Summer in February by Jonathan Smith

were lost in his small marine world of green weed and shells and tiny rocks,
     with submerged sea anemones half retracting their tentacles. He lightly tapped the glass with his pencil, causing a tiny rhythmic
     stirring of growths.
    ‘There she is, Gilbert!’
    Gilbert’s face was only a few inches from Florence’s, only a few inches from the glass. He asked:
    ‘Does he run art classes in Newlyn every day?’
    ‘Yes, but we’re going three days a week. We can comfortably manage that, and Papa insists on a progress report on both of
     us, you see, at the end of each month, and if Joey backslides—’
    ‘Look at the stem, Gilbert, and the colour … ever seen anything so
mauve
?’
    Joey pointed into the gleaming stillness. Florence moved on to her knees. Joey tapped the glass again.
    ‘That’s the column … and the mouth … and the disc … but look at the beadlet, it’s very like the strawberry, see the difference,
     and you can see it’s much smaller than the snakelocks … and that one … there … is the plumose … come on, open your … there
     … now look at those reds and greens. Do you think the world of art offers any greater mystery or any greater beauty? Do you?’
    Florence stared at Gilbert’s reflection and watched his mouth as he asked:
    ‘So you’ll be here in Lamorna some months then?’
    It took her a few seconds to react, to stop staring at his reflected mouth, and then she saw the strawberry and the reds and
     the mauves and the anemones opening and closing their mouths. She gulped and turned slowly to Gilbert.
    ‘That’s what I plan, but if Joey lets me down, if Papa thinks for one moment his son is wasting his time and his money on
     these poisonous blobs of jelly which attack you, neither of us will be happy and neither of us will be allowed to keep this
     cottage or stay down here, I promise you that’s true, Joey, and you know it, and all your precious anemones won’t save us.’
    ‘Yes, yes,’ he said mechanically, ‘I know all that.’
    Florence’s eyes appealed to Gilbert. Gilbert nodded and turned to his young friend.
    ‘You really must,’ Gilbert said. ‘We
all
want you both to stay.’
    ‘Yes – yes,’ Joey mumbled, ‘don’t
you
start as well, Gilbert. I’ve come here to show you the snakelocks, not be given a sermon, so if you don’t mind … I’ll just
     check the salinity.’
    ‘You really want to be a painter, then?’ Gilbert asked Florence, straightening up, feeling a bit like the piggy in the middle.
     She laughed abruptly.
    ‘Why else do you think I’m here? And we have every opportunity to improve, we’ve got the Knights as neighbours, imagine that,
     imagine what I can learn from Laura and Harold Knight. Imagine what
he
could learn from them, if he
wanted
to.’
    ‘She’s awfully good,’ Joey said, nodding at his sister, ‘do show Gilbert your latest—’
    She shook her head at her brother’s praise and stood up.
    ‘Some other time, I think. We’ve only just met.’
    ‘I’d love to,’ Gilbert said. ‘Whenever. I really would.’
    All three of them turned away from the aquarium.
    ‘The best thing you can do for me, Gilbert, if you really want to help, is to encourage
him
’ – she poked Joey’s arm with her long fingers – ‘to take his lessons seriously.
Don’t
smile at me, Joey! I hate it when you do that, it is so superior, and so infuriating. You see, let’s be honest, dear brother,
     Papa already considers art little more than daubing, and if you let me down I shall be dreadfully annoyed.’
    Having spoken so sharply, with a sudden softening she kissed her recalcitrant brother and kept her arms wrapped around him.
     Gilbert could now see the outline of her backbone through her dress, and the way her long hair fell. Joey looked over his
     sister’s shoulder, winking slowly at Gilbert.
    ‘You can rely on Gilbert to keep me up to the mark, can’t you, Gilbert?’
    ‘Yes you can, you can indeed.’
    Back in the