Chapter Thirteen #2
‘But you moved house, that must have been a difficult decision to make when it was so personal.’
‘That’s true, but it felt right, so I didn’t try to talk myself out of it. I knew it was a step into the future, rather than staying in the past.’ She said nothing about the name of Hope Hall instilling in her a sense of optimism for her new future.
‘And has it worked?’
‘Yes and no,’ she said, and before she was expected to elaborate on this, a young girl appeared with their food. She hated talking about herself, so was glad of the distraction.
When the girl had gone, Nina said, ‘You know, you’ve never really explained why you’re here in Cambridge when you could be anywhere in the world doing a far more—’
‘Don’t say it!’ he interrupted and with a shake of his head.
‘Don’t say what?’
‘That I could be doing something far more important, or more ambitious. That I shouldn’t be settling for what others might think is a cooshy set-up. That’s what my parents think, anyway.’
‘Cooshy?’ she repeated.
‘Soft. Easy. An easy option.’
She smiled. ‘I think you might mean cushy. But cooshy does have a certain ring to it. That,’ she went on, helping herself to a sticky chicken wing, ‘must be the only time I’ve ever heard you mispronounce something.’
‘You see, that is why I have to be here, to perfect my English!’
‘Nonsense,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Your English is excellent already. But I’m still curious. Why are you working in a small provincial gallery. Why not London? Or is there a girlfriend here? It’s none of my business, I know, and as your employer I really shouldn’t be asking you that.’
‘I’m fine with it. But no. There’s no girlfriend. There was when I was in London, but that didn’t work out. I came here for a fresh start and it’s somewhere I feel at home. As strange as it sounds, Cambridge reminds me of Oslo. Obviously without the sea,’ he added with a smile. ‘And the snow.’
‘You wait for when we do have a really bitterly cold, bone-numbing winter, you’ll know all about it then.’
‘I look forward to it, it will make me feel even more at home.’
‘You plan to stay then?’
‘If you’ll have me, yes. Or do you want me to leave?’
‘Absolutely not. You’re an invaluable part of Lavelle’s now.’
‘That’s good to know,’ he said with a nod.
‘It’s just that with your qualifications and ability you could do—’
He interrupted her again. ‘So much better for myself,’ he finished for her while wagging the remains of a chicken wing at her. He hadn’t bothered with cutlery, and she wished she’d done the same, instead of messing about with a knife and fork. ‘But would I be happy?’
‘Only you can know the answer to that.’
‘I am happy. Very happy. I like being a part of Lavelle’s and I enjoy learning from you. You’re a good teacher.’
‘And you’re a quick learner, and as you said this afternoon, we work well together.’
‘So you wouldn’t feel it was rude of me to propose an idea I’ve been thinking about for the gallery?’
Dispensing with the knife and fork, she picked up a chicken wing with her fingers. ‘Go on,’ she said, intrigued.
‘I was wondering if you might consider exhibiting a few paintings by Norwegian artists.’
‘Contemporary artists?’
‘Not exclusively. In Scandinavian art there is a very particular way the light shines out from a picture; to me it always seems brighter and fresher. In European art, the light is almost subdued in comparison.’
Her interest piqued, she said, ‘I know what you mean. I was in a gallery in Helsinki some years ago and I was struck in exactly the way you’ve just described by the use of light in the paintings I saw.’
‘Does that mean you might consider my proposal? My business proposal,’ he added quickly.
‘I think it’s certainly something we should look into,’ she said, ‘For now, why don’t you do some research for me and come up with a list of artists whose work might fit in with the Lavelle’s brand?’
‘The brand which is classical rather than what-the-hell-is-that?’ he said. ‘You see, the Boss has taught me well.’
‘Indeed she has,’ said Nina, wiping her hands on a paper napkin, then sipping her wine and thinking that she was glad she’d agreed to have a drink with Jakob.
She felt stupid for feeling guilty about accepting his invitation.
What an idiot she’d been! She really needed to get a grip on her emotions.
Obviously, his only reason for suggesting they do this was so he could put forward his idea for her consideration in a convivial setting.
But fair play to him, she strongly approved of anyone with initiative and who was prepared to seize an opportunity.
Perhaps it was because she was now fully relaxed, and on familiar firm ground talking about work, she found herself letting down her guard and telling Jakob about the family wedding she’d been invited to in a few weeks.
‘When I say family, I mean my husband’s family,’ she explained, ‘it’s one of Hugh’s many cousins getting married. ’
‘That’s nice,’ Jakob remarked, ‘that they continue to include you in their family occasions.’
‘It is, but at the same time I can’t help but think they only invite me out of pity.’
‘I can’t believe that’s true.’
‘Maybe not, but it’s what I feel when I’m amongst them.’
‘Then you need to find a way to stop that feeling happening. Why don’t you take a plus-one, somebody who is there not so much to hold your hand, which you certainly don’t need, but to be on Team Nina?’
‘The look of horror on my mother-in-law’s face would be priceless,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Would she really be so shocked to see you with somebody else now?’
‘She’d be outraged; in her eyes nobody could ever replace her son.’
‘What about in your eyes?’
The question was so unexpected and direct, and hit a nerve so powerfully, Nina wasn’t sure how to answer.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised when seconds passed and she hadn’t spoken, ‘perhaps that was too blunt of me.’
‘It’s a reasonable enough question,’ she said, ‘and part of me thinks that I have to look to the future and what I want for my life, but it’s … ’
‘Hard to let go of what you once had?’ he offered.
‘Yes. I know full well that Hugh has gone and that I owe it to him to be happy again.’
‘You owe it to yourself too, don’t forget.’
She frowned. ‘For one so young, you’re very wise.’
‘I’m not so young,’ he refuted, ‘I’m thirty-two.’
‘Wow, as old as that!’
‘Now you’re making fun of me. But back to the subject of this wedding, is there a male friend who could go with you?’
She shook her head. ‘Everyone I know is partnered up.’
‘I’m not. I could be your plus-one?’
Nina had a sudden mental picture of Hilary’s jaw dropping to the floor at the sight of Jakob walking in with her and how the rest of the family might react.
Before she’d even processed the thought, and as if reading her mind, Jakob said, ‘Wouldn’t it be just a little bit satisfying to shock your mother-in-law into seeing you as a person in your own right?’
No, thought Nina, she’d probably think I’d gone mad and accuse me of embarrassing her and everyone else by showing up with someone so much younger than I am.
‘But who would look after the gallery if you came with me?’ she said without answering Jakob’s question.
Which meant she was considering the idea, she thought later when after a tussle over the bill – a tussle which she won, overruling his claim that it was his idea to come here – Jakob insisted on walking her back to her car.
‘There’s no need,’ she said as they set off down Mill Lane.
‘Just as there was no need for you to pay the bill,’ he countered.
It was dark now but there were still plenty of people about in the illuminated streets, and plenty of good-humoured carousing going on too as people spilled out of pubs and restaurants. Kings College Chapel was looking particularly magnificent, with a silvery-bright moon high above it.
In contrast, when they turned into Lower All Saints Lane it was completely deserted and once again, despite complaints to the council, the streetlights weren’t working.
‘Here, take my arm,’ Jakob said as they entered the darkness.
It was a wholly natural thing for anyone to say, and after a slight hesitation, she did as he said and at the feel of his arm against hers, she once more pictured Hilary’s face if she showed up to the wedding with Jakob. Would it be so bad of her to do it?
Wouldn’t it, as Jakob had said, show Hugh’s family that she wasn’t just Hugh’s grieving widow? She was Nina Lavelle, a woman in her own right.