Beneath these Stars (Lucy Mitchell Book 2)

by Hannah Ellis

  The front door closed behind him. I slumped into a chair, sobbing into my hands. I allowed myself a few minutes, then I picked myself up and looked around. I plucked a photo of the four of us off the fridge. Hailey had taken it with my phone; we’d been watching a movie on the couch and Hailey had been in a silly mood. She’d jumped across us to take a selfie, directing us to move in and smile.

  I found a shopping bag by the back door and moved from room to room, adding anything I wanted. There was little of mine that I cared about. I ended up with a bag of random objects: a hair slide of Emily’s, a bottle of Adam’s aftershave, a photo of Adam and me taken when we were first dating, a cushion from Hailey’s bed (I knew she’d notice it was gone, but she wouldn’t mind I’d taken it. She had so many cushions).

  When I walked out of the house I was furious with Adam. I pulled roughly at the car door and threw my bag of treasures onto the passenger seat.

  I’d already begun to drive away when I glanced in the mirror and caught sight of the garage. On impulse I reversed to it and jumped out of the car. I went into the garage, picking out framed photos from the stacks. They were old now and Adam would say they weren’t his best. I left the biggest pictures, collecting a mix of the smaller and medium-sized ones and making a pile in the middle of the room. Adam never came in here any more – and even if he did, I didn’t think he’d notice some missing photos, there were so many. Besides, he had said I could take whatever I wanted.

  By the time I’d loaded up the car, my anger had subsided and all I felt was sadness. I walked back into the house and went slowly up the stairs to our bedroom, where I took Adam’s camera out of his wardrobe and placed it carefully in the middle of the bed.

  Chapter 34

  There was a good chance I was losing my mind. I left Havendon and drove straight to The White Kitchen, my car full of Adam’s framed photographs. I’d debated calling first but decided I had a better chance of making my case in person.

  Adam had been all set to display his work in the restaurant, but then his sister died and he pulled out, taking six weeks off work before returning full-time to the television studios. Back then, The White Kitchen had been an up-and-coming restaurant. The owners, Jonathan and Ollie, shared a passion for great food and great art. Their vision was to combine the two, showcasing a mix of work by new and established artists on the walls of the restaurant.

  I’d Googled the restaurant and learned that the place had really taken off: during busy periods, people queued along the street to get in. They had a Michelin-starred chef and it had become the place to be seen.

  The stonework at the front of the restaurant was painted white and an understated slate sign hung over the door, announcing The White Kitchen in simple white letters. I peered through the window and saw movement at the back of the restaurant. Knocking gently on the door brought no reply, so I rapped loudly. A middle-aged woman finally opened the door a fraction.

  “We’re not open yet,” she told me.

  “I know, sorry. I’m here to talk to Jonathan and Ollie about artwork for the walls.”

  “You’re early,” she said, opening the door wide. “They’re not expecting any artists until later.”

  “My mistake,” I said. “Should I come back later?”

  “They’re in with the chef, discussing changes for the menu, but I’ll see if they’ve got a few minutes for you.”

  I walked past her when she stood to one side.

  “Wow!” My eyes feasted on the room. The concept was simple. Elegant décor, all in white: bright white tablecloths and napkins, plain white walls. Nothing about the restaurant was striking, but that meant the eye was immediately drawn to the artwork on the walls. It was an effective strategy. It was like a restaurant in an art gallery.

  “Peter Vincent.” The woman followed my gaze to the nearest painting. “Have you heard of him?”

  “No,” I told her.

  “He’s taking the art world by storm. I’d get one of these for myself if I could afford it. But I think that about most of the art that graces these walls. I’m surrounded by this all day and then go home to an Ikea rainforest print!”

  I smiled at her. “How often does the artwork change?”

  “There’s a different artist every three months,” she told me. “And they have artists queuing up to display their work here. What did you say your name was?”

  “I’m Lucy Mitchell,” I told her. “I’m here on behalf of Adam Lewis. The photographer.” At the mention of Adam’s name her brow furrowed slightly. She looked as though she was about to say something, but then carried on through the door.

  I wandered the room, looking at the artwork and losing hope. Now that the restaurant was so well established, I wasn’t sure how much luck I would have in persuading the owners to display Adam’s photos. Although that might not be a bad thing, since I’d technically be dealing in stolen goods.

  “Hi.” A voice broke into my thoughts. I turned to see two men who looked to be in their early thirties walking through the door.

  “I’m really sorry to bother you,” I said, walking towards them and offering my hand. “I’m Lucy Mitchell. I wanted to talk to you about artwork for the restaurant walls, but it seems like there’s probably a long waiting list.”

  “There is. I’m Ollie.”

  I was drawn to his striking ginger hair, which was cut short and neat. He wore a crisp white shirt and smiled warmly at me.

  “Jonathan,” the second guy said when he shook my hand. He had a similar lean build to Ollie, but had dark hair peppered with grey. “We’re not taking on any more artists for the restaurant at the moment.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks anyway.” I smiled at them, feeling suddenly awkward under their scrutiny. “I’ll let you get back to work, then.”

  “But Stephanie said you were here for Adam Lewis…” Ollie said as I made to leave.

  “Yes, that’s right.” I turned back to them and caught them exchanging a look.

  “Interesting,” Jonathan said. “Do you have any of his work with you?”

  “Yes, in the car.”

  “Let’s go and have a look, then,” he replied.

  I opened the boot of the car and they looked through the pictures without saying a word.

  Ollie finally straightened up and looked at me. Jonathan continued looking through the pictures. “We’re interested,” he said.

  “Oh!” I frowned in surprise and at the same time realised the absurdity of what I was doing. I couldn’t actually sell Adam’s photos. “I thought you weren’t looking for anything at the moment?”

  “Not for the restaurant,” he said.

  “Come with us,” Jonathan said, closing the car door. I followed obediently as they set off down the road. A few doors down from The White Kitchen was another white-fronted building adorned with a similar slate sign that read White Ice.

  “We’re sticking with the white theme,” Ollie told me. “But this is our latest venture.” He opened the door and led me into a bar. It was decorated in the same style as the restaurant but had different artwork hanging on the walls.

  “It’s amazing,” I said, looking around and ignoring the panic that was rising steadily.

  “We had so many people waiting for tables that we thought we’d open a cocktail bar and take more money off their hands while they waited.” Jonathan smiled and motioned for me to take a seat at a table. “And then we realised it also helped us turn tables quicker if we could offer an alternative place to carry on drinking and chatting once people had finished eating.”

  “That’s great,” I said, panicking. Why couldn’t the conversation have ended when they said they weren’t looking for any artwork at the moment? I had the feeling I’d wandered into quicksand and was sinking fast.

  “In the restaurant we display one artist’s work for three months,” Jonathan went on, “but in here we change artists every week.”

  “It’s a logistical nightmare.” Ollie laughed. “But it keeps
us on our toes.”

  “I’ll bet.” I looked around, trying to keep my nerves under control.

  “We should probably be honest.” Jonathan glanced at Ollie. “We have a running joke about Adam.”

  I felt my eyebrows dart upwards.

  “He’s the one that got away,” Ollie leaned in and told me quietly. They exchanged another look and shared a laugh. I smiled awkwardly.

  “Sorry,” Jonathan said. “We’re making you uncomfortable, aren’t we? You’re his girlfriend, right? The one from the reality show?”

  “Yes,” I said, trying not to show any emotion. I didn’t think it would go down well if I said that I was his ex who’d swiped a load of pictures when he kicked me out.

  “Adam’s the only artist who ever turned us down,” Ollie said. “We never really got over it.”

  “He was also one of our favourites,” Jonathan confided. “We liked him as a person and we loved his photographs.”

  “And then he ditched us!” Ollie chimed in. “Didn’t even reply to our emails.”

  “So we discussed him a lot!” Jonathan said. “It became a joke with us: what we’d say if he ever came crawling back.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It must have seemed really unprofessional.”

  “We thought he must have got a better offer, but we’re well connected in the art world and we never heard anything about him.”

  “It was a personal matter,” I told them, feeling they were owed an explanation. “A tragedy in the family. He gave up photography for a while.”

  They nodded and looked at each other again.

  “We have a standard contract for artists,” Ollie told me. “But for you we’d have one more condition.”

  I nodded and he continued.

  “We’d each like a picture.”

  “That’s it?” I asked, disappointed that it wasn’t the sort of thing that I could withdraw the deal over.

  “When Adam cancelled on us, I was mostly annoyed that I’d missed out on the chance to get one of his photos,” Jonathan said.

  “I don’t think that will be a problem,” I told them.

  “Great.”

  “When would you display them?” I asked, hoping the waiting list would be long enough for me to think of a good excuse and wriggle out of the crazy idea.

  “Hard to say,” Ollie said. “We’ve got quite a lot lined up but we try and keep things pretty flexible in the bar. It might be a couple of months.”

  “That’s fine,” I told him. That bought me a bit of time.

  “We’ve got a garage out the back that we use for storage, if you want to leave them there. We’ve got plenty of space at the moment.”

  “That would be great,” I said. I wasn’t sure what I would do with them otherwise. In a couple of months, Adam might have calmed down and I could tell him about it. He might be happy about it. And if not, I’d just come and get them back and make up an excuse.

  “I can get you a copy of the contract now,” Ollie said. “We’ll just need Adam’s signature on it.”

  “Of course.” My hands were suddenly clammy and I felt my sweat glands jump into action.

  “We’d need to talk about the price. A lot of new artists either under- or over-value their work, so we like to have a say in the price. If our price points don’t match up, then we tend to part ways with artists.”

  “I’m sure we could come to an agreement,” I said, doubting we’d ever get that far.

  “We display the photos for a week and then at the end of the week you can come and pick up any that didn’t sell – and the money for those that did,” Jonathan told me.

  “That sounds good,” I said, standing when Jonathan and Ollie did.

  “We have to get back to the chef now, but we’ll get Stephanie to help you unload the pictures and give you the contract. You can fax or email it back to us. Leave your details with Stephanie and we’ll be in touch.”

  I thanked them and we walked back to the restaurant together. The dishonesty left me feeling uneasy. I told myself that, with everything that had gone on, I was bound to have a crazy moment here and there. But I knew that wasn’t really an excuse for what I’d done.

  Chapter 35

  “Is Hailey here?” Max asked when I walked into Dad’s house on Sunday.

  “No, she’s at home,” I told him. He sighed in disappointment and disappeared up the stairs.

  “What a welcome,” I said, hugging Kerry.

  “It’s just the age, I’m afraid. Big sisters aren’t that cool any more!”

  “Obviously. Where’s Dad?”

  “Hiding up in the study. Do you need him?”

  “No.” I followed her into the kitchen. “How are you guys?”

  “Same as ever. Surviving! How are you doing?”

  “Hovering somewhere between not very good and terrible…”

  She gave me a sympathetic look and poured me a coffee from the pot.

  “Did you manage to talk to Adam?”

  “I was there yesterday, but he won’t let me see the girls. We had an argument and he told me to get the rest of my stuff and get out. I don’t know what to do. I understand that he’s angry with me, but I can’t believe he’s keeping me from the girls.”

  Kerry took a seat at the kitchen table and pulled a chair out for me. I sank heavily into it.

  “You probably won’t remember,” she told me softly. “But when you were about five, you ended up in hospital with pneumonia. Your dad rang me to say they were taking you into intensive care and I left work and rushed over to the hospital. When I got there I made the mistake of telling the nurse that I was your dad’s girlfriend. She told me that only parents were allowed in to see you…”

  She paused and her eyes welled up with tears. “I wanted to punch her,” she went on. “I’d been with your dad for almost two years and you spent most weekends and holidays with us. I’d been up at night with you and looked after you when you were sick, and suddenly this stupid woman made me feel like I was nobody.”

  I’d never heard this story, and I listened intently as Kerry recalled it.

  “I waited for three hours in the hospital café until the nurses changed shift and then I told the next nurse that I was your stepmum and I’d just nipped out for a coffee. She let me straight in. At that point I think I really would have knocked out anyone who told me I couldn’t see you.” Kerry shook her head as though shaking away the memories.

  “Thank you,” I said, moving to hug her. “You were always such an amazing mum to me and I don’t think I ever said thank you.”

  “Shut up!” she said, sniffing as she pulled away from me. “I’ll be blubbing all day!”

  I’d never really looked at things from Kerry’s point of view. It wasn’t that I hadn’t appreciated her; I had. I was always grateful that she was in my life. Since I had been looking after the girls, I’d been able to see what the other side of the relationship was like, and I knew I wanted them to be sitting in my kitchen in twenty years telling me their problems. I couldn’t let Adam keep me away from them now.

  “I need to go,” I told Kerry, only halfway through my coffee.

  This time when I walked in the door and shouted “hello” the girls came running, nearly knocking me over when they flung themselves at me.

  “I missed you so much,” I cried, clinging to them and covering them with kisses.

  “I knew you’d come back.” Emily grinned at me. “Are you staying forever?”

  “I’ve just come for a visit today,” I said.

  “I want you to stay forever,” she said, sticking out her bottom lip.

  “I’ll stay for a while,” I told her with a smile. Adam glared at me from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Can I have a quick word with you outside?” he said calmly.

  “Can you do some colouring with me?” Emily asked.

  “In a minute,” I promised. “I just need to talk to Uncle Adam for a minute.” I shot Hailey a look and she directed Emily int
o the living room.

  “What are you doing here?” Adam asked me on the doorstep.

  “I came to see the girls.”

  “I told you I don’t want you coming over.”

  “You can’t just cut me out of their lives. It’s not fair. I have a right to see them.”

  “You don’t, though,” he snapped. “You don’t have any rights!”

  “Please let me have an hour with them,” I pleaded. “I’m not just going to walk away from them.”

  “It’s confusing for them,” he said.

  “Their whole life is confusing! And that’s not the reason you don’t want me to see them. You’re angry with me and you want to hurt me. But you’re punishing the girls, and that’s not fair.” I took a breath and he stayed quiet, pacing in front of me. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you honestly think it’s better for the girls not to see me.”

  He stopped pacing. Our eyes locked. I watched his anger slip away until there was only pain in his eyes. For the briefest moment, I caught a glimpse of the Adam I’d fallen in love with. An image of him laughing shot through my mind, and I chased it away again. I wished things had worked out differently for us, but there was no point dwelling on it. I had to focus on the girls.

  “You can have an hour with them,” he agreed before turning and walking away down the drive. I stood and watched him leave, my heart feeling as though it was crumbling in my chest. The man I had loved could barely stand the sight of me.

  Pulling myself together, I took a deep breath and slapped on a smile and went to see Emily and Hailey.

  When I couldn’t stand to be in the house any longer, I hustled the girls outside and down to the playground. I’d never felt as though I could make the house my own with Ruth constantly hovering over me, but somewhere along the way it had crept into my heart and had become mine anyway. Even with the girls’ constant chatter, I was still assaulted by a million memories and tormented by the knowledge that I was just visiting. It wasn’t my home any more; I’d have to leave soon and go back to living in a lonely room in someone else’s house.