Chapter 25 #2
‘So how come it’s still on display?’ Frank might act the playboy but there was clearly an astute mind behind the facade and he’d picked up that something was going on.
‘Oh, darling,’ Gabby said, looking up at him under her lashes. ‘You of all people know how this works. Sometimes, one receives an offer they just can’t turn down.’ She offered an innocent look, all raised brows and big eyes, which was anything but. And Frank knew it.
‘Nicely played, Gabs. OK, so show me the ones I am allowed to buy.’
‘Bien sur! With pleasure. Shall we get another drink on the way?’
Sash was watching, adoration clear on her face.
‘She’s amazing!’ she breathed when they were out of earshot.
Tomas nodded.
‘I can see why you asked her to be your agent,’ my daughter continued.
His laugh surprised both of us, and the serious expression transformed back into the one I’d been used to. Older, a few more lines but no less handsome for that. Perhaps even more so. ‘I wish I could claim that honour.’
‘I don’t understand. I thought Gabby was your agent.’ Sash looked at me for confirmation and we both looked back at Tomas.
‘She is, and for that I am enormously grateful but her taking that position was most certainly nothing to do with me. Having taken over the running of the vineyard—’
‘Gabby runs the vineyard?’
‘Not now. She used to, once it was obvious that it was not my forte. Now it’s run by my godson, Benoit.
’ He peered over the heads of the assembled guests, taller than many of them.
‘He should be here anytime.’ Turning back to us, he continued.
‘Once Gabby took over the vinery, she told me to go and paint. I already felt a bit of a failure, so to me, this didn’t seem the best idea. ’
‘Why not?’ Sasha asked, forgetting for a moment that she’d yet to forgive him.
‘Honestly?’ he asked her.
Caught up in the story, she nodded, urging him on.
‘At the time, it just felt like something else I could fail at.’
‘But Gabby believed in you.’
He smiled down at my daughter. ‘She did. I’m extremely lucky in that respect. My sister has always had more confidence in my abilities than I have.’
‘And now?’
‘Now?’
Sasha indicated the swanky surroundings, the rich and beautiful drifting around, admiring the artwork. You could almost smell the wealth.
‘Now I feel very fortunate to be in this position but there are still days when I feel like I’ll never sell another painting.’
‘Imposter syndrome.’
‘Exactly,’ he replied, his focus on her entirely.
‘Well, I don’t think you need…’ Her words tailed off as her jaw dropped open. Suddenly, she snapped it shut and took a step closer so that we were now in a little huddle. ‘Is that Timothée Chalamet?’ Her voice was an almost inaudible squeak of excitement.
‘Possibly, I—’ Tomas began to turn his head and received a punch on the biceps.
‘Don’t look!’ Sash whispered sharply.
Tomas scratched his jaw, attempting to cover the smile that was threatening to break on his face.
His eyes cut to me and I gave the tiniest shake of my head.
If he laughed, I was lost. Why is everything funnier when you’re supposed to be on your best behaviour?
At least we weren’t in church. Not that that hadn’t happened before.
‘It’s a little difficult to answer the question without looking,’ he replied.
‘To my left,’ she whispered and Tomas shifted his weight in order to change position as naturally as possible whilst getting a good viewing angle.
‘Ah. Yes, it is. He did say he might attend if he was able. I believe he’s shooting a film here at the moment.’
As he spoke, the A-lister raised his gaze, saw Tomas and waved. Excusing himself from the couple he’d been talking to, he headed our way.
‘OhmyGod. He’s coming over!’ Sash’s voice was practically now only audible to dogs.
‘Tomas! Good to see you, man.’ The two men embraced with the requisite back slapping.
‘And you, Timothée.’
Sash turned to me, eyes as wide as the plates the canapés were being circulated on.
‘How’s the filming?’
‘Great, thanks. And thanks again for the invitation. You know I love your work. Anything left?’ He laughed, self-deprecating.
‘One or two,’ Tomas teased, the banter appearing natural.
I wondered if he may have just gone up a notch or two in Sash’s opinion.
‘Timothée, may I introduce a couple of special guests here tonight.’
Sash looked like she might pass out. The actor had been one of her favourites, and her biggest crush for years.
‘Kitty Collins, a very dear friend from university days.’
‘Good to meet you,’ he said, leaning in for the traditional ‘la bise’ greeting of kissing both cheeks.
‘And you,’ I replied.
‘And this is Sasha, Kitty’s daughter.’
‘Pleasure,’ Timothée said, hitting Sash with a smile that I was pretty sure she’d remember for a lifetime.
‘Hi,’ she replied, nearly dying when she too received a kiss on both cheeks.
‘British?’ he asked her.
‘Yep!’ she replied. Her exquisitely applied make-up hid the flush on her cheeks but I saw a brief reddening of her décolletage that told me she was already berating herself for not parrying back with something she considered far more clever and suave.
‘Great accent,’ he continued.
‘Kitty and Sasha have just moved to Paris.’
‘Oh, wow.’ Timothée’s eyes flicked to me but quickly settled back on Sash. ‘That’s so cool. I love Paris. Always have.’
‘Me too,’ Sash replied, her colour settling a little more now.
‘And this guy captures it like no one else. I always end up buying at least one painting even when I tell myself I have enough art.’
‘Can one ever have enough art?’ Sash asked.
He regarded her for a moment. ‘That is a very good point. Probably not. Thanks for reminding me.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She flashed the wide smile she’d always been a little self-conscious of. It was something she’d inherited from me. I hoped in time she’d see it as beautiful as it truly was. Tomas had once told me that my smile was the reason he’d first fallen in love with me.
A tall, very slim, ridiculously chic woman appeared at Timothée’s shoulder, from the body language, I assumed an assistant rather than a girlfriend. He sensed her and turned.
‘Hey.’
She gave us all a brief, very tight smile. It was hard to tell her age, or her expression. Nothing really moved on her face. It was oddly captivating and I unnecessarily adjusted my bracelet in order to drag my eyes away.
‘I’m going to go and take a look at the exhibition. See if there’s anything good left to buy,’ he said, giving Tomas a gentle slap on the upper arm as he did so.
‘Probably not.’
Timothée laughed and raised a hand as we smiled our goodbyes. He began to turn then looked back at us and leant in towards me.
‘OK, so we all need to be so careful about what and who we say stuff to these days in case it gets taken the wrong way or out of context but,’ his gaze flicked to Sasha and lingered for a few moments, ‘can I just say that your daughter has a beautiful smile.’
‘Thank you. I think so too,’ I said, turning towards my beautiful daughter, who looked like she might float up to the ceiling like a helium balloon let loose by a toddler.
‘Thank you,’ she repeated and then casually turned back to us, careful not to look gauche in staring after him.
For a moment, we stood in silence. Not awkward like before. An unspoken agreement between Tomas and me told us to remain silent.
‘Oh my Goddddd!’ Sash squeaked out in a high-C whisper. ‘That was…’ She was practically vibrating on the spot.
‘Cool?’ I offered.
‘Soooo cool!’ Sash continued. ‘No one is ever going to believe I met him!’
I could see the cogs in Tomas’s mind whirring.
‘How long have you known him?’
‘Quite a few years now. He bought a painting from my first-ever exhibition. How Gabby got him to attend, I have no idea. I know better than to question the expertise and talent of my sister. As I said, I am just thankful. I’d probably still be painting in a shed at the end of her garden if she hadn’t – how do you say – put a rocket up my arse. ’
Champagne sprayed out of my mouth and as I clamped my lips together, it quickly changed direction and exited via my nose instead.
Automatically, I shifted towards Tomas, his large bulk hiding my faux pas from the rest of the room.
My daughter, however, was already well into the process of disowning me.
‘Mum!’
Had I even done my job right if I didn’t mortify my offspring from time to time?
Tomas, laughing himself now, handed me a perfectly pressed linen handkerchief and I mopped up as gracefully as I could, although that ship had long sailed and was likely shipwrecked by now.
‘My fault.’ Tomas placed his hand on his chest, that sexy grin completely transforming his features.
I shook my head, still finding it more amusing than my daughter.
We locked eyes and he gave a tiny wink. The little shit!
How many times had he pulled the same trick back then?
Waiting until Gabby or I had a mouthful to say something funny, or outrageous, just to get us to cough and splutter our drinks.
Of course, back then, it wasn’t champagne dripping off our chins.
The two of them may have come from a wealthy family but they never acted in the superior manner of their mother.
Perhaps they were more like their father.
It had been hard to tell as I’d only met him that once and he’d barely spoken, or had had a chance to speak.
Gabby once told me that he preferred a quiet life and therefore found it easier to give his wife free rein than argue.
He’d offer his opinion but more often than not, it had been either overruled or disregarded entirely.
It had maddened Gabby but I’d seen that day how perhaps Tomas took after his father more than any of us had realised.
I wondered how much of that aspect had changed over the years.
‘Definitely your fault!’ I couldn’t stop the smile.