She just had to pick a colour and apply it to her clean fresh walls. All of them. No small job. Today’s task was to finish the undercoat. By late afternoon she could tick the spare bedroom and hallway off her list. As the last shards of evening light filtered through the bay window in the living room, Nicole lifted Ivy’s next letter back out of the box. Her old friend’s life was coming together, which was more than she could say for her own mess.

2nd July, 1957

My Dearest Tom,

It will come as no surprise to learn that I have failed miserably in my efforts to become a Renaissance artist, though I must admit the attempt has been more fun than I imagined it would be. I have laughed more in these past few weeks than I have in ever so long.

Lucy is also glowing, though I suspect it has more to do with our rather dashing young teacher, Fabricio, than our stunning surroundings or the sun that has kissed our skin with brown. His passion for art is quite infectious. And while I clearly have no talent, his gentle humour even has Old Dowager Kendle smiling when she thinks no one is watching. She is one of the other students here, and she has done her best to break our spirits with her pious attitude and scathing criticisms of our work, but she has not succeeded. How can any of us take note of her bitterness when we are immersed each day in such sweet beauty? Max, a rather loud Texan, who at first meeting you would never think would be interested in art, has even abandoned trying to turn her round. He is perhaps the most talented artist amongst us.

Fabricio has politely suggested I might wish to try another creative avenue and has a friend who teaches sculpture in the evenings. Do you think I could be any worse at that than I am at painting?

So, I am continuing with my art lessons in the morning, mostly for the company, and then I wander through the shops and cafés in the afternoon. Sometimes I find a tiny museum to explore on my own while Lucy and Fabricio visit art galleries. She says they are only friends. He is married, after all. I believe she is concealing the truth of her feelings from me. But who am I to judge? If she is happy, I am happy.

From Monday I will begin the sculpture class at night. We may yet unleash a hidden talent.

Please stop laughing.

I must remember to thank Lucy for dragging me here. We are already talking about a trip for next summer.

I have included a photo of Lucy and I with our latest paintings.

I miss you, my love.

Forever yours,

Ivy

Nicole ran her fingers around the edge of the small black and white image.