by Clare Chase
I imagined what Alicia would say. Okay, so she hadn’t approved of me working for Seb in the first place, but what would her reaction be if she knew I was considering giving up a £60K job for the sake of someone I’d only just met, who might not last five minutes in a relationship? I smiled to myself for a moment.
‘You’re taking a long time to answer,’ Darrick said, touching me more firmly and persuasively.
‘I’m not sure I should be making decisions about my future career based on carnal desire,’ I said.
‘Seems like quite a good reason to me,’ he replied.
‘Would you still see me if I stayed at Seb’s?’
‘Would you carry on working for a man who controls who you go out with for the sake of his petty criminal friends?’
‘No,’ I said eventually. The slowness of my answer was down to the distracting stroking, and where it was leading, rather than indecision. ‘I don’t think I would.’ The idea of giving it all up for him was suddenly daring and exciting. Throwing caution to the wind ran hand in hand with the passion I was feeling.
He rolled me towards him and began kissing me again with all the urgency of earlier in the evening. ‘When will you leave the gallery?’
‘As soon as I can,’ I said, when I was able to say anything. ‘But I can’t just walk out tomorrow.’ I drew in a sharp breath as he touched me again. ‘I’d be leaving them in the lurch. I’ll have to finish off a couple of things and then I’ll go.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I need you with me.’ And if we said anything more, I didn’t take in what it was.
Much later I woke again. Darrick wasn’t in bed, but I could hear him next door. There was a faint sound of the tapping of keys on his computer.
I suddenly wondered if an urgent message had come in from one of his employers. I had to be realistic about what he had said: he got called off at a moment’s notice to do some hazardous job or another. What would it really be like, being involved with someone like him if our relationship lasted?
I rolled over and lay on my back. It was too late now, I thought. Whatever it was like I had to be with him, for as long as he wanted to be with me. This simple thought and the absolute conviction I felt left me oddly calm. The upheaval of leaving the gallery seemed unimportant. What was happening now was meant to be.
I slept for a couple of hours. When I woke I glanced at the clock to see it was only 5 a.m. Darrick was back in bed again, deeply asleep by my side. I lay there for half an hour. I was having the kind of adrenaline rush that must get people addicted to riding in fast cars. My pulse raced at the thought of the night we’d spent together, and the decisions I’d made. I knew I needed to get on calmly with my day-to-day life until I’d sorted things out with Seb, but part of my brain was running away on a whole new track, already released from the confines I’d so recently placed myself in.
I felt fidgety, as though all the energy coursing through my veins would burst out at any minute. I didn’t want to sleep; I wanted to hold the feeling to me and relish every minute of it. As quietly and gently as I could, I slipped out from under the duvet, grabbed a jumper of Darrick’s from a chair, and tiptoed downstairs.
In the kitchen I made coffee, standing there cocooned in the warm wool that smelled of him. Then I carried my steaming drink over to the living area, which was covered, wall to ceiling, with shelves containing books and CDs. The reading matter was interesting: everything from George Orwell to John Grisham. There were lots of travel guides thrown in, along with rows of art books that occupied the bottom two shelves, I presumed because of their size and weight. I began work on scanning the CD collection. He owned several of the same albums as me; there was certainly a music overlap, which was always an encouraging sign.
I moved along to the next bookcase. Ah, photo albums. I spent a moment or two wondering if it was too intrusive to look at them, but the temptation was strong. Outwardly, they didn’t seem to be his style. Their covers were pink and purple in swirls, with a bow on the spine. Yuck. I giggled, still with that feeling of excitement bubbling up inside my stomach. Probably an old girlfriend had bought them for him. If I looked inside I would see some leggy blonde – probably twice my height – looking back at me. That would serve me right for snooping. I reckoned I was grown-up enough to cope, but all the same, why ruin the mood?
Instead I drew out the book next to the albums: Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, thinking I’d take it over and curl up with it on the sofa until Darrick got up. The books were tightly packed, so I had to tug to shift it. When it finally moved, the volume to its left and the photo album to its right came out too, and several loose snapshots fell onto the floor.
Just like a bloke. Some ex might have given him the albums, but he hadn’t spent any time laying out the pictures inside. The pages themselves were pristine and untouched. There weren’t even that many loose photos, but I guessed that those there were dated back some years. Darrick looked much younger in the first picture I found of him. Probably all the recent ones would be in digital format on his laptop.
Now I was desperate to get the pictures tidied away again before Darrick came down and thought I’d been digging my way through his personal stuff. It seemed unfair that I’d pulled back from the brink and not snooped, only to be put in a position where I looked guilty. I hastened to replace everything and return the album to the shelf.
It was as I was stacking the pictures up that I saw one of the photos featured a face I knew. I felt the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.
The picture had been taken at a wedding. A woman in a bridal dress stood to one side, laughing with one of the guests, and several other suited men and women had been caught side-on in mid flow. But all these people blurred away as I stared at the one face I recognised.
It was Seb’s old girlfriend, Julia.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It’s funny how your brain comes up with any number of explanations for something that’s unexpected, providing several ridiculous ones to explain away an anomaly you’d rather not accept.
My brain simply told me it was a coincidence; that Darrick wouldn’t even have realised this was Julia. After all, she was only one of a group and, in any case, it was clear from her black dress and white apron that she was a member of the serving staff. She must have been there to earn a bit of extra cash.
Darrick would have known the people who were getting married, but not the ones serving the champagne. It was quite obvious. That was the way my brain explained the picture. No matter that Julia was looking at the camera and smiling, as though there was some connection between her and the photographer. It was a coincidence; a startling one, but a coincidence nonetheless.
But then I turned the photograph over. Written on the back was “Julia at Margot and Matthew’s wedding, August 2000”.
I wasn’t familiar with Darrick’s handwriting, so I compared the script on the back of the photo with samples I found around the room. There was a half-filled notebook on a sideboard, and a pad by the telephone base station; all the scraps of writing matched the inscription. And now my brain was forced to look at a new explanation.
Darrick had known Julia; that was the plain truth.
It was as though I’d been punched. I’d heard other people claim to feel like that after a shock, but I’d always assumed it was a throwaway remark. Now I understood: it was like being winded. I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
Even in that state, I knew there was information I had to assimilate and also that I was keeping it at bay. The photograph carried a message I didn’t want to read and so, for the time being, I rejected it rather than analysing what it might be.
It took a moment – maybe several – before I realised that Darrick must be awake. I heard a door closing up above, and then the sound of a tap running.
Mechanically, I slid the photograph under the others and slipped them all back between the pages of the album.
He hadn’t told me, my mind kept saying, as I pushed the
album and the books back on to the shelf. He hadn’t told me he’d known Julia. More than that, he’d actively misled me. He’d asked about her, got me to describe what she’d looked like.
I managed to dress whilst he was in the bathroom, retrieving my crumpled clothes from the bedroom floor.
‘I’d forgotten I was meant to be in early for a meeting,’ I said, when he came back to the bedroom, his hair damp from the shower. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up my facade if we had to sit down to breakfast together.
On my way out Darrick pressed a bag of things to eat into my hand, his fathomless blue eyes meeting mine.
‘Are you all right?’ he said.
‘A bit hung-over, that’s all.’
He was still looking at me closely. ‘I’ve got to be away for a few days,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure how easy it’ll be to keep in touch, but if I can’t reach you before, I’ll call again as soon as I’m home.’
I nodded, backing out of the door, hardly hearing him. I only knew I had to get some space between us so I could think.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I would have done anything not to have had to go into work. I just wanted somewhere I could be alone and piece together what was going on.
On the tube I strained my memory to think of all the times Darrick and I had talked about Julia. He’d been so deceitful, that was what I couldn’t get over. I knew there were things he’d never be able to tell me about his work and that that part of his life might remain totally separate from anything we had going together. But with Julia it was different. I was already involved. I’d met her; she’d been the lover of one of my best friends. And all the time Darrick had known her too; well enough to take her photo at that wedding, just a few weeks before she’d died.
What was he after? That was the question. The only conclusion I could draw was that he wanted some kind of information from me. I remembered him asking whether Seb ever talked about Julia now.
It was becoming horribly clear that this was why he’d taken an interest in me. That first evening at the private view he’d quickly found out that I’d known Seb for a long time, and ever since then he’d been after me. It wasn’t for my own sake, but because of Julia.
I wondered if they could have been lovers. If they had, and it had been going on when that photograph had been taken, then it would have been whilst she was officially with Seb. She hadn’t seemed the type, but then who knew what might happen in the heat of the moment? I could testify to Darrick’s sex appeal, I thought bitterly. And if she had been dealing with that type of emotional maelstrom, on top of everything else, might it have contributed to her suicide?
I reached Waterloo and decided to walk from there. I didn’t take in my surroundings at all, but went on autopilot. The image that kept coming back to me was that of Julia in the photo, laughing, looking happy, very beautiful and very alive.
In the office I found Sinem had bought us all advent calendars. I hadn’t remembered the date, my mind had been so full of other things. I struggled my way through the jollity and chocolate eating. And then Seb wanted me to join him to talk to the public gallery representatives. As we walked them round Shakespeare’s paintings I felt terribly conscious of my secret knowledge; it seemed to hang in the air between us. Once or twice Seb looked at me as though he sensed there was something wrong.
After the visitors left we had a quick update with Radley.
‘I think they’ll each take something,’ Seb said. ‘The pack Anna put together was very convincing. There were some influential names in there saying all the right things.’
‘Which paintings were they looking at?’ Radley asked.
‘The two cheapest ones,’ said Seb, laughing. ‘Budgets are very tight, but one of them already has some finance secured from a local business sponsor. My guess is they’ll be back in touch to confirm before the day’s out. I told them one of our most regular buyers was coming in shortly and so it wouldn’t be wise to hang around.’
Radley made a face. ‘Meaning Lawrence Conran, I take it, who isn’t due for days and wouldn’t touch any of Shakespeare’s paintings with a bargepole anyway?’
‘Quite. I didn’t highlight Conran’s views on the matter.’
‘Well,’ said Radley, ‘Monica will want to know as soon as any sale’s confirmed, so she can plot it all on one of her spreadsheets.’
I began to get my files together, ready to go back to my office, but Radley still sat at Seb’s desk, making notes.
‘Are you all right, Anna?’ he asked, and although I was looking at him, I could feel Radley’s eyes on me as I answered.
‘Fine. Sorry – bit of a headache, that’s all.’
He frowned for a moment, looking into my eyes as though there might be more to see, but he let it go. ‘Don’t stick it out if you’re not well. After all, you’ve got a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.’
Just as I turned my head away I saw Radley raise her eyes to heaven. ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘I might take an early lunch break though, and get some air.’
However much Radley was sticking up for me officially, I had a feeling she felt Seb was being kinder and more lenient than was necessary. I was sure her management style would have been much tougher than his. Perhaps it made sense, given that she had to deal with a whole load of staff, whereas he only worked with a few people directly.
I went to get my coat and walked out of the building, cutting through towards the river where I stood and watched the water go by, grey and choppy in the dull morning light.
I wasn’t sure what to do about Seb. Should I tell him about the photo of Julia at Darrick’s flat? I wasn’t convinced it was worth the upset.
It could cause him to think, as I had, that Julia might have been unfaithful to him. It would alert him once again to Darrick’s interest in me and the gallery, but he was on his guard as far as that went anyway. Keeping the information to myself would hopefully just protect him from any hurt that might result.
It seemed odd that, in the early hours of that morning, I’d made up my mind I really couldn’t work for Seb any more. Now I was at a loss. The same should apply, whatever else was happening, but suddenly I just felt sorry for all that he had been through. Walking out didn’t seem like such a reasonable option after all.
And what was I going to do if Darrick called? Our relationship certainly wasn’t proceeding on the basis I’d thought it had been. In fact, it probably had no basis at all. Except what had happened the previous night had felt passionate and real.
I walked further from the gallery and then took out my phone. ‘Terry?’ He’d answered straight away. ‘Can we talk or are you making a soufflé?’
He laughed. ‘What’s on your mind? Or no, don’t tell me, you’re just calling to see how I am.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I felt awful. ‘I am calling to share something with you.’
‘Thought as much. What’s happened? Seb hasn’t pissed you off already has he?’
‘No. He’s been fine. I wish it was something that simple.’ I went on to tell him pretty much everything that had happened. It was the first time I’d even mentioned Darrick and I found it slightly awkward admitting we’d already spent the night together.
‘I had no idea you’d been holding out on me,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d have shared the news if you’d got a new beau on the horizon. Just saying.’
‘I’m sorry. I would have explained about him normally, but it’s been kind of complicated.’
‘That’s one way of putting it. And it doesn’t sound as though it’s getting any less so.’
‘You can say that again,’ I said. ‘And that’s why I need your advice. I can’t really see any reason to tell Seb. I mean, I don’t know what the photo’s all about, but bringing it up will only open old wounds.’
I heard Terry sigh. ‘You do pick them, don’t you?’ There was a pause. ‘Are you sure you aren’t just putting off telling Seb because it will mean admitting to seeing a man you’d promised t
o give up?’
‘I never promised him anything of the sort. He just assumed that’s what I’d do. And anyway, I’ve already thought about that and yes, I am sure.
‘I didn’t like him telling me who I could or couldn’t see though, even if it was relevant to the success of the gallery. I’d be quite prepared to come clean and resign over that, if necessary. But is there any point in telling him, that’s what I’m asking, given that it’s all such old history?’
‘It might be old history, Anna,’ Terry said, ‘but whatever significance it has – which is more than either of us knows – it’s affecting the here and now, isn’t it? It sounds as though Julia has been one of Darrick’s chief topics of conversation since you met. Whatever he’s up to, I’d say it was current.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I went and bought a sandwich, even though I wasn’t hungry, and then went back to the gallery, not feeling any better. I could see the truth in what Terry said, but I hadn’t promised him I’d tell Seb.
As I walked up the stairs to the administration floor I was still wondering what to do. The place was fairly deserted. If I was going to have it out with him this might not be such a bad time. I’d taken my lunch early, but now the bulk of the staff had gone off to get theirs. If Seb was in his office … But as I reached his corridor I could see that he wasn’t. I hung around for a moment in case he came back; it was quite usual for him to skip his lunch break.
A second later, Monica Smith came past, in a V-necked jumper and slacks, her mouth sour. ‘If you’re looking for Mr Rice you can give up for at least another hour,’ she said. ‘I saw him go off with Radley just after twelve-thirty.’ She made sure she had my attention and then added, ‘They tend to take quite some time, when they go off together.’
The tone she used and the way she emphasised her words made me pause. Was she saying what I thought she was saying? I looked at her but she made no other comment. Perhaps I’d imagined the nuance I’d thought she had applied.
