The Function to Breathe

Prologue

I'm not really sure where to start my story. Normal convention would have me start at the beginning and work my way through from there, but it doesn't feel quite right to do that. I'm not sure why. It just seems that you need to know a bit about my present before I tell you about my past. So I've decided I'm going to start with the day Ricky came back into my life after a gap of almost eighteen years.

But first, let me tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Cat, Cat Bliss if we're being semi-formal, Catherine Ruby Bliss if we're being really correct. I'm 37 years old and I live in a tiny cottage in the Cornish town of St Agnes. The cottage is in the cove, right down on the coast and I'm lucky enough to have a sea view from both my lounge and bedroom windows.

Every morning I walk up the hill into the town itself to the art gallery I help to run, and every evening I walk back down to my cosy little home. I've been here for a couple of years now and I completely love it. The cottage was in a dreadful state when I moved in, but gradually I've been able to do it up and now it's my dream home. I'd always wanted to live somewhere with a sea view, I just never thought I'd be in a position to do so.

The gallery - Atlantic Art - is owned by my friend Jack, who is also the principle artist exhibiting there. He's a photographer, although you'd never know it to look at him. He's a typical surf bum, longish, straggly blond hair, misty grey eyes and always dressed in jeans or cut off's and t-shirts, complete with flip flops most of the year. He does love to surf, but his first love is photography and he takes the most wonderfully atmospheric shots of the sea and local scenery I've ever seen. His work is popular, and over the last couple of years he's started to make quite a name for himself.

At this time of year the gallery is usually pretty quiet, we open every day as we both work from there; unless Jack is out taking photographs, he'll be in the small office at the back editing them and I often sit at the counter in the main part of the gallery and paint in between helping customers. My work is based around the sea and the local landscape as well, but I paint tiny watercolours, most of them only a couple of inches square.

We stock work from a few other local artists as well and in the summer the gallery is busy. Then we have a couple of other members of staff as well, but at this time of year Jack and I can easily manage it ourselves, with maybe just one additional person at the weekend.

Jack loves it in the summer when he's rushed off his feet, he revels in being busy and loves nothing more than a full gallery of customers buying from us. I prefer it at this time of year. I like peace and quiet and taking things slowly. Being too busy messes with my head, stresses me out and makes me anxious. I'm not sure how much I'm actually looking forward to the summer, last year it was pretty busy.

When I'm not at work I prefer solitude, I like peace and quiet. I've never been a big party animal, not even in my teens. I did party then, but I was always glad when the party ended and I could go home.

I'm quite happy to spend my evenings and weekends reading or painting, occasionally I get my sewing machine out and translate one of my paintings into a fabric and thread collage, but there's not really room for it in my tiny cottage. Being creative relaxes me. For a long time I tried to pretend I didn't need to do anything creative, I didn't pick up a paintbrush or a pencil or touch a sewing machine for years. But then I realised how much I needed it, how much it helped me to stay calm and happy and slowly I began to explore that side of myself again. Now my work is some of the most popular in the gallery.