What Rose didn't tell Orla, was that she'd check with the art department at Fleetwood's as well in case they had any work they could give her in the mean time.
"Really?" Rose asked the question around her spoon, not waiting to dig into the hot, fudgy syrup. "So you didn't meet him when he came to Dover?" Plucking at the cherry on top of her ice cream, she dunked it in the sauced before popping it between her teeth, the stem finally giving up the tug of war. "Why not?"