Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
brIGHTON
The Gallery
July 2006
‘Vic? Vic! Are you awake?’
Vic turned over in bed and groaned at the voice coming through her bedroom door. ‘What time is it?’ she answered sleepily.
‘Just after eight thirty. I’m going out to meet a potential new artist shortly, so if you could open up the gallery today, that would be really helpful.’
Vic sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘Bloody hell. Sorry, Danny. I’ve had the most amazing sleep for once.’
Danny knocked lightly and poked his head around the door. ‘See, I told you that the old “sea, air, sleep” mantra has something to it.’
Vic smiled and pushed her hands through her messy hair. ‘Excuse the bed head. I dreamt that Robbie Williams commissioned me to illustrate an album cover for him, and he would only accept payment of a sexual nature. ’
Danny laughed. ‘Lucky you. Anyway, I’ve got to run. See you later, mate.’
Vic yawned, got out of bed, threw open her bedroom window and delighted not only at the early sunshine streaming in and hitting her face, but also the indefatigable cries of seagulls soaring on the summer breeze. Quickly throwing on some clothes and tying her hair back in a high ponytail, she made herself a large mug of coffee and, with a spring in her step, headed downstairs.
Today was an exciting day for her, as it was the day that she was to set up the shop window purely with her work. She had wasted no time in getting her chosen pieces professionally framed. Danny had also kindly ordered in some smaller-sized new easels on which she could display them on the plinths.
Wedging the gallery door open to let in the warm summer breeze, she wished a ‘Happy Monday’ to a young guy walking past, and for the first time in a long time felt a sense of joy.
Danny was one of life’s good people, and despite the somewhat unconventional and unfortunate way they had met, she was truly glad that he was now in her life. After he had offered her the window display, he had also suggested that she get away from life as she knew it for as long as she needed and, after a couple of long, thinking walks along the river, and with encouragement from Jake, her decision to spend the summer in Brighton had been cemented.
She had received her deposit for the London flat back a lot quicker than she expected. The little furniture that she and Nate had accrued was second-hand and nothing special. Nate had already taken what was rightfully his, and she had agreed to leave the rest for the new tenant. So, after storing stuff back in her old bedroom in Windsor, with just a large suitcase, her portfolio of artwork and an invigorated sense of self, she had headed to the south coast. It had been sad to say goodbye to her still thankfully sober and much happier mother, but she had assured Kath that she was only just over an hour down the road, so she could go home and visit anytime.
She had insisted she pay Danny rent for the spare room in his apartment, which he had declined, saying that if she could cover him in the gallery for two days a week in the summer peak, he would be so grateful, and would consider it payment for her accommodation. And other than that, she could help him out as much or as little as she wished. Which still gave her the freedom to paint and to do whatever else she wanted. It was a perfect scenario. So, here she was now, in the centre of Brighton, in an established gallery, about to exhibit her work for the very first time in her life. She was just unpacking her box of newly framed artwork when a text beeped in.
Hey. Hope you’re good. Any chance I could come down and see you this Sunday? I really need to talk. Joti x
Vic sighed. Maybe Jake had at last spoken with her. Before she left, his procrastinating had not only become tedious, but had also got quite awkward. As it wasn’t her place to tell Joti the huge news, every time she spoke to her new-found friend, she had felt like she was harbouring a guilty secret. Which, in effect, she was. Without a second thought, she typed a speedy reply.
Of course! Nowhere to park. Easier to get train. Let me know which one you’re on & I’ll meet you at the station. Vx
Vic finished unwrapping her newly framed originals and began to set up the easels ready for her display. As previously instructed by Danny, she also gently dusted around every other item in the gallery, then walked out to the front to gauge how she would position her work. She was just heading through to the kitchen to make herself another coffee before placing her masterpieces when her mobile rang.
‘Sharpie, it’s me.’ Vic was sure Nate’s northern accent had got stronger since he had moved back to Cumbria.
‘Hey.’
‘Just wanted to say thanks so much for the deposit cheque from the flat. What a welcome surprise.’
‘No worries.’
‘So, how’s Brighton?’
‘Great, thanks. Just about to display my exhibit in the front window now.’
‘I’m so chuffed for you. It’s what you’ve always wanted. But it’s just a window, and if you come here, then – well, I’ve already spoken to a couple of people I know, and there are a few empty units to rent nearby that would make a great gallery just for you and your work.’
Vic sighed. ‘Like I said before, Nate, I want to get myself established here first and I’m not making you any promises. OK?’
‘I just miss you, that’s all. How about you come and stay here for a long weekend soon, just to see what it’s like?’ He paused. ‘No pressure, but I just know you’ll fall in love with the place. I mean, what’s not to like? It has beautiful scenery, lots of scrummy food – and me!’ He laughed.
Vic couldn’t match his enthusiasm. ‘Nate, I don’t know what I want at the moment – and I know that’s not what you want to hear but it’s where I’m at, I’m afraid.’
‘It just gets a bit lonely up here, that’s all.’
‘You’re not listening to me, Nate.’ Vic tried to shift the conversation. ‘But it sounds like you’ve fallen on your feet with your job, and that’s important.’
‘Is it… is it really?’ His voice softened. ‘Because you mean so much more to me than anything else.’
Vic put her hand to her heart. It seemed like the more she put Nate off, the more he wanted her there. Why was it that absence made the heart grow fonder? Why was human nature such that if you couldn’t have something, you began to want it more? Maybe living with someone was a bit like eating your favourite food over and over: you eventually got sick of it. That when something isn’t new, novel, or different, it commands less of your attention. No wonder people had affairs, then never left their partners. Perhaps they were thinking the grass would be greener, but in reality, on the other side of the fence the lawn was actually a bit patchy and in need of a good old sprinkling of fresh seed, too.
And maybe this was what real love felt like. Not an all-consuming ‘diamond love’ like that of Jake and Malini. But more like a chip-of-zirconium kind of love, which offered half the excitement but was not only far easier to insure but also wouldn’t hurt as much to lose.
But Vic was surging forward with her own life now, and despite selfishly hanging on to Nate for fear of being alone, upping sticks to the other end of the country just didn’t seem the right thing to be doing – not at this moment in time, anyway.
She heard a customer enter the gallery. ‘I’m sorry, Nate, I’ve got to go, but I’ll give you a call soon. I promise.’
With a reluctant ‘OK’ and a huge sigh, Nathaniel Carlisle hung up.
With the happy customer leaving with a moody-looking Constable print of Brighton Chain Pier, and Danny texting to say he wouldn’t be back until after lunch, Vic set about arranging her window.
There was space for a large painting in the centre and three around the edge of that. She’d had nine smaller illustrations framed and had decided that she would rotate these throughout the month. Thinking which would make the best display, she came to the decision that the prints of the book covers she had created for Jerico would look really cool together and show her range, plus would be a bit of advertising for his books. She could imagine him saying, ‘It’ll get me to at least two thousand in the Donkey Tales chart, once they see those.’
Then, to the big one in the middle. As she walked through to the back studio, a feeling of excitement surged through her belly as she started to remove the bubble wrap. She hadn’t seen it framed yet, and knew that the shade she had chosen for the frame would enhance the colours even further. She gasped as she saw it in its full glory. Even seeing her swirly trademark signature of Victoria S made her feel proud of what she was actually about to do. She propped it up on the easel in the middle of the room and grinned broadly. Who’d have thought the abstract she had created post-diagnosis would be the one that was going to be her first exhibit piece? She put her hand close to the glass and started to swirl it around in various huge virtual paint strokes. She had named it Fire & Blues.
Giving the glass of the framed book-cover prints a dust-off, she read aloud: ‘ Mr Pigeons and the Glasgow Kiss ,’ took a deep breath and suddenly felt sad. If Jerico hadn’t kissed her, then everything would be OK, wouldn’t it? But he had, and even when she was telling Ray that she had brushed it off as a tipsy kiss, she had realised it had been more than that. She had felt her toes curl. She had felt an electric current go through her. She had felt like a teenager again. Not dissimilar to what she had felt with Danny. But that had been lust and longing, and if she was honest with herself, in that moment of life-changing madness, she had also subconsciously sabotaged her relationship, in order to push herself to make a decision regarding Nate.
Jerico had messaged her the night of the kiss. Not apologising for it in any way, but saying sorry for rushing off. She had ignored his text. He had tried to call her a couple of days later, but not knowing how to deal with her emotions, she had stared at the phone as if it were some kind of alien, then had let out a little groan as it rang off. His last attempt at contacting her had been via text, after Ray had shared his latest book cover with him, as she had instructed. Unike with Nate’s, she’d been pleased that this message didn’t include a question mark. And trust Jerico to make sure that his reply didn’t pressurise her in any way either.
Dear Queen Victoria. Mr Pigeons and the donkeys are simply delighted with their new cover. Now, find what brings you joy and take yourself there.
Victoria was suddenly awash with a sense of sadness and regret. What a beautiful thing for Jerico to say. If she didn’t have HIV, maybe – just maybe – there would be a chance for them to make it work. Because she liked him, and he clearly liked her. But her shame was too great, and telling him was a risk that she was too frightened to take. For, despite only knowing this charming man such a short time, a life without Jerico Flint in it – in whatever capacity, and however difficult it may be – was something she was not prepared to take a chance on.
A while later, Danny came rushing through the front door. ‘Wow, wow, wow, Vic, the window looks fucking magnificent. I’m so happy you decided on your new one. I didn’t want to push you but it really is so, so special. Amazing! I hope you don’t mind, but when I change the window I get the local paper to do a little piece on the artist showing. I actually met my journalist mate for lunch so he can get it in this week’s. It just helps to bring in the business, and all of these certainly will. They’re all fab, Vic! He’s going to call for a quick chat in around an hour if that’s OK. Do you have any prints of them, as well as the originals?’
‘The books covers are just prints. The author kept the originals.’ Vic felt slightly overwhelmed. ‘I got fifty of each of them. But I wanted the main one to be a one-off.’
‘I agree. Someone will hang that in their home and people will be asking who painted it. I’m excited for you. And what price are you putting on them?’
‘I’ve no idea, Danny. This is all so alien to me.’
‘Well, I say put a thousand on the original abstract and two hundred and fifty each on the cover prints.’
‘That much?’ Vic’s eyes widened.
‘Vic, you’re good. Really good. I’ve seen a lot of artists come and go here. You are going to be a name. I just know it. Your work is incredible.’
Vic felt herself tingle from head to foot.
Danny smiled. ‘It really is. Now, sorry I’ve been so long. You must be starving. Go and have a break, and I’ll see you back here in an hour to talk to the journalist. OK?’