Artistic Licence (27 page)

It was Toby. Although he announced his name it took her a moment to work out who this rather high and breathy voice belonged to. When she did, she
panicked. ‘Toby! Are you all right? Is anything wrong?’

‘No, no, I’m fine.’ There was a short pause. ‘Dad’s out. I’ve got a babysitter. We’ve been watching videos.’ Another pause. ‘I just wanted a chat.’

‘It’s a bit late, isn’t it?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Oh, well, I suppose it’s Friday. But can I ring you back? I’m just boiling an egg and I hate them too hard?’

Thea mashed up the egg on to the toast and cut it into bits so she could eat it with one hand. She felt dreadfully clandestine dialling Ben’s number, because she was quite sure Ben would be furious if he knew Toby had rung her. After what Molly had told her about him hating maternal women, this would make him hit the roof. It was probably because she and Toby had had such a good time together that Ben was so aloof.

But on the other hand she and Toby had a relationship which was quite separate and a lot more satisfactory than hers with Ben.

Toby was quite a long time coming to the phone. Thea was beginning to think the babysitter had come to her senses and sent him to bed. The answering machine cut in and Thea was about to leave a quick message and ring off when Toby picked up. ‘Oh, hi,’ he said.

‘It’s me, Thea. What can I do for you, Toby?’

‘Nothing really, I just wanted a chat.’

‘What about?’

‘Oh – er nothing much.’

‘Shouldn’t you be in bed? I know I should be.’

‘I always find it really hard to get to sleep when
Dad’s out. He’s with a woman.’

It sounded awful, as if the woman were a prostitute or something. ‘You shouldn’t tell me things like that; he might not want me to know.’
And I don’t want to know about the size ten models he’s escorting round London, either
. Particularly when he’d told
her
that he didn’t have either relationships or cheap affairs with women.

‘Oh, but I must. We’ve just been watching this film where a little boy rings up a radio station, trying to find a wife for his dad.’

‘I know the one.’ Thea’s heart sank. If Ben found out about this that babysitter would never work again.

‘Donna said I should ring you.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t. I mean, of course you can ring me for a chat, but you mustn’t start matchmaking.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Trying to get people together with other people. Your Aunt Molly does it with me and it drives me mad. People want to find their own people. You probably wouldn’t like it if someone said, “Go and play with Tommy, he’s a really nice little boy and you’ve got lots in common.”’

‘Teachers do that all the time.’

‘Oh. Well, isn’t it irritating?’

‘Yes, but this is important. I mean Dad goes out with these women that he chooses and they’re
crap
!’

‘Toby!’ It was probably the babysitter again. They had a lot to answer for… she seemed to remember one in the film Toby had just watched.

‘He doesn’t choose anyone I like.’

‘Why should he? He’s a free agent.’

‘What?’

‘I mean, he can go out with who he likes. You don’t
have to like them too.’

‘But I do if they’re going to be my stepmother.’

‘Well, of course, that would be different –’

‘And the women he chooses would be crap as mothers.’

Thea, not at all certain of the parentally approved way to proceed, cleared her throat. ‘You have a mother, Toby, and she’s special to you. No one your dad went out with, or married or anything, would ever be as good as her.’ Thea was proud of herself. She sounded adult and sensible, like an agony aunt.

‘But my mother’s no good as a mother. I mean,’ he went on quickly, before Thea could protest again, ‘she doesn’t make cakes.’

Thea took a bite of toast and crunched it to give herself time to plan her reply. ‘There’s a whole lot more to being a mother than making cakes. Even I know that.’

‘But we have cake sales at school. I want to bring a cake to one.’

‘There’s nothing to stop you making your own cake, Toby,’ she said, wondering how Ben would feel about it. ‘I could write down a recipe for you. If Ben’s not keen on clearing up the mess, you could do it when you’ve next got a babysitter, if she liked cooking too.’
It would be a lot more sensible than watching sentimental films and picking up unsuitable language
, she added silently.

‘It’s not just the cakes. It’s the being there when I come home from school. My friend’s mum is always there at home time. It’s cool!’

‘It probably is, but lots and lots of mothers work. They have to –’

‘I want you to be my mother … stepmother.’

Thea couldn’t decide whether to be angry, sympathetic, or sad. She aimed for something in between all three. ‘Toby!’

‘But I would! You’re
cool
. I want to have a mum who
cooks
.’

It would have been far more flattering if Toby had said he wanted a mum who was a raving sex symbol but, she supposed, even more complicated. ‘But I don’t cook all the time,’ she explained. ‘Lots of times I just do boiled eggs.’ She took another bite of hers. ‘And lots of people would like to have a mother who was beautiful and had a glamorous job, who took you to nice places, stuff like that.’ As she knew very little about Toby’s mother it was hard for her to stress her good points, but she did her best.

‘But I want a motherly mother as well.’

Exasperation was creeping in. ‘That’s greedy. And lovey, even if you had me as a stepmother, it wouldn’t all be cooking pizzas and chocolate cake. It would mostly be all “do your homework” and “have you brushed your teeth?". I may not know much about parenting, but I do watch
Neighbours
.’ Trying to divert him a little, she added. ‘What does it mean when they say “you’re grounded"?’

‘It means you can’t go out.’

‘Well, there you go. That’s what sort of a stepmother I’d be, learning how to do it from Australian soap operas.’

‘Why are they called “soap operas"?’

‘It’s a long story. Years and years ago, in America…’

But Toby had lost interest. Thea heard a muffled conversation going on in the background. The
babysitter doing her duty at last and putting him to bed. ‘Donna says,’ said Toby loudly, ‘the important thing is, do you like my dad?’

Thea was tired. She’d done her best and, with half an ounce of luck, Toby wouldn’t read anything into it. She sighed. ‘Yes, Toby. I like your dad. He’s a very nice kind man who’s helped me a lot.’ Hoping this sounded suitably platonic, she tried to end the call, but heard more whispering.

‘Do you like him “like that"?’

‘I really don’t know what you mean, Toby. Now it’s late and I do think you should go to bed.’ Hoping she sounded a sufficiently cruel stepmother to make Toby feel glad she wasn’t his, she added, ‘Now, good night. Oh, and Toby –’

‘Yes?’ He sounded a little hurt and Thea felt dreadful.

‘Don’t tell Ben about this conversation. I really don’t think he’d like it.’

He didn’t like it. And it hadn’t helped that most of it had been recorded on the answering machine. He was furious when he rang Thea the following night. ‘What do you mean by encouraging Toby in this nonsense about a stepmother?’

‘Excuse me! I didn’t encourage him. I made it very clear that although we’d had a very nice evening together, it wouldn’t be like that all time.’

‘Did it occur to you that you shouldn’t have discussed it with him at all?’

‘Yes–no –’ Thea exhaled sharply. ‘What was I to do? Toby wanted a chat. I didn’t know what he wanted to chat about and when I did, I tried to stop him – or
explain.’ Aware that he’d heard her conversation more recently than she had and that she’d forgotten the detail of what she and Toby had discussed, she floundered to a halt.

‘Well, you shouldn’t have let him carry on.’

Ben was really angry. Thea was tempted to tell him about the babysitter and the video, but if he’d listened to all the tape he’d know about her and she didn’t want her to get into more trouble. On the other hand she was damned if she’d apologise – she hadn’t initiated the call. ‘I did my best.’

‘And does your “best” include telling my son to deceive me?’

‘I never –’

‘Oh yes, you did! It’s on the tape quite clearly. “Don’t tell Ben about this, he wouldn’t like it."’

‘Well, I was right there, wasn’t I?’

She slammed the handset down. She had to be in the gallery early the following morning as they were coming to put the phone in. Then she indulged in a glass of wine, a few tears and a packet of chocolate biscuits. It didn’t help at all.

While Thea had been waiting for the telephone man, she made the decision to rip up the carpet in the room downstairs, although originally she’d decided not to. By now the puppies’ presence had begun to be apparent, even when they weren’t there, and she didn’t feel the odour of puppy wee was quite what an up-and-coming young gallery needed.

She’d got half of it up and was wondering if she’d ever fit it into her car to take to the tip, when Petal called down the stairs, ‘Hi! Are you there? I’ve brought
Dave over to have a look at the space. He’s in the third year, so he’ll want to be in your next year’s graduate show.’

Oh, the confidence of youth! Thea wasn’t certain of anything happening next year, except perhaps Christmas. ‘How nice.’

‘And the phone man’s here. And I brought a letter for you from home. It’s from Rory.’

Thea dropped the length of carpet she was holding and went upstairs. She snatched the letter from Petal as she passed and greeted the telephone man.

Only when he was happily muttering about junction boxes and extra lines, and Petal had made tea for everyone (she would have made it just for Dave, but her sense of fair play kicked in) did Thea take out the letter and open it. A cheque fell out of it.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!’ she said loudly. ‘Oh, sorry, everyone. But this is
dreadful
. Fucking – sorry Petal – Rory!’

‘What? What’s happened?’ Petal was worried. Thea rarely swore and hearing her do it now was alarming.

‘I can’t believe it! I’ll read it to you! It says,

And the address is just for someone’s house, not a gallery, so I don’t know where he’s intending to show.’

‘What does asap mean?’

‘As soon as possible. He seems to have forgotten that he already owes me money for the framing and stuff! This is intolerable.’

‘You mean, you won’t have a show?’

‘Exactly. Because f—bloody Rory has decided to show in London first, in spite of promising me –’ Then she remembered the promise had been rather dragged out of him and she’d always known he might take his work away from her. ‘What I want to know,’ she went on more calmly, ‘is how he managed to get a gallery so interested when he didn’t have any slides.’

‘But he did have slides,’ said Petal, surprised. ‘I sent them to him.’

‘You
what
?’

‘He rang one night – can’t remember when – and said you’d said you’d put them in the post, but as he hadn’t had them, he thought you’d forgotten.’

‘Forgotten on purpose. I didn’t want him to have them!’

‘Oh. Well, I didn’t know that. I thought I was being helpful when I posted them to him. They were of his pictures, after all.’

‘They were my slides! Thank God I can get copies. But anyway, why didn’t you tell me you’d sent them?’

‘I forgot.’ Petal’s mouth began to quiver. ‘I didn’t know I’d done wrong. I’d thought I’d done you a favour. He said you’d promised.’

Thea dimly remembered some conversation wherein she’d said she’d send slides when they were back from the printers, but she’d never meant to do it. Apart from Lara, whom she didn’t think he cared about, they were her only bargaining chip. Now she’d
lost it. ‘It’s all right, Petal, it’s not your fault. I should have told you I didn’t want Rory to have the slides.’

‘But why didn’t you?’ asked Dave.

‘Because I want to show his work here first. If no one in London knows how great he is or, at least, only have his word for it, I’ve got a better chance of keeping him.’

‘So, is the show off, then?’ asked Petal. ‘Aren’t you going to have a gallery now?’

Thea took a breath so she wouldn’t take a swing at Petal. ‘Yes, I
am
going to have a gallery now. I have not gone through all this time and effort, and at Molly’s expense, setting it up, not to have one now. And what is more, Rory’s work is going to be on show on the appointed night.’

‘But if he wants to show in London –’ said Dave.

‘What he wants isn’t relevant.’

‘But how will you stop him?’

‘I’ve got his paintings. If he wants them, he’s got to come and get them!’

‘But he’s sent you the money to send them. You can’t just keep it!’

‘Yes I can.’ She glanced down at the cheque. ‘He owes me far more than this.’

‘So, what are you going to do?’ Petal’s expression became a little pained.

‘I’m going to go to London and sort that Rory out!’

Chapter Sixteen