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Authors: Katie Fforde

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BOOK: Artistic Licence
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In the following days Thea was very busy. The slides arrived, and guiltily, she kept them to herself. They were wonderful, and if Rory saw them, he’d want to send them to America straight away. She kept a careful eye on the pups, especially the little one, who seemed hungry and active enough, but didn’t grow at the rate the others did. Having done that, she organised Rory.

First, they visited his friend who framed the animal pictures. He agreed to mount and frame the huge roll of drawings and sketches only if he was paid a deposit. ‘I’m sorry, Thea,’ he said with a sad twinkle, ‘but this fella, although he’s a lovely man, already owes me more money than you can shake a stick at.’

Tight-lipped, Thea observed how picturesque was his use of language and wrote a large cheque. For the first time she regretted putting all her money into her house and not having a mortgage. But maybe she could suggest to Molly that she might like to invest in a fine artist, otherwise she would have to put the rent up quick-smart and put a lodger in her darkroom.

When she was sure that Rory’s cheaper works of art would be framed well and made certain that he had a painting on the go, which would take up all his attention and not allow him to think about researching his American contacts (thank goodness there was no
computer in the house and Rory had barely heard of the Internet), and when she was certain that Susan knew about Lara needing four times as much food as usual, she decided it was time to leave.

She and Rory took a last trip out to see the seals, a last walk up the hill behind the house and she made sure there was plenty of nourishing food in his cupboards. She would be very sad to leave the cottage. It was an idyllic spot, but real life went on elsewhere, for her at least.

She handed Rory the book she had bought about rearing puppies. ‘It tells you when to put them on to solids. In fact, it tells you everything. In eight weeks, which is a month less than the time I’ve got to get my gallery up and running’ – she said this to rub in how unreasonable he was being – ‘I’ll be back to collect my puppy. The little one.’

‘Sure, he’ll die, won’t he?’

‘If he dies, Rory, I’ll … just don’t let him die.’

She’d asked Susan to take her to the airport, giving her money she didn’t have to do so. She looked out of the window as they drove, partly excited but mostly terrified.

These are my last moments as a carefree, hand-to-mouth, solvent woman
, she thought.
When I get back home I’ve got to join the real world, arrange loans, find premises, do things that grown-up people do
. She sighed so deeply that Susan noticed and looked at her. Thea smiled quickly. ‘Had a bit of a late night last night.’

‘Oh. Had you?’

‘Susan, you may not care about this one way or the other, but I might as well tell you. Rory and I haven’t slept together. I’m only interested in his work.’

‘You hadn’t seen his work before you came here, but you came anyway.’

‘I know. I was suffering from delusions. I thought I wanted a fling with a beautiful young man. What I wanted was a proper job.’

Chapter Ten

When Thea opened her front door she was bracing herself for chaos but the hall was much as usual, dusty, with the pictures hanging slightly askew on the walls, where people had knocked them as they went through, but there were no bags of rubbish blocking the door. Although this was a relief, Thea knew that it was just the tip of the iceberg. The kitchen might reveal the seven-eighths of mess below the surface.

But it didn’t. Everything shone and everything was eerily missing. It was either exceptionally tidy, or the anti-clutter burglars had been, taking everything, including the washing-up liquid.

No. There was a note on the table. ‘Dear Thea, I made them clear up. Hope you had a lovely time. How are the puppies?’

Thea suddenly felt very fond of Petal. How she’d managed to bully her other lodgers into producing this gleaming result she could only imagine, but she had and it had probably been very unpleasant for them. But for her, coming back after a comparatively long journey, it was bliss, at least until she needed to find anything.

The kettle was crammed into the cupboard with the saucepans, fairly easy to track down, and Thea filled it.

Just then the telephone rang. Thea’s heart lurched.
She had been thinking about the puppies a lot during the journey from Ireland. Lara was a perfectly good mother, but the little one, known now as ‘Little Chap’ needed to be latched on for extra feeds. Susan would do it when she was there, but Rory was unlikely to remember, although Thea had taped a large note reminding him above Lara and the pups. She couldn’t face the thought of bad news.

The answering machine clicked on. ‘It’s Molly. I’ve looked at lots of properties for you, all hopeless. Do you want to do it yourself when you’re back, or shall I just carry on? Give me a ring. By the way, Derek’s thrilled I’ve got a new project.’

Thea sipped her tea contemplatively, relieved it wasn’t Susan. Having Molly on your side was a very mixed blessing. She had bags of energy and enthusiasm and ideas, which was wonderful, but on the other hand she was so bossy, so certain she was right that she was likely to take over completely. Should she politely but firmly insist on taking the list of properties still to view and tell Molly she could manage on her own now?

The second sip of tea brought her to the conclusion that this wasn’t possible. Firstly because she would never have the courage to tell Molly, however nicely, where to get off, and secondly she probably
couldn’t
manage on her own now. Even with Molly batting for her it was a vast, probably impossible project.

When the phone rang again she picked up her mug and answered it. It would probably be for Petal anyway.

‘Oh, hi,’ said a slightly surprised-sounding deep male voice. ‘I was expecting the machine. Ben Jonson
here.’

‘Oh, hello.’ Thea felt her stomach give an unexpected little flip, in a way it hadn’t since she was at school.

‘I’ve got to be down your way to visit a client. I wondered if I could call in and talk to you? Next week?’

Thea was torn. She knew she would be very busy next week, but on the other hand she was surprised to find how much she wanted to see him. ‘Well, of course. But couldn’t you talk now?’ She was proud of herself. The sensible answer.

There was a pause. ‘Well, we could, I suppose. I’ve got gallery space for Rory.’

‘Oh.’ This was good news. She wanted Rory’s pictures to be shown in a gallery. So why did she feel so deflated? ‘How clever of you.’

‘Yes.’ Ben sounded pleased. ‘We were very lucky. A good gallery, with lots of space, has had a cancellation unexpectedly. I heard about it and got in before anyone else did.’

‘Excellent.’ Really, Thea wanted to say ‘oh, pooh’, like Petal did, or stamp her foot. What a shame she was a grown-up. ‘Will you tell Rory, or shall I?’

There was a pause. ‘If you give me the number, I will.’

After a bit of burrowing in her handbag she produced the relevant bit of paper. ‘Remind him to latch Little Chap on to Lara, whenever he remembers. Even if he’s asleep.’

‘Little Chap? Charming. I’ll tell Toby and I’ll remind Rory.’

‘I hope there’s time to get all the framing done.’ She
couldn’t help sounding fractious. She’d worked very hard organising the framing and had paid for it herself. Now some posh London gallery was going to sweep in and get all the credit.

‘Oh, there should be plenty of time. The space isn’t available until early next year.’

‘Next year?’ A smile spread over Thea’s face. She couldn’t be certain that Rory would consider this too long a wait, but she was in with a chance. ‘He only gave me three months.’

‘Yes, but Thea, no offence, there’s a slight difference between a major London venue –’

‘And a small provincial gallery that hasn’t even got premises yet? I know.’ She paused for a second. ‘Well, let me know how you get on.’

She ended the call, feeling pleased with herself, in spite of Ben’s news. She felt she’d handled the call well. Wasn’t there something in
The Rules
about finishing phone calls first? Or was that only with men you were dating? She’d better fish out her copy and reread it. For some reason she felt herself flush. Why was she thinking of Ben in terms of dating?

She decided to ring Molly back before she got into the bath. She was likely to be just as disappointed as Thea was and depressing news was better delivered when dressed.

Molly was satisfyingly annoyed. ‘After all our plans. And all those dreary buildings! What a waste! And I got so filthy.’

‘It’s supposed to be good news. We want Rory’s work shown in a London gallery, don’t we?’

Molly made a satisfyingly dismissive noise. ‘Quite frankly, I don’t care where Rory’s work is shown, or
even if it moulders in his shed for ever. I wanted to open an art gallery!’ There was a tiny pause. ‘Help you open one, I mean.’

Thea sighed. ‘I did, too. But we have to be happy for Rory.’

‘I suppose so. Damn! I was looking forward to being a working woman again.’

‘Well, I must go and have a bath now before the lodgers start coming home and I can’t get near the bathroom.’ Thea put the phone down decisively, pleased that her brush with great art and her subsequent plans for it, though brief, had made her able to end phone calls without resort to a candle and a smoke alarm.

When the phone rang again, just as Thea had lowered her body into a bath that was the perfect temperature, was doused with some very expensive bath oil left over from Christmas, just as a really interesting programme came on Radio Four, she was very tempted to leave it. But it rang again, just after the answerphone kicked in, which might have meant it was urgent.

It was Ben. ‘Bloody Rory! He says he won’t wait a year.’

‘So it’s back to plan A, then.’ Thea tried hard to keep the growing smile out of her voice. Even naked and dripping she felt inordinately pleased.

‘Yes! He’d rather go with you or send the paintings to New York. He says he’s not going give the Cork Street crowd a chance, after they snubbed him last time.’

‘Good for him! I knew he was a nice boy.’

Ben’s disparaging grunt was even better than Molly’s. It must be a family characteristic – an ability to be dismissive without resort to words. ‘You, trying to open a gallery with no experience, is a completely hair-brained scheme, if I may say so.’

‘Say what you like. Words are free.’

‘And how he can turn down the opportunity of a lifetime just because …’ He took a deep, possibly calming breath. ‘I’ll be down on Wednesday. About eleven? I’m seeing the client at half past eight, so I should be finished by then.’

‘Oh.’ Thea felt confused. ‘I thought you were coming down to tell me about the gallery in London. Which I know about now and it’s all off anyway. So why are you coming?’

Ben sighed. ‘I had a feeling that Rory would turn down Cork Street, he’s such an eejit. You know he’s not really Irish at all? All those quaint little Irishisms are just put on?’

‘You mentioned it.’

‘So I’m coming to talk you out of this ridiculous plan.’

Thea laughed, feeling suddenly light-hearted. ‘Well, you can try.’

‘I’ll meet you at the house.’

‘Fine. I’ll make some lunch.’

‘Oh, don’t do that.’ The idea seemed to horrify him. Probably far too domestic. ‘We’ll go out. See you on Wednesday, then.’

His ending of the call was far brisker than hers had been, but nevertheless a smile was pulling at the corners of Thea’s mouth. She still needed to set up an art gallery and Ben was coming to see her.

She dialled Molly’s number. ‘I’m going to be very quick because I’m naked, dripping wet and the bath’s getting cold, but Rory’s turned down the London gallery. We’re still in business.’

‘Lovely,’ said Derek. ‘I’ll tell Molly; she’ll be pleased.’

‘Thank you.’ Meekly, Thea replaced the receiver and hurried back to the bath as she heard a key in the front door.

The following Wednesday, when Thea opened the door to Ben, who was scarily prompt, she didn’t know what to say. Really she should have told him immediately that he was completely wasting his time, she couldn’t or wouldn’t be talked out of her project. She settled for, ‘Do you want to come in?’

He shook his head. ‘I called in on Molly and she gave me all these.’ He shook a sheaf of papers derisively. ‘Apparently they’re potential art galleries.’

‘Oh.’ Thea put out her hand to take them.

He held them out of reach. ‘I thought we’d go round them together, so you can see for yourself how totally impossible the whole project is.’

She felt she really should ask Ben why he was helping her, when actually, it was nothing to do with him whether her gallery failed or not. But she didn’t. Because she didn’t want him to tell her she was absolutely right and turn round and go home. Her vision of him smacking his forehead with his hand as he realised his mistake made her smile.

Ben scowled down at her, wondering why she was smiling and not wanting to ask. ‘We can have lunch when we’ve got these out of the way.’

There was no denying it was fun. The first two were far too small and poky to display anything bigger than intimate watercolours, but the last space was much more encouraging – at least on paper.

BOOK: Artistic Licence
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