Through the Glass

by Lisa J. Hobman

  Smirking at the truth of the man’s words, Jim said, “Aye, I think I could be inclined to agree, mate.” He nodded and took a swig of his Jack and Coke.

  The man held out his hand. “Julian Forster.” Jim reciprocated and the pair connected in a firm handshake.

  “Jim MacDuff.”

  “Aren’t you Felicity’s partner?” Julian enquired.

  “Husband.”

  “Ah…but she doesn’t have your name,” Julian observed.

  Flinching at the comment, Jim took another swig of his drink. “Long story.”

  “Hmmm. I bet that’s a load of pretentious bollocks, too,” Julian said dryly.

  Jim laughed. “Do you know what, mate? I think you just hit the nail on the head.”

  “Come on, Jim. I say we go and make the most of the free bar.” Julian suddenly perked up.

  “Aye. Why the fuck not?” Jim followed the artist as he led the way to the place where Dutch courage could be acquired on tap.

  “She used to paint you know,” Jim offered as he caught sight of his beautiful wife, who was busy networking, smiling, and flirting as she did, without realising it.

  “Used to?” Julian’s response told Jim that he couldn’t imagine painting being something discussed in the past tense.

  “Aye, she gave up when all this started.” He took another gulp of his Jack Daniels, neat this time. He hissed as the heat from the amber liquid slid down his throat.

  “Shit. How could she give it up? With me it’s…it’s who I am.” Julian watched Flick too now, shaking his head as he spoke. “I know you shouldn’t let such things define who you are, but with me it…well it just does,” Julian explained.

  “Aye, well, with Flick it clearly is not the case,” Jim concluded.

  “Does she miss it?”

  “She never talks about it. Not really. It’s a shame though. She was bloody good at it. And I used to love watching her paint.” Jim smiled absentmindedly as images of a paint-covered Flick flashed through his mind.

  “Huh. What a bloody waste.”

  “Aye…you can say that again, mate.”

  After that particular meeting, the two men found themselves at several other gallery and art world functions together. Finding solace in each other’s company they would stand at the bar uncomfortably attired in their suits, drinking and complaining about how plastic some people were.

  ~~~~~

  January 2012 — Two Years and Eleven Months After the Break-up

  Jim was trying to formulate the plan that his brother had conjured up the idea for. Even though he had found a number for Julian Forster, he was in no way sure that Julian would even still have the same mobile phone. People these days seemed to change their gadgets like they did their underwear. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he reminded himself. as he picked up his phone and dialled.

  “Hel-lo?” came the response at the other end.

  “Hi, is this Julian Forster?” Jim asked tentatively.

  “That all depends on who wants to know,” replied the stern male voice.

  “I…don’t know if you’ll remember me…my name is Jim MacDuff. We met—”

  “Jim! Of course I remember you. My partner in the crime of hating all things plastic. How could I forget? How the hell are you, mate?” Julian’s voice perked up at the realisation.

  “Great, thanks, Julian.” Jim’s voice wavered and he cringed at the sound of it.

  “Call me Jules, please, all my friends do. What can I do for you?”

  “Look, you know how I told you that Felicity used to paint?”

  “Yeah…I still don’t get how she could give it all up to sell other people’s work.”

  “Well, that’s just it. I need to ask your advice…and maybe a favour, too.”

  Jim went on to explain about his divorce from Felicity, their recent meeting, the letter from Edgar, and that he wanted to ask his professional opinion about Flick’s paintings.

  “Wow, mate that’s some serious stuff. And you’ll never believe this but I’m in Inverness right now! I’ve been painting for fun again. London just consumes and digests you until there’s nothing left to give. I have to get away every so often to remember why the hell I started painting in the first place. How about I meet you in the city next Friday, and I’ll take a look at the pieces?”

  “Jules, I would be eternally grateful, mate. Thanks so much.”

  “No worries at all. I can see why you love it up here so much, Jim. The Black Isle is stunning beyond words. I’ve rediscovered my passion for painting Scottish scenery again. I think Felicity would be crazy not to jump at the chance to come back. I’ll do everything I can to help, mate. Don’t you worry.”

  Jules agreed to meet him at a pub he had discovered in Inverness the following Friday. He asked Jim to bring a selection of Flick’s artwork along for him to look over. It was all set. They would meet at noon in Johnny Ray’s pub. Jim felt a rush of excitement at the thought of doing this for Felicity.

  ~~~~~

  On return from their walk, Jim filled Euan and Tara in on his plans to meet with Jules. Tara got quite giddy.

  “I can’t believe you know Julian Forster! The Julian Forster!” she squeaked. “He is so famous in Oz! His artwork is just…transcendent,” she announced, dreamily, to the two baffled looking men opposite her. She blushed, reminding Jim of how Felicity used to do the same, so easily. He smiled at the memory.

  “Aye well, whatever you say, Tara. I just know he likes to paint nice pictures!” Jim laughed. “And he sounds keen to help me out on the little mission.”

  ~~~~~

  Friday morning was thankfully dry, making the transportation of Flick’s paintings somewhat easier and less risky than anticipated. Jim and Euan loaded up the Land Rover with a selection of Flick’s canvases in a variety of sizes. They were mainly landscape paintings of scenes she had painted from memory following car and train journeys. Jim loved that about her. She looked out through the glass and saw the beauty out there in ways he could never do. She made even industrial landscapes beautiful. He loved that she painted from memory. She did set up her easel and paint what she saw before her, too, but her best works were taken from her mind’s eye. That way she could put her own interpretation into the colours and breathe life into the dullest of scenes. Each piece had a personality of its own. Each showed the untapped talent that Flick had quashed and hidden away from view for far too long.

  Tara and Euan hugged Jim as he prepared to leave. He was starting to feel the nervous energy building inside him.

  “Phew…I’m shaking like a leaf,” he informed the couple who stood with arms around each other.

  “You’ll be fine, Jim. Flick is very talented. Julian will see that right away,” Tara assured him.

  “Yeah and I bet he has loads of contacts. You need to get him on side, Jim.” Euan looked as nervous as Jim felt.

  “Don’t worry, bro, I intend to make something out of all this. I’ve got to. Wish me luck, guys.”

  “Oh, we certainly do, bro.” Euan turned to his girlfriend. “Come on, you. We’ve got the house to ourselves all day and I’m as randy as hell.” He picked Tara up and turned toward the cottage, carrying her caveman-like whilst she squealed.

  “Ever heard the phrase too much information, little brother?!” Jim called after him, laughing when Euan made a rude gesture with his middle finger.

  ~~~~~

  Jim arrived at the agreed meeting place right on time. His palms were sweating as he walked through the doors and scanned the pub for a sign of Julian. Someone waved frantically at him from a corner table. Jim didn’t recognise the man with the full beard until he got closer and realised it was, indeed, Julian Forster.

  “Jim, mate! Great to see you!” Julian grasped Jim in a manly bear hug, nearly knocking him off balance.

  Jim laughed. “Jules, good to see you, too. I almost didn’t recognise you.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be the fuzz, I guess?” Julian scratched at his hairy chin.
“I got sick of being all clean-shaven and proper so I thought, sod it, I’m going to grow a beard.”

  Jim pointed at his own chin. “Well, I can say nothing, mate.” They both laughed. The pair agreed that the need to be clean-shaven was not a necessity in this day and age.

  “What’s your poison, mate? I’ll get you a drink.” Julian headed for the bar as he spoke.

  “Ah, just a shandy, thanks. I’ve got to drive home after this.” Jim sat down at the table.

  Julian returned and placed the shandy in front of Jim. “So, you guys split, eh?” Julian looked saddened at the news. “Mind you, I have to be honest, mate. I always thought you were a bit of an odd couple.” Jim felt hurt at his words and it must have shown in his face. “No, no, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying there was anything wrong with either of you,” Julian backtracked. “No, it was just a…I don’t know…strange coupling. She was so ambitious and clean cut and you…well, you’re so laid back and…normal.”

  “Gee thanks. Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Jim took a large gulp of his shandy.

  “See, I don’t really get my point across with words. That’s why I’m not a writer like you.” Julian’s eyes betrayed the guilt he felt for what he had failed communicate. “I just felt that she kind of overshadowed you back then. You looked like you hated being at the gallery events. Am I wrong?”

  Jim paused for thought but conceded that he was quite correct in his assumptions. “Nah, I used to hate those things. But I loved her, Jules. I would have done anything for her, you know? Still would and that’s my downfall. She’s my weakness. I think I’d forgotten that until I saw her again and I mucked it up.” He rubbed his hands over his face.

  “So now you’re trying to win her back?” Julian asked.

  “Well, I don’t really know what I’m trying to do, to be honest. Things didn’t end very well when she left to go back home, and I seem to have misread all the signals. I just…I want her to be happy. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  “And you think that getting someone to display her work is a way to do that?”

  “Jules, when you see the paintings, I think you’ll agree that she can’t just leave her talent behind. It’s like she’s lost sight of who she really is. If I’m honest, I want the girl I fell in love with. And that was the Flick who paints amazing, heartfelt pieces of stunning artwork. Not the woman who jet sets all over the world discovering other artists and selling their work, no disrespect, mate. I wouldn’t mind but she absolutely hates flying.” Jim looked pleadingly into Julian’s eyes. “I want my Flick back, Jules. I at least want to try, and then even if it doesn’t work out I know that I’ve done everything I can.”

  Julian nodded, but then after a pause he huffed a long drawn out breath, as is preparing to deliver bad news. “But, Jim, what if she doesn’t want to be that person anymore? What if she is angry at you for doing this?”

  He looked directly into Julian’s eyes. “It’s a chance I have to take.” His resolve was firm.

  “Right then, mate, let’s have a look at these paintings!” Julian clapped his hands together and stood with determination.

  ~~~~~

  The two men stood in the car park looking at the artwork in the back of the Land Rover like they were doing some dodgy, underhanded deal. Jim glanced around nervously hoping that some passer-by didn’t see them and call the police.

  “Bloody hell, Jim.” Julian gasped. “I can see what you mean.” He shook his head. “This girl is wasting an amazing bloody talent!”

  Jim let out a huge sigh of relief. He wasn’t aware until that point that he had been holding his breath. “You think so?” He bit on his bottom lip and fidgeted, tying his fingers in knots.

  “Think so? I know so, mate.” A wide grin spread across Julian’s face. “And I know just the person to show them to.” His expression changed to one of concern. “The only trouble is our Felicity Johnston-Hart is well known throughout the art world. If her name is on them or on the exhibition everyone will know it’s her and she’ll find out what’s going on before we have time to finalise things.”

  “She never used to sign the fronts of her pieces. I think that was another sign of her feelings of inferiority. You’ll find her signatures are on the back.”

  “Well that’s a good start…so all we need to do is decide what name to put down for the artist presenting the exhibition.” Julian looked skyward as if the answers could be found up there.

  Jim’s brain whirred with ideas. A grin spread wide across his face.

  “Flick MacDuff,” was all he said.

  Chapter 18

  February 2012 - Three Years After the Break-up

  New York was cold. Flick hadn’t been prepared for quite how cold it would be. It was almost Valentine’s Day and she was in the Big Apple all alone.

  Again.

  Once she accepted the position at the New York gallery, Franco had insisted she fly out early. She had jumped at the chance to escape and get Jim out of her mind once and for all. The gallery was looking amazing, and she had settled in okay since making the journey at the beginning of the month to begin her new position. The only problem was: the getting Jim out of her mind part wasn’t quite working.

  She had hoped and prayed that he would turn up on her doorstep demanding that she stay with him. She knew it was unrealistic to wish for such things. But a girl could dream. It never happened and so with more than a little trepidation she accepted the role and decided this had to be a fresh start.

  The first couple of days in the big city had been a blur of finding her bearings and meeting her new staff. Everyone had been lovely but a little cautious to begin with. She understood their reticence at welcoming her as Chester’s replacement but did her best to be friendly and approachable. Yet here she sat, at her paperwork covered desk wishing she had a romantic evening to look forward to.

  “Hey, Felicity. You look deep in thought there.” A female voice dragged her from her sadness. She smiled as she turned toward Lia, her personal assistant—formerly Chester’s personal assistant. She was a strikingly beautiful brunette with a figure that most women would give their eyeteeth for. And the annoying thing was she was kind of sweet, too. “Penny for them?” Lia cocked her head to one side, smiling.

  “Oh, I was just depressing myself with the fact that I’m once again in New York for Valentine’s Day and I’m totally alone.” Felicity sighed. She shook her head as if to rid herself of the melancholy. “Oh, pay no attention to me. I’m just being a sissy.” She forced a laugh.

  “Not at all. It must be hard being away from your husband.” Lia looked sympathetic.

  “Ah…well…I’m actually divorced from…the love of my life,” Felicity mumbled her reply. Lia looked shocked.

  Understandably so.

  She pulled her lips in between her teeth and frowned. “If you don’t mind my asking…if he’s the love of your life how come you’re divorced?” Lia’s confused expression was no surprise to Felicity.

  She rolled her eyes. “Long story. Too long and drudgy to bore someone I hardly know with it.” Felicity turned back toward the paperwork she had been staring at earlier. Not working on, just staring at.

  “Well, why don’t we remedy that? How do you feel about going for a drink across the street after work with me? I usually meet some friends there, but they’re out of town for Valentine’s, go figure. So it’d just be me and you. We could work on that someone-you-hardly know issue.” She smiled warmly. Felicity looked to her again. She turned her eyes to the ceiling as if trying to work out if she were free. Who was she kidding? She was nothing but free.

  “Okay. Thanks, Lia. That would be lovely.”

  “Great! Shall I come get you at six thirty? I know you tend to work way past five and I have some stuff I need to get finished too, so…”

  “Yes…although it may be a little after that. It’s four now and I have lots of things to work through. The acquisitions paperwork has been left in a bit of a sta
te.” She huffed, rubbing her eyes.

  Lia cringed. “Is it that bad?” She looked uneasy. “Can I help with anything?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is that bad and no, thank you…I need to get this done myself. The figures are just not adding up, and I need to call Franco with a full report by the end of the week. Lucky me, eh?”

  “Okay…well if you need anything…even if it’s a coffee, just holler.” Lia smiled warmly.

  “That’s really kind, Lia. Thank you.”

  ~~~~~

  Right on cue at six thirty, Lia came back to Felicity’s office and tapped on the door. “You ready yet?”

  “Hi. Almost. Give me fifteen more minutes…make it twenty.” It was Felicity’s turn to cringe. “Oooh, I’m sorry, Lia it may be more like twenty five.”

  “Hey, don’t worry. I’m all done for today, but I have my eReader. I’m reading a really good book.” She held her hand up in a dramatic gesture to talk behind it. “It’s a little steamy, if you know what I mean. The lead male is sooo hot. Scottish and tattooed. Plus he’s a little rugged and has a potty mouth.” She sniggered. “So I think I’ll just sit in the break room and wait on you.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

  Scottish and rugged, eh? Go figure.

  Mick’s bar was beginning to fill up when they arrived at seven. Despite its name the establishment was quite upmarket and was viewed as one of the places to be seen around the city. Lia waved to the bartender to get his attention and he came right over.

  “Hey, Steve. This is Felicity. She’s British. It’s her first time here at Mick’s.” Lia bombarded the man with useless information. He turned to Felicity and his smiled broadened. He had a look of Joey from the series Friends, and she half expected him to raise an eyebrow and feed her the line the character was most was most famous for. Instead and much to Felicity’s disappointment, he lifted his chin in a move of acknowledgement.

  “Hey British. What’s your poison?”

  Felicity felt her cheeks heat. “Oh…Jack and Coke?” She had no clue what to order and for some reason Jim’s favourite drink was what sprang to mind.