Love (20 page)

Her grandmother
was obviously dying to know more of what had happened between Karen and Adam.

“Th
e portrait has an intensity about it that I haven’t seen in of your work before, Karen.”

She realised exactly what her grandmother was after. But
she was shocked by the directness of her grandmother’s next question.

“
Are you in love with him? From the portrait I would say that you either love him or hate him with a passion. I’d go for love.”

Karen
didn’t know where to put herself. She laughed out loud at the sheer audacity of her grandmother and then had astonished herself with her reply.

“
Yes. You’re right about the intensity of the emotion. There were times when I was painting it that I did hate him, I hated him for leaving me, I hated him for making me so damn miserable. To answer your question, yes, I’m in love with him.”

Her grandmother nodded with satisfaction.
“Yes, I thought as much. When he phoned me to tell me he was taking care of you when you had tonsillitis, I guessed that it would not be long before you realised what a good man the rather tiresome serious little boy had grown into. I am very fond of Adam. I’ve known him off and on most of his life and there’s no one I would rather see you with.”

Realising that her grandmother, of all people, would understand her conflict about her painting and marriage, Karen confessed her worries about mixing the two. Her grandmother had said that she felt, of a
ll men, Adam, who was himself a kind of artist, would understand and be supportive of her career.

“
In fact, Adam is not a man looking for a housekeeper or a mother figure. He can take perfectly good care of himself and has lived alone. What he wants in a wife is a companion and a lover. He is not going to curtail your independence because he has no need to be jealous of it.”

Karen hadn
’t wanted to go into everything that Morgan had said. It would have seemed like a betrayal of Adam. She owed it to him, at the very least, for looking after her when she was sick. Besides, her grandmother was so fond of him, she couldn’t bear to spoil their relationship.

The seeds of doubt planted by Morgan had not withered or died but grew as time went on and all she heard from Adam was a weekly postcard. She could not understand why he
did not phone. Surely if he really loved her, not that he had ever said so in those exact words, in fact he had never used the word love, he would have found her phone number and would have found the time in his busy schedule to speak to her. He had mentioned marriage and liking and discussed their sleeping arrangements but he had never once said "I love you".

Karen settled back into her London routine with long days painting at her own studio and evenings spent often with old friends eating in their favourite Italian restaurant in Soho or
seeing a film or a few drinks at the pub. She didn’t talk to them about Adam. She only said that Cornwall had been interesting and, in some ways, inspirational. She saw quite a lot of Amanda. Since her visit to Cornwall she and Karen had become much closer than in recent years

On the Saturday before her show, Amanda and Karen went out looking for a smart little black dress for Karen to wear to the opening of her show. They were in Harvey Nichols having coffee when a familiar figure came into view.

“Do
n’t look now, It’s the awful Morgan. The one I told you about,” Karen said pretending to find her coffee cup fascinating.

But there had been no escape and Morgan had come up to their table and helped herself to the spare chair.

“Karen! Fancy meeting you here.” Karen felt that Morgan emphasised the ‘you’ rather unnecessarily. Did she expect her to do all her shopping at a jumble sale?

Karen reluctantly introduc
ed Morgan to Amanda. Morganthen launched into a description of the wonderful time Adam was having in the States.

“
He’s got all those American women just eating out of his hand. Of course, we’re always on the phone to each other, but I think all this adulation is going to his head. The cute college students hanging on his every word. It’s enough to tempt a saint.” Morgan gave Karen a meaningful look. She continued in this vein while Amanda and Karen exchanged veiled glances which meant "let’s get away from her".

It had taken them another cup of coffee before they could finally extricate themselves. Morgan had obviously
wanted to impress on Karen how completely unimportant she, Karen, was in Adam’s life. Even Amanda had noticed the barely concealed spite.

The minute they were out of earshot she had said,
“I suppose that was all for your benefit. She’s not very subtle, is she? What a spiteful bitch. You must have really pissed her off.”

Karen
had told Amanda of her feelings for Adam but she hadn’t told her about Morgan’s unpleasant revelations about Adam’s former life and about Morgan’s purported relationship with him. Karen could see that Amanda shared her doubts about Adam although she liked him and didn’t want to believe that he and Morgan were together. Amanda, with her usual logic, pointed out that a possible reason for Morgan’s animosity was that she saw Karen as a threat to her control of Adam.

They spent the morning failing to find the right dress in Knightsbridge and after their meeting with Morgan they decided to try their luck in Oxford Street. They traipsed in and out of every shop between Tottenham Court Road and Marble Arch. Karen hadn’t seen a single dress that she liked though Amanda kept assuring her that they looked fabulous. Karen suspected it was more that Amanda’s feet were getting tired than that the dresses actually suited her.

“
What exactly are you looking for?” Amanda had asked in exasperation as they trooped out of yet another shop.

Karen replied that she couldn
’t really describe what she had in mind but that she would know it when she saw it. It was then that Amanda remembered a friend at work telling her about a new shop in Covent Garden selling French designer clothes at wholesale prices. Apparently, they were often ‘seconds" or returns but Amanda had been impressed with her friend’s purchases.

They
were so tired, and their feet so sore that Karen didn’t protest when Amanda hailed a black cab for them. The shop looked fairly unprepossessing from the outside and inside not much better, being piled high with clothes and dress rails. It had taken them some time to sort through the rails as the clothes were not arranged in any order. Then Karen saw it! Black, raw silk, Chinese collar, slit up the side, a French version of a cheongsam. She tried it on with some trepidation. It just had to fit... Even Amanda was bowled over. It hugged her every curve and cut to the knee, revealed her long slender calves and slim ankles.

“M
ademoiselle looks stupendous. Tres chic!” the assistant enthused. Karen bought the dress even though it was rather more than she wanted to spend. Amanda, eager to get home, insisted on giving her the difference.

This was the first day Karen found herself with so little to do. The opening was not until six o’clock. The previous evening had been taken up with the press preview. There had been critics from the major newspapers and a few art magazines. Karen had drifted about trying to listen for comments or criticisms but had decided that it was all too nerve-wracking and gone home.

Her mother and father would be driving up for the show as would her brother James. Her grandmother and Humphrey were staying with he
r parents for a few days, so Gran, too, would be coming. Amanda and her fiancé, Julian, promised to collect Karen in Julian’s car and drive her to the gallery.

Karen heard the mail come through the front door. Surely, if Adam planned to be there tonight there would be some word from him. If he were intending to come, he must already be in London. And if so, why had he not been in touch? She wanted to believe that he would come for her as he had promised
, but over the weeks hope had faded. The final straw had been Morgan in Harvey Nicholls, crowing about Adam’s US success. Sure, she there was a weekly postcard, funny, friendly, and charting his progress across the United States. But they were pretty impersonal, not the sort of thing one expected from a fiancé.

On the door mat were j
ust a few bills and a letter suggesting she install a new conservatory now and pay later. Nothing from Adam. The awful thing was her feelings for Adam hadn’t faded with the passing of time. She had half expected that "out of sight, out of mind" would take care of her feelings but she still thought of him constantly and longed for his presence.

If the absolute unthinkable happened and Adam came, what would she do about going to dinner with her family and friends after the show? Her friends would not mind if she cried off but Gran had
come all the way from Cornwall and her parents were certainly planning on a family get together. Her father would not be pleased if the plan was altered especially since Karen was the ‘guest of honour’. On the other hand, if, and what a big if this was, if Adam showed up, did she really want to share him?

Karen spent much of the day on the phone to her friends, who wanted to know how the press reception had gone. She had a long soothing bath with some of the
new aromatherapy oils she had treated herself to on the shopping trip with Amanda. She gave herself a much-needed manicure, oil paints and turpentine were remarkably hard on the hands. She washed and blow dried her hair; brushing it till it hung in a glossy curtain of dark silk. Finally, she slipped on the dress, some sheer tights and a pair of black high heels.

She contemplated her appearance in her bedroom mirror. She looked almost oriental with her dark hair and high cheek bones. She outlined her sea-blue eyes with black eyeliner and put lots of mascara on her already thick lashes. A
browny-pink lipstick highlighted the soft curve of her full lips. She ran her tongue across her upper lip. At moments like this she thought of Adam.

The doorbell rang. It was Amanda and Julian arriving in good time to find parking near the gallery.

“You look gorgeous, Karen!” said Amanda. “He’d better be there.”

Julian gave a wolf whistle of appreciation.
“We’d better get going, the traffic’s terrible this evening.”

Karen grabbed her Chinese-style quilted jacket. It complimented the dress perfectly. Despite the slow moving traffic and the packed parking lots, they managed to arrive at the gallery in time to take off their coats and have a glass of wine before people started arriving at six. The rest of Karen
’s family arrived soon after and Karen escorted them around her paintings.

Her family was clearly impressed with her new work, even her normally reticent father muttered a gruff "well-done". Her grandmother was, by contrast, ecstatic.

“
You have made great strides, Karen,” she said when she managed to catch Karen alone. “Your work has a new depth. I believe it’s because you have discovered a new depth of feeling within yourself. This new intensity is communicating itself through your painting. The painting of Adam is superb. He’ll be here to claim it, no doubt, later this evening.”

“
Have you heard from him?” Karen couldn’t stop herself from asking although she wanted to appear nonchalant.

“
Oh yes,” said her grandmother but then hurried off without saying anything else. As Karen had to stay near her work in case anybody wanted to discuss it she could not question her grandmother any further.

The gallery was soon crowded and resembled nothing more than a large cocktail party. Karen had never been very fond of these sorts of occasions but she had strict orders from Vincent Morrow, the director of the prestigious gallery, not to run off again. One of his glamorous female assistants stopped by to whisper to Karen that they had a couple of sales already.

Karen took a glass of white wine from the tray as yet another waiter bearing drinks and canapés passed by. She was too tense and excited to eat a thing but she could see her family standing around enjoying the food and wine. She had no watch so didn’t know what the time was.

Amanda came by.
“Any sign of him yet?” she asked.

“
No. Do you know what the time is?” Karen asked her.

“
It’s almost seven,” said Amanda glancing at her watch. “Only another hour. See you later. I must rescue Julian from a very, very boring couple.”

Karen watched as Vincent Morrow
’s assistant placed a red sold sticker on the label saying "Portrait of Adam". She hadn’t really wanted to sell the painting but she needed the money. She had accumulated a lot of bills for materials and studio rent in the process of preparing for tonight and had no choice but to offer for sale all of her paintings in the show. She looked ruefully at the painting. Tears of sadness welled up. He wasn’t going to come and now she didn’t have the portrait either.

She turned round as a familiar voice said,
“Shall we have it in your bedroom or mine?” He was there. Just as he had promised and then she was in his arms and then his lips were on hers and nothing else mattered.

Amanda
’s voice cut in, “Hey, you two! Steady on. This is an art gallery. You can get arrested for doing that sort of thing in public you know.”