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“Fincher," he says. "Jack Fincher. I'm an artist," he adds, a hint of apology in his voice. "An artist?" Lillian has not expected this reply. "Are you any good?" The man gives a wry smile. "If I say "yes", you will think me horribly conceited. And if I say "no", you'll probably vanish at the earliest possible opportunity and find someone far more interesting to talk to." "You wouldn't want me to vanish?" she asks, once more surprised at her daring. "No," he says, holding her gaze. "I wouldn't want you to vanish.”

Quote by Hannah Richell

Book:The Peacock Summer
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The Peacock Summer

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Hannah Richell

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“She is about to close the book and return it to the desk when she catches sight of a face passing on the flickering pages. She leafs her way back until she finds it again- not an entire face, but a section; an eye, the sweep of a cheekbone, the curved line of a neck observed from side-on; all illustrated as if seen in the reflection of a small, oval mirror. A car-wing mirror. She peers at the page more closely, breath held in her chest as the moment returns to her: sitting in Charles's new car, Jack scrunched in the back and Lillian in the front, a peacock barring their path. It is exactly how he would have seen her reflected back at him in the wing-mirror. As with the other drawings, the accuracy is remarkable. She is amazed at his ability to recall the smallest details. There is the pearl stud at her earlobe and the almost indiscernible beauty spot above her lip. Yet the more closely she studies the sketch, the more she is discomforted. It isn't just the precision of the pencil lines conjuring her on the paper- butt more the expression he has captured- a certain wistfulness she hadn't known she wore so plainly. The portrait feels so intimate; almost as if he had laid her bare on the page. She continues to leaf through the sketches and finds a second portrait. This time she is seated in the drawing room, her face turned to the window, the skirt of her dress falling in a fan to to the floor. A third reveals her standing on the terrace, leaning against the balustrade, a long evening dress sweeping about her legs. The night of the party. The next page shows just her arm, identifiable by a favorite diamond bracelet dangling at the wrist. The last is of her head and shoulders, viewed from behind, the curves of her neck rising up to a twisted knot of hair. Looking at the images she isn't sure how she feels; flattered to be seen, to be deemed worthy of his time and attention, though at the same time a little uncomfortable at the intimacy of his gaze and at the thought of having been so scrutinized when she hadn't even known he was watching her.”

Point Of ViewPortraitsLillian And JackSketches
Book:The Peacock Summer
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“Here we are," says Jack. Lillian stops and looks around, marveling at the high, green canopy and the soft light streaming through the branches. Overhead a magpie flits through the branches of a tree, rustling leaves until it takes flight with a mournful cry, its wings beating the air. "This is beautiful," she says. "Yes," agrees Jack. "It's like standing inside nature's own cathedral, don't you think?”

Natures BeautyLillian And Jack
Book:The Peacock Summer
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“A sigh leaves Jack's lips- a soft exhalation- and in that moment she is lost. There is no Cloudesley, no Charles, no ticking clocks, no past or future; there is nothing but the clearing and Jack, and their hands clasped together. When she looks up at him, his face seems closer, so close she can see the amber flecks in the slate-grey of his eyes. It is like gravity, she thinks, as she leans in towards him, her lips meeting his. Its is a force so natural- so inevitable- so like falling- or flying- that she isn't sure she could stop their kiss even if she tried.”

First KissLillian And JackMomentous
Book:The Peacock Summer
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“I don't think you two have even tried to beat me," says Albie with obvious dissatisfaction as he declares "Mahjong" for a final time. "Sorry, Albie," she says. "It just wasn't going my way today. Well done." She reaches across the table and begins to stack the tiles to pack them away, her hand accidentally brushing against Jack's as he simultaneously returns his pieces to the centre of the table. She glances at him, wondering if he too felt the surge of energy pass between them. "I'd like a rematch," says Jack, his eyes fixed firmly on Lillian's. "I feel sure I can only improve my performance with practice.”

SuggestiveLillian And Jack
Book:The Peacock Summer
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“I think it would be for the best if we both pretend yesterday afternoon- in the woods- it never happened. Wouldn't you agree?" "I would." He takes a step closer, his eyes still locked on hers. He is no longer smiling. "And I think we should avoid any future situations that put us in close proximity to each other." "Like this one?" "Yes." Jack nods, still holding her eye, and she tries hard to control the rise of blood to her face as a fragment of something from the woods comes back to her- the sensation of his fingers running down the curve of her collarbone, his mouth against her neck. "Good." She clears her throat. "I'm glad we understand each other." "We do." He takes another step towards her, so close now that she wonders if it is the breeze through the open window she can feel on her skin, or his warm breath. "I think that is our problem, Lillian. We understand each other. You and I, we seem to share something." Lillian can hear her heart beating in her ribcage. "I felt it that first moment I saw you... at the party." Lillian swallows. "You feel it too, don't you?" he asks. The sun, now low in the sky, filters through the trees outside in the arboretum, casting them both in a burnished glow. She knows she must go. She knows she must turn and leave the room, but something in his eyes holds her fixed to the spot. "Tell me that it's not just me, that I'm not imagining this," he says in a low voice. There is a stillness in the room, as if they both await the next breath, the next word. She swallows. "I feel it, too." She isn't sure who takes the next step but it doesn't really matter; she is in his arms again and he is kissing her, pulling her close and all reason and rational thought- all the jumbled arguments she has agonized over- fly away like a flock of birds startled from the branches of a tree. Her arms are wrapped around his waist and his hands are on her face and in her hair as they stumble backwards. She meets the edge of the desk, and then he is lifting her onto its surface, several brushes clattering to the floor as he presses against her. "We mustn't," she sighs, but already her fingers are tugging at the buttons of his shirt. She parts her legs and his hands move under her skirt, his fingertips grazing the bare skin above her silk stockings. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his breath hot against her neck. But she draws him to her again, pressing her mouth against his ear to whisper her answer. "Don't stop. I don't want you to stop.”

LoversLillian And Jack
Book:The Peacock Summer
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“Ever since the sparrowhawk... since that day... you've released something in me." He clears his throat, as if embarrassed, but he doesn't stop. "For days I was all angst and despair, tortured by the blank walls, uncertain how to cover such a vast space. Then, after that first night together, it was there; the idea arrived, almost fully formed. It's exhilarating, and terrifying." "Terrifying?" "Yes. I'm so gripped by it that I don't want to spend too much time away from the room. I'm terrified I will lose the thread of it if I don't keep going. There's a moment when you're creating, when you lose yourself in the act of it, when you know you're finally hitting the flow of the piece. That's what I'm desperate to hold on to. Though it's quite a challenge. The size of the room means I have to work a little differently. It's all an experimental process, a sort of unfolding." He reaches out to stroke her bare shoulder. "I've never felt so inspired, so excited by a piece's possibility." He glanced at her, that wry smile of his just visible in the darkness. "I think I may have discovered my Muse." "Cloudesley?" He laughs and shakes his head. "No, you clot. You." Lillian smiles. She can't think of a greater or more unexpected compliment than being called Jack's Muse.”

InspirationalMuseLillian And Jack
Book:The Peacock Summer
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