there.
Ruby put the phone away. She stayed on the wall for another minute, then went inside to wash her hands.
That afternoon she carried a small wrapped parcel to Jonah's workshop. He was talking to a customer, showing her two frame samples beneath the picture she'd brought. Ruby waited by the door until they had decided.
When the customer left, Jonah looked at the parcel.
‘Am I being compensated for tolerating your opinions?’
‘I'm making them worse. Open it.’
Inside was a shallow dish, dark green at the rim, pale within. Ruby had made one side rise slightly higher than the other. A short red line stopped just before the lifted edge.
Jonah turned it carefully.
‘That would make a terrible frame,’ he said.
‘Good. We're agreed.’
He put it on the corner of his bench. Then he lifted it again and moved it out of the way of a pile of wood.
‘Keys,’ Ruby suggested.
‘Don't tell me what to put in my expensive art.’
He took his keys out of his pocket and dropped them into it. The little clink made her smile.
She stayed while he finished a delivery label. Her phone was in her bag. She could tell him about Mae's message now, and she probably would later. She didn't want to spend every good hour updating somebody about the difficult ones.
‘Ready?’ she asked.
He checked the clock. ‘Nearly.’
‘You said that last time.’
‘Last time you distracted me.’
‘It was a very minor kiss.’
‘You have a poor sense of measurement.’
Ruby leaned against the bench and watched him stick the label on. He was taking her out to the headland this afternoon. They had walked the path once already, when the wind was so strong they had turned back and laughed about it all the way into town. Today the sky was clear.
She'd bought one of his little mixed frames after the market and put a photograph of that failed walk inside. In the picture, Jonah's hair stood straight up and most of Ruby's face was hidden by her sleeve. He'd objected to the photograph. She'd put it beside her bed.
He put on his jacket, lifted the new dish once more to inspect the red line and then held out his hand.
Ruby took it.
Outside, they turned towards the sea. She had an afternoon free, a path she wanted to follow and somebody beside her who'd forgotten where he'd left his sunglasses.
They went back for them. Then they tried again.