Beauty is in the eye

Her father may have had little faith in her, but Nadine had more artistic instinct than anyone imagined...

- Andrew Shah

Nadine looked at the horse. It was cross-eyed – and an odd shade of mauve.

‘Oh, Dad,’ she sighed, stepping closer to the animal’s distorted face hanging in its frame above the fireplace.

It really was dreadful.

Her father, Bill, had painted it and then proudly hung it in his tiny living room.

It had terrified and amused friends and members of the family for years. Children would cry when confronted with its toothy grin and adults sniggered when Bill boasted of his artistic talents.

‘The eyes follow you around the room,’ he’d grin.

And Nadine would think, well, one of them does!

Now Bill had passed away, and she was sorting through his things, deciding on what to throw out and what should go to the charity shop.

Tears came to her eyes as she looked at the horse again. She just couldn’t make up her mind.

Would anyone want to look at that ugly painting on their wall?

Putting on the kettle, she made herself a brew, then flopped down onto her dad’s favorite chair. All around her were boxes filled with his clothes, his books, and a few cheap ornaments.

The memories soon came flooding back…

It hadn’t been the happiest childhood for her and her brother, Mark. Their parents had rowed constantly – over money usually. There just never seemed to be enough of it, but somehow her father could always afford bits of kit for his numerous hobbies. He’d come home from his job having bought a box of assorted second-hand electrical parts and disappear off to his ‘laboratory’, as he called it, in the garden shed.

Would anyone really want to look at that ugly painting?