Artistic Licence (26 page)

Two days later Thea received a telephone call. It was Ben, as brisk and as ‘nothing whatever happened between us’ as possible: ‘How’s your ankle?’

‘Fine. I managed to drive myself home the other day and it’s been getting better ever since.’

‘Good. Now the reason I rang is I’ve got a couple of days winding up business with clients and as it happens I have to go to, or near, quite a lot of places which have art colleges. You’d better come and see the graduate shows that are on. Some places have their shows quite early.’

Oh, to be a man and able to compartmentalise one’s life so simply! What had nearly happened in the gallery was obviously filed under ‘momentary aberrations’. That went in the top left-hand pigeonhole, next to ‘nanny’ and ‘gas bills’. Looking at graduate shows with Thea probably qualified as ‘charity work’, which was way down on the bottom row in the corner. Quite separate.

Thea put on her new assertive voice. She hadn’t perfected it yet, but she hoped it would work all right down the phone. ‘I really haven’t got time to go gadding about the country looking at art. I’ve still got to do something about the floor in the basement –’

He made a sound which could have been a chuckle.
‘You haven’t got time not to come. You won’t have another chance to see so much work all at one go. You need to be thinking about your next show.’

‘Oh. OK. I suppose you’re right. But it doesn’t involve any overnight stays, does it? I’ve got no one to look after Lara and the pups.’

‘Will Molly come in and see to them during the day?’

‘I expect so.’
She would if you asked her, Ben
, she said silently, hoping he could hear. ‘She’s not really a dog person, though. And the puppies make an awful mess.’

‘I’ll have a word. If I explain how important it is for the gallery she won’t mind.’

Yes! He might be an insensitive brute in some ways, but in others he was perfect.

Although, when Molly rang her later to confirm details, Thea wondered what on earth Ben had said. ‘There’s nothing funny going on between you and Ben, is there?’

Thea went hot and cold, and ended up guarded. ‘What do you mean, “something funny"?’

‘Nothing specific, it’s just when he mentioned you he sounded a bit – well, brisk.’

‘He always is, isn’t he?’ Brisk was OK. Molly couldn’t read anything into brisk.

‘Well, I don’t know. But honestly, Thea, you mustn’t do anything to annoy him. We really need his contacts and his advice.’

‘I’m sure I’d never do anything –’

‘Not on purpose, perhaps. But he’s a very organised, controlled sort of person and you’re –’

‘I’m not?’ Thea helped her out.

‘No, you’re warm and spontaneous and –’

‘Beautiful?’ She helped out again.

Molly ignored this. ‘But you’re not Ben’s –’

‘Type?’ This diffidence was unusual for Molly. Normally Thea couldn’t get a word in edgewise and here she was, having to finish all Molly’s sentences for her.

‘Mm.’

‘I see. I was wondering why you threw every unattached man you knew at my head and didn’t produce your home-grown cousin.’

‘Thea! I never did anything –’

‘It’s all right. I’m only joking.’

‘And OK, I did try to find you a nice man, but to be honest, when you first came down here Ben was still in the last stages of a very tricky divorce …’

‘And I’m not his type?’

‘Not really. When his wife was there their house made mine feel I had to rush out and get in an interior designer.’

Thea laughed, her good humour restored. Molly did have the same feelings as everyone else, she just reacted to them differently. Most people would feel they had to rush out and buy a pot of emulsion, or make some new cushions.

‘And after the first girlfriend he had tried to mother Toby, which really annoyed Ben, he’s never gone out with anyone who’s remotely maternal. Or over a size eight,’ she added.

Well, that’s me put in my place, size fourteen if I’m a day and desperately maternal, even if I haven’t got any children of my own.
Aloud she said, ‘Well, enough idle chatter. Do you mind coming in to see to Lara and the pups on the days I’m away all day?’

‘No, that’s fine. My cleaning lady’s going to do it. She loves dogs and is very obliging, and she can do extra hours for me.’

Ben picked her up at ten o’clock two days later. It was pouring with rain. ‘I’ve got a list of what degree shows are on. There’s one in Winchester you ought to visit. I’ve got a couple of clients to see, so I’ll drop you off at the art school and you can have a look around.’

Thea’s resolution to be nothing but businesslike failed before they’d even said hello. ‘But Ben, I don’t know anything about art. You were going to help me choose. You said!’

‘I seem to have said a lot of things I don’t mean lately.’

Thea didn’t have time to work this one out. ‘You definitely said you’d help me choose work. You can’t let me down. This is the gallery at stake here.’

Ben concentrated on getting his car across three lanes of traffic. ‘I don’t want to let you down, but when it comes down to it, it has to be your taste.’

Thea realised, not for the first time, what an enormous undertaking she had made. ‘But I might choose all the wrong people; we might never sell a thing. Oh, God! Why did I have this stupid art gallery idea in the first place?’

‘Something to do with Rory?’ He glanced across at her, somehow implying that Rory had charmed her into it. ‘But now you have had the idea you’ve got to persevere with it a bit longer, if only to keep Molly happy.’

How like a man to treat a momentary exclamation as a serious statement. He’d been just as enthusiastic
about Rory’s work as she had been. Now he was implying there was something personal in it.

I’m
not
doing it just for Rory and it’s
not
just a whim. I really want this gallery to work and
not
only to keep Molly happy, either.’ Her resentment at his implication that her gallery was some sort of distraction for idle women bubbled up. ‘But if ever you find giving us advice and support too much trouble, just say. We can manage perfectly well without you.’

Ben frowned through the windscreen. ‘I never meant to imply I objected to helping you. I just want you able to do this on your own, without being dependent on anybody.’

Thea sighed. ‘Well, that’s what I want too. And you’re quite right. I’ve got to make my own mistakes and learn from them.’ Even if Molly does go broke in the process.

‘Tell you what, when you’ve chosen all the artists you’re interested in – and you won’t be able to get hold of some of them, and others will balk at paying a fee, however small – I’ll have a look at the postcards, or the slides, or whatever you’ve got with you.’

‘I’m going to take pictures of anything I like, to make sure I don’t only choose one type of work.’

He glanced across at her and smiled the rare, wonderful smile, which transformed his whole persona. ‘You’re not a complete idiot, are you?’

Thea decided not to comment. She’d only say something she’d regret.

Ben left her in a strange street in a strange town and told her the art school was on the corner to the left. He’d offered to park the car and personally escort her, but she’d refused to let him. She regretted this
independence as she fought her way through the traffic. Eventually, she reached it and a girl on the desk gave her a map, showing her how to get to the exhibition.

It took her a while to negotiate the staircases and corridors, but at last she found herself in the middle of the building: a huge, galleried space, full of works of art.

There were not many people about, only a couple of students minding the shop, who just glanced at Thea and went back to their discussion about whether the latest Oscar-winning film was really all that great.

It was nice to be able to wander round on her own, though at first she thought she didn’t like anything. She worried that she’d lost her pleasure in art because now she had to like it. Then, suddenly, she turned a corner and found an installation which made her laugh out loud.

It was a kitchen, cooker, fridge and microwave, only everything was made from tooth-rot-pink plastic, and covered with sequins and diamanté. Lace curtains served as the microwave’s door, the cooker’s hotplates were made from doilies, but on inspection it turned out that they were ceramic. The longer she looked, the more surprises she found – the black velvet washing-up gloves with fingers covered with rings, a lurex washing-up brush, plastic goldfish floating in the washing-up bottle, which was filled with glycerine soap, and cooker knobs made from icing. She was chuckling to herself, searching for a comments book, or some indication about how she could get hold of the artist, when a tall, elegant, extremely pretty girl appeared.

‘Is this your work?’ asked Thea. ‘I absolutely love it! I want to show it in my gallery.’

The tall, elegant, pretty girl threw herself into Thea’s arms.

Cheered by this, Thea went round the rest of the show having decided that unless the work made her respond as strongly as the Barbie Kitchen had she wouldn’t consider it. She had to feel passionate about everything in her gallery. Even if she didn’t particularly like it, she had to admire it and feel it really was good.

She slept as Ben drove her home. She had a bag full of artists’ postcards, business cards and addresses, and three rolls of used film. She had picked far more than she would need from just one art school, but she wanted to have plenty to choose from the first time.

She slept because she was very tired, and because it would save her having to talk to Ben about what she’d seen and chosen. At the beginning of the day she’d wanted him to be with her and take responsibility. Now she didn’t want him disparaging her selection. When she’d got all the work in, she might show him. Or she might not.

He commented on her reticence two days later, when he took her north to Leeds. ‘At first you wanted me come in with you to hold your hand. Now you won’t even tell me about the work.’

‘Once I’d realised you were right about me needing to decide on my own, I didn’t want anyone else’s opinion clouding my judgement.’ She bit her lip and turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile. That’ll teach him!

Their last trip was to Cornwall. Ben had stayed the
night with Molly and collected Thea very early in the morning. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to be ready,’ he said, when Thea appeared, brushed, made-up and eager to go. ‘I thought no woman could get dressed in under two hours.’

Thea gave him a disparaging look. ‘You don’t know many real women, do you, Ben? We were in Ireland together; surely you noticed that my time spent in the bathroom was minimal.’

‘Sorry – I thought that was because you were sharing it with Molly and Petal, but I apologise for my assumption.’ He glanced at her. ‘Two hours or ten minutes, the effect is … charming.’

Well, it was a compliment of sorts, but ‘charming’! Couldn’t he have said ‘ravishing’ or ‘gorgeous’ – or something sexier? Later she decided he’d only said it out of politeness and that actually, even ‘charming’ was beyond her.

It was a shame that although Ben kept himself so aloof and dignified, which maddened and frustrated her, he didn’t get one jot less attractive. In fact, he got better looking every time she let herself peep.

By the end of Thea’s three forays into the world of art she had a huge folder full of contacts, names and addresses, their slides, her own slides, catalogues and postcards. The minute she had Rory’s show up and running she would select them, or possibly even before. Then she’d get Molly to tell them that while they would be exhibiting in a really lovely space, they would have to pay a small fee for the privilege.

She was very grateful to Ben for taking her round the country. ‘It would have been really difficult for me
to get to all those places on my own, when I’m so short of time, so please accept this bottle of wine as a small thank you.’ Aware that she sounded as if she were addressing a public meeting, she added, ‘Derek chose it. So it should be OK.’

Ben took hold of the bottle as if it might explode. He looked at it without seeing it. He didn’t speak for such a long time that Thea wondered if she should just get out of the car and go in. Eventually he said ‘thank you’, but the words seemed weighted with a whole lot of other things he wanted to say but couldn’t.

A couple of days after their last trip together, Thea was determined to have an early night. Her house was now a student-free zone, until one of them decided he missed his girlfriend too much, or that home life was too confining, and needed to come back for a bit.

She had just put an egg on to boil – a vain attempt at something resembling ‘a proper meal’ – when the phone rang. She looked at the timer and at the phone, and silently cursed. It was probably not even for her. She let it ring a few more times and caved in. Rather than hear her own voice on the answering machine she picked it up. She would get whoever it was to ring back. It might well be Rory. Apart from the one garbled phone call from the pub, she hadn’t heard a thing from him. Fine father of puppies he was! Not even a single tin of dog food had he sent for them. Leaving her in sole charge was bad enough; she wasn’t going to have to eat an over-boiled egg as well.