The exhibition was already sold out. True to his word, Ben stayed by her side as she mingled, catching up with patrons of her own; buyers and artists alike. Later in the evening they managed to catch Emily momentarily between clients and slip her a glass of wine. After congratulatory hugs and kisses, Ben used the opportunity to disappear into the men’s room.
‘Is he being your shadow tonight?’ Emily asked, watching him leave.
‘Yes. Though honestly it’s nowhere near as scary as I thought it would be and I don’t really need him. Still, it’s nice to know someone’s got my back.' Charlotte considered her sister. ‘What about you? Do you need a shadow? Has Cassette managed to catch you?’
Emily grinned. ‘I have a shadow. This whole crowd has my back tonight. I don’t know how orchestrated it is, but there’s always a crowd of people between me and her, and people keep appearing to steer me across the room whenever she looks my way. Not to mention Craig’s been herding her all night, though judging by the scowl on his face he’s pretty over it. I, on the other hand, am having the night of my life!’
Charlotte hugged her and stole a glance at Craig across the room. ‘So you should,’ she told her sister. Craig was indeed scowling as he tugged insistently on the arm of a very drunk Cassette, trying to pull her off Gareth Moorehouse. Gareth caught Charlotte’s eye, peeled Cassette’s fingers off his arm and made a beeline for the Evans sisters.
‘Goodness,’ he sighed when he reached them. ‘Who invited the riff-raff?' He winked at Emily as he said it. She laughed appreciatively with the confidence that had been missing for the last couple of months. Charlotte wanted to hug Gareth, but that could have been the wine. Speaking of which, she needed more.
With perfect timing Ben reappeared and offered to fetch it. Emily volunteered to help him. Watching them go, Gareth took her hand and patted it. ‘I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news Charlotte, but there’s trouble there.’ He nodded his head towards Ben and Emily’s disappearing backs. ‘She’s going to steal him off you. She’s either going to fall in love with him or break his heart, but either way, your friendship is in trouble.’
Charlotte’s jaw dropped as Gareth released her hand. When she recovered, she turned to demand an explanation, only to find he'd drifted off, and Craig had replaced him at her side, hot and magnetic as usual. She closed her mouth and tried to gather her wits. What was Gareth talking about? What did Craig want now? If he was here, where was Cassette?
Not at the bar, she observed, picking out Ben over the top of the crowd and catching Emily looking slyly up at him as he asked for more wine.
Frowning and confused, she turned on Craig. His expression was grave, his eyes earnest. ‘I want you to know that I didn’t authorise those letters being sent,’ he said. ‘My electronic signature was used, but I had nothing to do with it. Charlotte, I…’ he paused. ‘Nah, forget it,’ he growled and disappeared again into the crowd.
Charlotte’s head was spinning. She needed some air. She looked from Ben at the bar to Craig’s retreating back. She needed some answers. She followed Craig and caught up to him, grabbing his arm.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to give me more than that.’
He stopped still and looked down at her hand on his arm. When he looked up, the scowl had softened. He almost looked relieved. He checked on Cassette, considered his next move and suggested they step outside on to the deck overlooking the river. A handful of smokers were crowded around the outdoor ashtray, but the balmy night kept most of the crowd in the air conditioning. Although not entirely private, it was quieter than inside, and they could keep an eye on Cassette through the glass while they talked.
He claimed Charlotte’s hand off his arm and led her outside. She checked her disappointment when he released it. The air outside was humid, and the distant hum of traffic filled their ears. Somewhere nearby there must have been a frangipani tree in flower. The fragrance caught on the breeze, mingling unpleasantly with the cigarette smoke. Huddled together on one side of the deck, the smokers ignored them.
‘What do you mean you didn’t know anything about the letters?’ Charlotte asked.
‘Just that. I didn’t ask for them to be written and I didn’t authorise them being sent.’
‘Who did then?
‘Margie wrote them.’
‘Why would she do that?’
‘Because she was told to.’
‘But not by you.’
Craig ran his hand through his hair. ‘By Keith.'
Looking at the little tufts of hair standing on end upon his head, Charlotte knew she should feel relieved. He didn’t send the letters, and until tonight he’d known nothing about them. Which meant he didn’t make love to her and then turn around and turf her out of her gallery. Which meant he wasn’t a prick after all. Maybe.
God damn it. She needed to get off this rollercoaster. She didn’t feel relieved. She felt nauseous.
‘Fuck,’ Craig suddenly declared. ‘Charlotte…I… Cassette…I’ve got to go’. He tore inside and left her standing there, alone with her mounting queasiness. She watched him through the glass as he sped through the crowd to catch Cassette and deftly turn her around, moments before she tapped Emily on the shoulder. Ben, who was still with Emily, noticed the movement behind them far too late. He watched on, stunned as Emily remained oblivious.
Rooted to the spot, Charlotte watched them. Craig manoeuvred Cassette across the room, holding her up as she wavered drunkenly in her glossy red stilettos. Once he’d found her a safe place, he looked back to Charlotte and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’
Still dazed, Charlotte ignored him and looked back to Ben and Emily. Was Emily falling for Ben? Observing them now, Charlotte saw what she’d never seen before: the doe-eyed way Ben looked at her sister when she was looking the other way. No, it was Ben, and it would appear he wasn’t just falling; he’d already fallen, for Emily.
How could she have never noticed that before?
With all of the women queuing up at Bean Drinkin’ batting their eyelids at him, he’d had ample opportunity to meet someone else to be doe-eyed over. But it appeared it was her sister who had claimed his heart, though, as far as Charlotte could tell, it was completely one-sided. When did it start? Had it always been there or did it just happen recently?
Charlotte’s heart was hammering in her chest, and she was struggling to breathe. Realising she was having a panic attack, she started to panic. She couldn’t move. Her vision blurred, and she couldn’t focus on anything. Her legs started to shake.
A warm arm slipped around her shoulders. ‘Come on, lovely. Come with me. I’ll take you somewhere safe.' Gareth’s voice was soothing and reassuring. She allowed herself to be led down the length of the deck. Just before a set of stairs that descended down to the riverside, they turned left and entered Gareth’s office through the back door. He sat her down on a comfortable burgundy couch and poured her a scotch.
Charlotte took a shaky sip and slowly felt herself calm down. ‘Thank you,’ she managed.
‘No worries, my love. You just get some more of that in to you and when you’re ready you can tell me all about it.’
‘Don’t you have a show to run?’
‘Charlotte,’ he admonished lightly. ‘You know they don’t need me. But you look like you could use a friend. I’d rather be where I’m needed.’
Charlotte considered him. She barely knew him. But maybe that was a good thing.
Everything came flooding out. The stress over the development proposal and the loss of the gallery, Emily’s disinterest and Andy’s drug addiction. That she was in love with Craig, the man who would tear everything down one week and tear her apart the next. That she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life, that she suspected she didn’t want the gallery any more but what else would she do? And finally, her realisation her best friend was in love with her sister and the truth behind Gareth’s warning.
Gareth listened until she ran out of words and then
helped her freshen up.
‘Why do you have a stash of make-up here?’ she asked as he pulled it out and helped her repair her façade.
‘Oh, you know these artists. They’re emotional types.’ He grinned at her and she smiled back.
‘Thank you.’
‘No trouble, Charlotte.' He slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Charlotte let herself crumple for a moment then steeled herself, panic now abated, to return to the fray.
She found Ben and Emily huddled in a corner, companionably watching the thinning crowd. They looked tight, as though they were sharing a secret. She wondered if she'd already lost Ben.
When she squeezed onto their seat beside Emily, he asked where she’d been.
‘With Gareth,’ she answered.
Emily interrupted before he could quiz her more.
‘Seriously, why are they still here?’ she asked, glaring across the room at Craig and Cassette leaning against the bar. With her back to them, Cassette was making a show of ignoring them. Craig, on the other hand, was watching them studiously.
‘I’m not sure which one is keeping the other here,’ Ben offered. ‘Between Craig watching Charlotte all evening and Cassette watching Emily, it’s hard to tell which one the stalker is.’
Charlotte would have kicked Ben had it not been for Emily in between them. Fortunately, her sister’s hearing was selective.
‘Really, she’s been watching me? That is creepy. I wonder if I should be scared of this woman.’
A movement at the entrance of the gallery suddenly caught all of their attention.
Emily moaned ‘Oh crap,’ and Ben stood to attention in front of her. Charlotte leapt to her feet and charged towards the door. From out of nowhere, Craig fell into step beside her, but she didn’t allow that to distract her. What Cassette was doing, she didn’t know.
Charlotte and Craig stopped together in front of Geoff, blocking his further progress into the gallery. They both spoke at once.
‘Get the fuck out of here,’ hissed Charlotte.
‘I don’t think this is such a good idea, mate,’ offered Craig, in a much more conciliatory manner.
Geoff put up his hands as if to ward them both off. ‘I’m just here to pass on my congratulations,’ he slurred and rocked backwards slightly, intoxicated.
Before Charlotte could rain down a torrent of abuse on him, Craig threw her by taking control of the situation, taking Geoff’s arm and pulling him off to one side, talking quietly and intensely. Charlotte quickly looked around the room.
The last few guests were edging past them on their way out of the door. Ben was still standing in front of Emily, casting furtive glances behind him and towards them, unsure of what he should do. Charlotte gave him a look that asked him to just stay there. Cassette was leaning on the bar, exactly where Craig had left her, with a smug look on her face that Charlotte would like to slap off. The bar staff watched intrigued, waiting for the drama to unfold. Gareth also watched on, scowling at the prospect of that happening. She turned back to tune in to what Craig was saying to Geoff.
‘C’mon mate, not tonight, hey. Do you really want to do this after a few drinks? Wouldn’t you rather have your head straight.’
Charlotte fought the urge to repeat her earlier sentiment. Geoff seemed to be wavering. Craig seemed to have it under control. Until Cassette decided to stir things up.
Charlotte listened to the ominous click, click, click of her heels on the polished floorboards as she made her way deliberately and slowly across the room. She had to do something, but she was rooted to the spot. She looked at Gareth and he sprang into action, racing over to Ben and Emily and herding them towards his office. They would escape out of the back door, unnoticed by Cassette, striding across her stage and by Geoff, too afraid to look towards his soon-to-be ex-wife.
Charlotte looked at Craig. He was coiled, ready to pounce. His eyes darted about the room, taking in the fleeing guests, the curious staff, the anxious proprietor and the absconding pair. He took in the cowering drunk and the vindictive princess clicking towards them. He took all of this in and then glanced at Charlotte, his magnet on full strength, making her want to move closer to him, to watch the show with his heat beside her. She did, just a little bit.
‘Hello, Geoff,’ Cassette preened, breaking the silence.
‘What are you doing here, Cassette?’ he responded, resigned rather than defiant.
Charlotte huffed at the irony, drawing a look from Craig. She glared back, but held her tongue.
‘Oh, I’m here to admire the art,’ Cassette continued. She reached for Geoff’s hand. ‘Now, don’t mind these two,’ she said, flapping her limp hand between Charlotte and Craig. ‘Why don’t you come in and see it? I’m told it’s about the seven stages of grieving.'
Geoff’s change of heart came too late. His resistance was feeble as Cassette walked him across the empty room to the first piece in the sequence.
Charlotte felt the pull again, stronger this time as Craig inched closer to her.
She looked at him. His face was set, his jaw clenched, but it had been that way all night. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned his head and studied her, clearly struggling with what to say. She looked away, hoping he’d say nothing. Releasing a barely audible sigh, he conceded, and turned back to watch his friend and her former lover.
Across the gallery, Cassette was commencing her tour.
‘Look, here is Shock,’ she announced, before a portrait of a couple locked in an embrace on the footpath of an empty street. Like all of the pieces, bar two, it was done in the Emily’s signature grey hues and looked as though the scene was crumbling before your eyes.
In the middle distance, a woman watched the couple from a third floor balcony of an apartment building, gripping the balcony rail.
Cassette moved to the next piece. ‘And this one is,’ she paused making a show of squinting at its title, ‘Denial.' It was a reversal of the first piece. The scene was the same but this time the observer was in the foreground, looking back towards the pair. In this instance they weren't kissing, but standing side by side, looking innocently towards their watcher.
‘Bargaining,’ Cassette continued her tour, dragging Geoff with her by the elbow. The third portrait was of the same woman in a spectacularly modern kitchen, a slight frown marking her forehead.
At this point Charlotte noticed Gareth re-enter the room. He nodded towards her, and she felt her shoulders relax a little. Emily and Ben were away.
Craig discerned their exchange, and she watched him process it out of the corner of her eye. He stole a glance at her, but she pretended not to notice, focusing her attention back on the ridiculous tour taking place before them.
‘Guilt,’ Cassette announced. ‘This one is my favourite. See how she tucks her legs up to her chest and wonders what she did wrong?' Sucking in a lungful of enraged air, Charlotte prepared to march across the room and unleash the warranted slap upon Cassette’s cheek, but a strong steadying hand on her arm held her back. ‘Let it unfold,’ Craig offered quietly and then thankfully withdrew his hand.
‘You really shouldn’t tell me what to do,’ Charlotte remarked, but without conviction.
‘That was advice, not instruction. I would never dream of telling you what to do, Charlotte Evans.’
Charlotte’s chest constricted at the way his voice caressed her name. She turned and looked at him. ‘I’m still not sure why you're here,’ she let out a resigned sigh, ‘but I am glad you are.'
His scowl evaporated. He smiled but said nothing.
Cassette was still steering Geoff around the gallery. ‘Oh and look at this one,’ she said. ‘What a vivid fire. And what is it that is burning? Is that clothes? Oh this one must be Anger.' Unlike the others, this piece was indeed vivid. The intense flames seemed to consume the canvas. Earlier, Charlotte had wondered how Emily had captured it with such realism. What exactly had happened that day she’d gone with Diane to pick up her clothes?
‘Depre
ssion’, Cassette continued. ‘This time she is lying in the bed that she made.' Charlotte bristled again, but stayed motionless this time.
‘And the last one, Geoff. Look at this. It’s Hope. Have you ever seen anything so full of promise.'
Hope was Charlotte’s favourite, not just because it was a masterpiece. Like Anger, it wasn’t washed in Emily’s usual style. It was a painting of a sunrise over the ocean, as promising as the fire in Anger was vivid. Sunrises weren't an original subject, but Charlotte had never seen one captured like this. And she knew the deep recesses of Emily’s mind from which the image had been dragged.
Meet me on the beach at sunrise. It was the one commitment their father always kept. No matter where he was living, he always made it to St Kilda Beach at sunrise on Christmas Day to see his children, who eagerly awaited him, lined up next to each other digging their toes in the sand. The hope Emily had so craftily captured in the painting was the hope they felt each year: that this year he would come home with them for the day. Some years he did, and some he didn’t. He never promised them anything more than meeting them on that beach, for fear he couldn’t keep his word. But the hope was always there; the pure hope of children. He met them every year from Charlotte’s first Christmas, which she didn’t even remember, to her twelfth, before he overdosed and came no more. It was the only thing he ever did that told them he loved them.
In her painting, Emily hadn’t captured just any old kind of hope. She’d captured the innocence of a child’s hope, and it spoke to Charlotte of new beginnings and the belief things would be different from now on.
Charlotte wiped away a rogue tear. The hasty movement didn’t go unnoticed.
‘And that’s the tour,’ Cassette announced. ‘What do you think, Geoff?’
Geoff was suddenly very sober and stealthily trying to figure out how the hell to get out of there. Trapped in a melodrama of his own making, he wasn’t sure where this performance was heading.
Cassette left him momentarily and clicked across the room to her handbag on the bar. Geoff remained frozen to the spot.
Set Me Free Page 20
