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Authors: Katie Fforde

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BOOK: Artistic Licence
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‘But how are you going to persuade him to hold back from the US? Why should he wait for you to set up your gallery in Long Shufflebottom, or whatever, where nobody may ever see it, when he could have a great, big, grand opening in some wonderful Manhattan loft in a matter of months, not years? I mean, if he has to wait for you to start a gallery from scratch, he might as well wait for a London gallery to have space.’

Thea felt a cloud pass over her enthusiasm and at the same time a breeze got up, making her feel chilly. ‘No reason at all. I’ll just have to convince him that he must.
I know it’s all a dream, really, but I’ve got to try, or I’ll regret it for ever.’

Ben got to his feet and held out his hand to pull her up. ‘I suppose that’s true.’

By the time Thea was standing by Ben’s side she felt more cheerful. She’d had a helping hand, literally. It must be a good omen.

Molly walked up to look at the work while it was still displayed outside the studio. Thea went with her, thinking it was possible she might need a rich patron. ‘They’re very good, aren’t they, Molly?’ she insisted, after Molly had inspected them in silence. ‘Wouldn’t you like one?’

‘I can tell they’re very well painted. Our week in Aix has taught me that much, but they’re so large. And I thought landscapes were out of fashion. I thought it was representational art, now. You know, pictures of things you can recognise?’

Thea did know what representational meant, but she wasn’t really abreast of the most recent fashion trends of contemporary art. And here she was, planning to devote her life to it.

‘I’ve only got one small space in the hall,’ Molly went on, not noticing Thea’s little panic attack. ‘Where the hunting prints run out, and another in the downstairs loo. Although I would like to help Rory out.’

‘Well, I’m glad you think they’re good, even if you can’t buy one,’ said Thea. She could tell Molly her grand plans later, when she’d spoken to Rory.

It was hard to get Rory on his own. Elated by everyone’s appreciation of his pictures, he had opened
a bottle of Paddy. Petal was his only co-drinker, but it was still difficult to talk seriously about anything.

Molly had found a bed and breakfast nearby and announced that she and Petal would be staying in it. ‘That means Thea won’t have to sleep in the bath any more,’ she announced, giving Thea an ambivalent look. ‘And I can have an en suite. What about you, Ben? Are you and Toby happy to stay here?’ She didn’t actually say that Thea needed chaperoning, but the implication was clear.

Ben glanced at Toby, who said, ‘I’d like to be near the pups.’

‘If that’s all right with Rory, I think we’ll stay put. It’s only for a few days. We’ve planned to go down the Burren later.’

Rory, who’d recently lived the life of a hermit, had suddenly become very hospitable. He waved a liberal hand. ‘You might as well hang around. I want to talk to you about the work, anyway.’

Having shown no one for years, now his work had been on show, even to such a small audience, Rory wanted to talk about it all the time.

‘Will you be having meals at the B&B?’ Thea asked, her practical streak diverting her from pleasure that Ben and Toby would be staying, and sorrow that it would only be for a few days. ‘Or will you have supper here, with us?’

‘They don’t do an evening meal,’ Molly replied. ‘But I thought I’d take us all out to the pub tonight, to save you cooking, Thea.’ It was just possible that Molly had looked in the fridge and seen the packet of mince that Thea thought she’d make spaghetti sauce with. She wasn’t into student food.

Thea accepted this invitation gratefully. She had managed to get away from her lodgers, or at least most of them, but the huge collection of permanently dirty mugs, plates and glasses seemed to have followed her.

‘Well, then,’ Rory said, still in party mood. ‘Who’s coming out in the boat, then?’

‘I will,’ said Thea. She wanted to talk to him and the cottage was too small for conversation.

Molly and Petal shuddered in unison. Toby looked at his father, who muttered something about ‘life jackets’. ‘We’ll hang on here and look after the pups, and perhaps arrange to borrow some.’

Toby sighed resignedly.

‘Suit yourselves. I’ll show Thea the seals.’

Rory was adept in the water and the little vessel was soon speeding away towards the islands, its outboard motor buzzing along bravely. Thea would have liked a life jacket herself, but she knew that Rory would think the idea feeble in the extreme.

‘There are always seals on this island.’ Rory pointed ahead to a lump of land which seemed completely bare apart from a few rocks. ‘See? Those dark shapes?’

Gradually, as they drew nearer Thea watched, fascinated, as one by one the shapes slid into the sea and came swimming towards them, as if warning them off. They all had distinctive markings, and their huge liquid eyes were strangely glamorous in their round faces and shapeless bodies. Only the old grandfather seal, scarred and leathery, didn’t bother to move from his patch of sunshine. People in boats weren’t much threat to him, especially if they weren’t fishermen.

After they had watched until all the seals had got bored and disappeared, Thea said, ‘Can we turn off the engine for a while? I want to talk to you. The house is so full of people that we might not get another opportunity.’

He switched off the engine. ‘Speak. And tell me why you stole my pillow but didn’t share my bed. The bath, indeed. You’re not a student, Thea.’

‘I know and that’s not what I want to talk about. This is serious, Rory. It’s about your work.’

‘Oh?’ Rory seemed on the defensive, as if she were about to tell him off.

‘It’s fabulous, you know that, and I expect Ben’s said the same. I suppose he’s also told you that you might have to wait a couple of years at least for a London show.’

‘Yeah. Which is why I’m going to send slides to the States. Try and track down the guy who showed my work before. I won’t have to wait for so long and the British art scene won’t get another chance to thumb its nose at me.’

‘It was years ago and even you admitted you behaved appallingly. There’s no reason to refuse to show here now. Not when you’re so good. They’ll all realise they were wrong.’

Rory pulled out the oars from where they lay under the gunnels. ‘Fish about under your seat, you should find the rowlocks.’

Thea fished, fearing she’d lost his attention. After a bit she came across a pair of metal things. ‘Are these them?’

‘That’s it, can’t row without them.’

‘You’re not going to row all the way back?’ She
watched him fit the rowlocks into the holes on the side of the boat and begin to row.

‘We’ll row until you’ve got whatever it is you want to say off your chest.’ He looked at her chest and she felt suddenly self-conscious, although there wasn’t much he could see of it through Molly’s borrowed puffa jacket.

‘It’s difficult to know where to start, but what I want is for you to wait for me to open an art gallery, in the provinces – I couldn’t possibly afford London rates – and let me show your work. All of it, together, in one place. And possibly your drawings and sketches too.’

‘It sounds a grand idea, but how long will it take you to set up an art gallery? One year? Two? I might as well wait for something to turn up in Cork Street.’

‘Do you think a posh Cork Street gallery would be willing to show
all
your work? They wouldn’t have the space. I can make sure I get premises that have big enough walls.’

‘Sure, but when? Now I’ve exposed my work to you lot, I want the world to see it.’

Thea realised he was lumping her in with Ben and Molly, Petal and Toby, when before it had been her and Rory. A tiny part of her was sad, a delicious
affair
with a gorgeous Irish artist was such a lovely idea in theory. ‘The world
will
see it. With Ben’s contacts –’ Thea wasn’t exactly sure what these were, but that didn’t bother her. ‘We’ll get the art world to come to … to … wherever my gallery ends up being, to see
your
work. Mohammed coming to the mountain. Or is it the other way round?’

Rory grinned. It was a devastating grin, white teeth in a tanned face, with enough wickedness to turn any
girl’s heart. ‘All right, m’darlin’. You’ve sold the idea, now give me a time-frame.’

Thea watched him moving easily backwards and forwards as he pulled the boat through the water. ‘How long can I have?’

‘Three months, or I go to America. I already have a contact over there.’ He shook his head as if trying to get water out of his ears. ‘I must be mad! There I have a very lucrative bird in the hand and I’m turning it away for some hair-brained chicken portion in a bush.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘It must be love.’

Thea swallowed. She knew perfectly well that Rory didn’t love her, but he did want her and he might, not entirely unreasonably, expect a little something in return for his forbearance. ‘Three months isn’t very long to get an entirely new project going from scratch.’

‘Tell you what, why don’t you come to my American show instead and I’ll tell everyone you discovered me.’

‘But I’m sure I’ll manage. We’ll need to get the drawings and sketches mounted and framed. Do you know someone who can do that?’

‘Do you know someone who can give us a bit of a loan to pay for it? I already owe him money.’

‘I’ll sort that out,’ said Thea, knowing she’d already got in far over her head. With luck she could ask Molly for the ‘bit of a loan’.

‘Good.’ Rory shipped the oars. ‘Now, Thea. Just a kiss to seal the deal.’

Thea allowed herself to be pulled into his arms. They were strong and his mouth was cold and firm. Very pleasant, really.

‘So you’re going to stay here, on your own, with Rory?’
Molly was drying up glasses, covering them in bits of lint when they would have been better left to drain. Thea, who wanted to talk to her, didn’t stop her doing it.

Molly was suspicious, although since Thea had told everyone of her plans to open an art gallery she had become an enthusiastic supporter. ‘But won’t that waste a lot of time?’

I’d like to stay while the puppies are so little and while I organise getting his drawings framed. It’s bound to be more expensive in England and besides, I can’t trust Rory to do it. He’ll just forget and we must have them to show, or no one will be able to afford to buy anything. There’s nothing much to lure me back home just at the moment. Just a dirty house. I’m sure they’ve found someone to replace me at work.’

Thea didn’t add that she had to keep Rory focused and away from the notion of sending her slides to his contact in America. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to do it.

‘Three months really isn’t enough,’ said Molly, who’d argued at length and unsuccessfully for six. ‘It takes longer than that to get a bathroom decorated.’

‘I know, which is why I want you to go to estate agents and find out about suitable properties to rent. You can send details here – perhaps’ – this was taking a bit of a risk: give Molly too much responsibility and she’d take over the whole show – ‘perhaps check some of them out for me. Please, Molly? I know it’s a bit of a cheek to ask you but I don’t know anyone else I could trust.’ Who lived locally and who had time, she added silently.

‘Oh, very well.’ Molly hid her pleasure by folding up
her tea towel. ‘Now, what’s Petal doing? We’re going to go for a walk.’

Thea raised her brows in surprise. Petal didn’t ‘do’ walking unless she was in a covered shopping mall. When Molly had gone she unfolded the tea towel, so it could dry.

Thea watched the party leave with regret. She hadn’t asked them to come, but now she didn’t want them to go. It was partly because she didn’t want to be left with Rory, but mostly it was frustration. Now she’d decided to open an art gallery, she was anxious to leave her Irish idyll and do it, especially as she had so little time.

Rory stood behind her as they waved the car away. ‘Well, Thea?’ He turned her round and put his hands on her shoulders.

It was crunch time. ‘Rory, you are one of the most attractive men I have ever met,’ she began. ‘And I must be completely mad not to make love to you right now, in front of the puppies.’

‘I sense a “but” coming on.’

‘I
am
completely mad. I don’t want to make love to you, or for you to make love to me.’

He took it well. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t seem particularly surprised. ‘You mean you came to Ireland, to my house, with no intention of giving me what we both wanted? We did both want it, didn’t we?’

Thea considered for a long time before she answered. It was important to tell him the truth, but not to give him any false impressions. ‘When I came to Ireland I thought I wanted a break from my humdrum life. I was terribly flattered by your interest – my ego
will remain inflated for years, just on the memory. But when I saw your work, your paintings, I realised there was something more important than just wonderful sex.’

‘Believe me, nothing is more important than wonderful sex.’

‘Yes there is. There’s wonderful art. It lasts much longer, although, admittedly, it’s much more expensive. What I needed, and what I’ve now found thanks to you, is a mission, a project. I want to make you famous. I want your work to hang in all the important museums. I want the world to see you, through me.’

‘You don’t need to do that, Thea. There’s a fella in America who’ll do all that for me, I’m sure. If I can just track him down.’

‘No, you’re not with me.
I
want to do it. Because I want England, the country that spurned you …’ Spurned was probably putting it a bit strongly, but the Irish liked poetry. ‘I want them to salute you as the talent you are. Surely you want that too? They slated your work, just because you got drunk. You must want them to acknowledge you for the major talent you are.’

He stood looking down at her, chewing at the inside of his cheeks, putting his head first on one side and then the other. ‘Well, I suppose I do.’ He sighed. ‘Thea, now you’ve made your pretty speech, what about making me some lunch?’

A few minutes later, while Thea was in the kitchen chopping up vegetables for soup, she uttered a silent prayer of thanks to the sea, the islands and the mountains beyond, for having managed to pull it off. Many women, women she would respect and like,
would have happily enjoyed Rory with simple animal pleasure, without feeling guilty, or used, or anything except happy. But she couldn’t. Was it because she thought it would muddy the waters between them and it was his art she was really interested in? It seemed a sensible solution, but it didn’t quite ring true.
You’re a funny woman, Thea
, she told herself.

BOOK: Artistic Licence
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