by Clare Chase
‘That is the super rich,’ I said. ‘And may I say I find you horribly cynical?’
‘Or out of a love for art, of course,’ Alicia said, topping up her glass. ‘And in any case, Mel looks set to do very well out of the venture, even if they don’t all spend thousands. The food’ll be upmarket and she’s having a champagne bar that people can visit on the way in. It will all help to create that feel-good atmosphere she’s aiming for, to make sure the customers cough up.’
‘So when’s she launching all this then?’
‘I’m not sure exactly,’ Alicia said, ‘but it must be quite soon because I know she’s been interviewing for …’ She paused suddenly, her eyes taking on a knowing look. ‘Ah! I see what you’re getting at. You’re wondering if the press have already got hold of it …’
‘And if not, whether I might be allowed first dibs,’ I said. ‘Well, the thought had crossed my mind. It would make an interesting feature, and I bet I could sell it to the arts section of The Enquirer.’
Alicia came over to where I was standing and patted me on the shoulder. ‘I’m glad you’re still thinking like a journalist,’ she said. She picked up the mushrooms I’d been about to chop and put them back in their bag.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Well,’ Alicia said as she slid my chopped onion into a Tupperware box, ‘as far as I know she hasn’t gone public on it yet. And now I think about it I can’t imagine why I didn’t suggest you should cover it before.’
She put the onions and mushrooms into the fridge. ‘They’ll keep until tomorrow,’ she said, ‘in spite of the condition they’re in. Time is of the essence, so you’d better come along with me now, to Leicester Square. You might as well tackle Mel about it straight away. For all I know she’s working out which journalists to call as we speak.’
I argued with Alicia all the way to the station. ‘I can’t just gatecrash your dinner,’ I said. ‘Mel’s not expecting me.’
‘I could call ahead if you like.’
‘That won’t help; it’s still presenting her with a fait accompli. I’d rather you went and talked to her about it first. Then, if she’s happy for me to interview her, I can arrange a time when she’s not expecting a quiet evening out with a friend.’
Alicia looked round at me, her expression exasperated. ‘Honestly, Anna, you do make the most tremendous fuss about everything. I’m quite sure she won’t mind you being there, and she can always say no.’
Everything was consistently black and white as far as Alicia was concerned. She’d never been held back by tact or self-doubt. ‘As a matter of fact,’ she went on as the tube doors slid shut, ‘she’ll probably be delighted that you’re with me. The only person from the gallery that she sees occasionally these days is Sebastian himself. And he’s not going to be honest about what’s going on. She’ll want all the gossip.’
‘Which will put me in a great position,’ I said through gritted teeth.
‘Fair’s fair, Anna. If you scratch her back she’ll probably scratch yours.’
We spent most of the journey in silence. I didn’t really think Mel would mind me just turning up. If she’d wanted a heart to heart with Alicia (which seemed extraordinary) then she might be mildly annoyed or disappointed, but nothing more than that. No, what got me was simply Alicia’s habit of railroading people – and possibly my own failure to stop her in her tracks. It was quite nice to be out and about though. Maybe it would stop me from thinking about Darrick for an hour or two.
From Leicester Square tube we walked along Cranbourn Street and then cut off down a side road to find the restaurant.
‘Now,’ said Alicia as we went in, ‘don’t go all shy and apologetic. It’ll be good for her to get some publicity and you’re just the person to handle it. Don’t forget that.’
I had been feeling just about all right until she opened her mouth. The moment she assumed I would naturally be feeling unconfident and generally rubbish, my mood plummeted.
I hadn’t seen Mel for a number of years. We’d met every so often in the early days of Seb’s gallery, but since then I’d only seen her once, very formally, at a drinks do and then after that she and Seb had separated. I wasn’t even sure I’d recognise her now, and the room was rather dark.
Alicia spoke to a waiter who ushered us over to a table in the far corner. ‘He’s going to lay an extra place for you,’ she said to me. ‘So you see, it’s quite all right.’
‘Are we early?’ I said, glancing at my watch.
‘Just by a few minutes, but Mel’s a very good time keeper so I’m sure she’ll be along any moment.’
The waiter came over with a large tray and transferred cutlery, napkin and glass to my place with great ceremony.
Just as he was leaving us again Alicia nudged my arm. ‘Oh look,’ she said. ‘There she is.’
I glanced up and there was Mel, over by the doorway. I did recognise her of course. She’d had her hair cut short into a bob, but other than that she looked very much the same: statuesque and sleek.
Alicia waved a hand – unnecessarily, as the waiter was already directing Mel towards us – and she peered over, trying to make out who I was.
Then the strangest thing happened. She was about halfway from the door to our table and suddenly she just stopped. I’d swear it was when she realised it was me. And then it was all a bit embarrassing. I got the impression that she just couldn’t think what to do. It was rather like watching a rabbit in headlights.
‘What on earth’s the matter with her?’ Alicia said. She spoke quite loudly, so that anyone on neighbouring tables who hadn’t already noticed the situation was alerted to the unfolding scene.
At that moment Mel seemed to snap out of it and gave Alicia a look, so that she got up and went over to have a quiet word – in the middle of the restaurant, with everyone watching. A minute later, Mel disappeared and Alicia came back to the table.
‘What on earth’s the matter?’ I said. ‘And where’s she gone?’
‘She’s gone to the powder room.’
‘And you’re about to tell me I was right, and she doesn’t want to talk to me about the new restaurant, aren’t you?’ I said, fiddling awkwardly with my specially laid fork.
‘It’s not something I could have foreseen,’ Alicia said. ‘And it’s nothing to do with the interview.’
Thinking about it, I realised this must be true. Alicia hadn’t had time to explain my presence in that much detail.
‘But I’m afraid it won’t work out, us pursuing that this evening,’ she said.
I gave her a look. ‘So what gives?’
‘I don’t know, but apparently she needs to see me alone. I said I’d explain before she comes back out again.’ She looked across at me. ‘Will you be all right getting back to Hampstead?’
I had the insane feeling she was about to check I had enough money on my Oyster card. ‘I think I’ll manage.’ I got up and felt several tables’ worth of eyes on my back. I was glad we’d managed to create some passing excitement.
‘Oh and, Anna,’ Alicia called, in a carrying voice as I made my way towards the door. I turned my head. ‘Mel did say to say that she was very sorry to put you out.’
I bought a burger from a stand and held onto it with numb fingers as I walked through the wind, back to the station.
Really weird. That was the only conclusion I could come to. That Mel wanted a private chat with Alicia about something was fair enough. Odd choice of companion but still, there was no accounting for people’s tastes. What made it peculiar was that she felt the need to hide in the ladies’ loo until I’d left the premises; that and her reaction when she’d realised that it was me sitting there. She’d quite clearly not known how to handle the situation for several seconds. It wasn’t often that a circumstance like that occurred.
Whatever she’d said to Alicia, I thought, as I stuffed the burger wrapper into a bin, it wasn’t just that she didn’t want to spend the evening with a third person. It was that she di
dn’t want to spend the evening with me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The following week plodded on without any further contact from Darrick. Twice I had composed a message to him, but each time I deleted it without pressing the send button.
It was dank and murky as I walked from the tube station into work on Thursday. He was due back that evening and I wondered if he would text again. Damp hung in the air, chilling me to the core and leaving a queer, metallic taste on my tongue.
I’d only been in the office for half an hour before Seb came in. The suit and shirt he wore were black. He had no tie; instead his top shirt button was undone. Privately I thought he looked great, but didn’t like to say so in case it gave him the impression I was making up to him, which would be bad, or buttering him up, which would be worse.
‘Morning,’ he said, including Sinem and Elsie in his greeting. ‘Anna, I could do with a word if you’ve got a minute.’ Behind his back I saw Elsie give an elaborate roll of her eyes.
I walked down the corridor with Seb towards his office. As he closed his door behind us he said, ‘Lawrence Conran’s coming in today, as you know.’
I nodded.
‘He was meant to be here this morning, before opening time, but he’s just called to say he can’t make it until this afternoon now.
‘It shouldn’t be busy though,’ Seb went on, ‘and he doesn’t stand on ceremony, so that’s all right. Besides, it’ll be good for business if people see a serious buyer looking around.’ He paused and glanced across at me. ‘I’d like you to lead on his visit.’ He moved back to perch on the edge of his desk and motioned for me to take a seat.
My immediate thought was that Lawrence Conran knew Darrick. Whatever Sally had said I felt a little leap inside me at the idea of spending time with someone who might know what made him tick. ‘Sure,’ I said, keeping my tone casual.
‘I’m still livid with Lawrence honestly, over that business with Darrick Farron,’ Seb said. ‘But I can’t risk getting into a situation where I’m grilling him about why he helped an imposter. Lawrence buys a lot from us and getting into some kind of argument with him would be too high a price to pay.’
‘I understand,’ I said. ‘You’d like me to talk to him because I’ll be able to stay neutral, and you can keep your distance until it’s all blown over?’
He nodded. ‘Partly that, and also two other reasons. Firstly I think he’ll like you and buy more if he deals with you.’
I glanced up at him.
‘Honestly,’ he said. ‘You did a great job with the guys from the public galleries, Anna. Even if Lawrence hadn’t betrayed my trust, I’d still be sending you off to deal with him.’
To cover my embarrassment I said, ‘And you mentioned there was another reason?’
‘Well, it did occur to me that Lawrence might give something away about what was behind Darrick Farron’s unorthodox visit. I don’t imagine he’ll provide you with the whole story or anything. And …’ He put up a hand, seeing the look on my face. ‘… I’m certainly not asking you to actively probe for information. That said, he’s more likely to open up with you. If he does mention anything you think I ought to know, perhaps you could tell me?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘But don’t forget that Darrick …,’ I paused, realising I should use his surname. ‘… Farron did say he was at the gallery looking into one of your potential clients. Do you still want more information, even though his work wasn’t directly connected with us?’
He nodded. ‘Anything that affects my clients affects me too. And anyway …’ He got up, walked across to his window, and looked out across the rooftops. ‘… he hasn’t been renowned for telling the truth so far.’ He turned back to face me. ‘If anything does crop up that indicates he has an interest in anything else – something that involves us more closely – I’d definitely like to be the first to know.’
I thought of the photograph and of how I’d ignored Terry’s advice and still not told Seb about it. As soon as I’d seen Lawrence Conran I would have to weigh up the overall impression I got of Darrick’s motives, and then decide what to pass on.
As Lawrence wasn’t due until after lunch I’d assumed I’d have a clear morning to get through some of the jobs that had been piling up. Sinem had a variety of press releases for me to sign off, there was a phone call I needed to make to another one of Seb’s rich buyers, and a whole load of text to write for a brochure. However, I’d only been back at my computer for ten minutes when the front desk called up.
‘Visitor for you,’ Debbie, the receptionist, said. ‘Could you possibly come down? I’d bring them up but Baz has had to nip out.’
She hung up before I could ask who it was.
‘Off out again?’ Elsie asked, as I got up from my desk.
It couldn’t be Darrick, I reasoned as I got into the lift. Despite the fact that he’d said he wouldn’t be back until that evening, and that the gallery was the last place he’d visit, he was still the first person to come to mind when Debbie called. It was so ridiculous: that automatic little flutter of anticipation I couldn’t quite suppress.
So if not Darrick, then could it be Alicia, come to inspect my desk? I couldn’t think who else would drop in on me. Sally would be at work.
I got out of the lift and walked towards the foyer. Well, it definitely wasn’t Darrick. I felt my insides right themselves as I looked ahead to see a middle-aged lady I didn’t recognise. There was no one else by the desk.
As I got nearer she must have heard my footsteps and turned round to smile a greeting. ‘You must be Anna, yes?’ She held out a hand for me to shake.
She was one of the most elegant women I’d ever seen. Her hair was a beautiful slate grey, her eyes huge, and she was standing up very straight.
‘My name is Nadine Constantin,’ she said, after we’d shaken hands. ‘Call me Nadine please. Do you have a moment? We could use your lovely gallery cafe perhaps?’ She spoke with a soft French accent. ‘I should explain that I am a friend of Zachariah Shakespeare’s mother.’ She put a finger up to her lips. ‘It is not the kind of thing I can say in front of dear Zakkie,’ she said. ‘He hates to admit he even has a mother. It is far too conventional for him.’
I grinned, enjoying a momentary image of Shakespeare drinking sherry with ladies of a certain age in a respectable drawing room. ‘I can imagine that.’
I went up to the cafe counter but the waitress seemed to recognise me and instantly volunteered to bring our coffees over, taking great care to make sure we were comfortable and had everything we needed. It felt very odd and, I suddenly realised with a guilty little shock, rather nice at the same time.
‘So,’ Nadine said, ‘fate has been at work.’
I wondered what on earth was coming next.
‘One day I was round having dinner with my old friends Beatrix and Reggie Shakespeare …’ I loved the fact that he had a father called Reggie. ‘… and in came Zachariah, fresh from being interviewed by the press, which tends to make him bad-tempered.’
‘Oh dear,’ I said, thinking of my own rather bizarre session with him. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘But no,’ Nadine said, holding up a hand, ‘do not be sorry because on this occasion he was in a very good mood and actually made quite amusing company at dinner.’ She took a sip of her drink. ‘It is good coffee,’ she said, smiling again. ‘So, we asked Zakkie about his day, and he said he had been interviewed by someone who was anything but ordinary.’ She looked at me over the rim of her cup and raised her eyebrows. ‘You my dear, evidently!’
I felt my cheeks go red. ‘To be honest, I didn’t feel I’d done a very good job at all.’
She put down her cup and waved away my comment with her hand. ‘He said you did not stick to the script that his awful PR lady was insisting on. He said you let him talk about Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. He thought that was fun. Partly because it irritated the PR lady, admittedly.’
‘Yes, I noticed she wasn’t too pleased.’
Nadine laughed. ‘Zakkie liked what you spoke about because it was …’ She sought the right word. ‘… quirky. That was how he put it. He does not want to seem ordinary, that is true, but what is ordinary about an artist, that paints such pictures, talking to the press about films watched by children?’
I hadn’t thought of it like that before.
Other people had started to filter into the cafe now it was past opening time. The woman from behind the counter still found a minute to bring us a plate of cakes though.
‘How delightful,’ Nadine said to her, picking up a chocolate brownie. ‘It must certainly have its rewards, working in this place.’ She took a bite. ‘But I presume you are just here for the short term? With all your other commitments, I mean?’
‘I’m fitting my journalism around work for the gallery at the moment,’ I said, not wanting to admit the fact that I might be letting my writing slide.
‘But it must be hard to fit in all your interests, what with the bags as well,’ she said, opening her eyes wide.
I swallowed a mouthful of coffee to provide thinking time. ‘The bags?’ I wasn’t keeping up.
‘Ah, I should have explained,’ Nadine said. ‘That is the coincidence of which I spoke. One day I hear your name at the house of Zakkie Shakespeare, and the next I hear it from my niece, Camille Bouton.’
The cogs had been whirring as my brain tried to get a grip, but now it was all starting to come together. Camille Bouton was one of the two names Sally had passed on to me after the posh party she’d been to.
‘I was interested to hear from Camille about your bags,’ Nadine said, ‘and now she has shown me one, I am even more interested. So.’ She took a Florentine biscuit from the plate. ‘Then I knew you were a talented textile artist and a journalist.’ She pushed the plate of cakes towards me. ‘Quick,’ she said, ‘before I eat them all. And you write about what? Always art?’
‘A real mixture,’ I said. ‘In the last few weeks I’ve written about a celebrity caterer and a New York talent agent.’
