Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Ed
"Balls," says Jeanette and stands, hands gripping her hair.
Lutek's face is hidden behind his hands. He peers out at us from between his fingers.
"We're well and truly done for, aren't we?" adds Jeanette.
"What? Why?" says Elly. "How have you all got hang dog looks? This is the magic solution we've been looking for."
I've already started pacing. "It's fraudulent art, Elly. We can't sell fraudulent art. Especially not for ridiculous amounts of money. It's unethical and most crucially, illegal."
"Oh." Elly's eyes are wide and flick between all of us in the room. "Shit. Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that."
"So what do we do?" asks Lutek.
"I'm not sure there's anything we can do, except try and dissuade her," I answer. "The auction's already started."
"We're not going to dissuade her," says Elly. "Didn't you hear her say it's already past two hundred thousand pounds? It has the potential to get way higher than that. She's not going to miss this opportunity if it means she can buy out that jackass."
"Then, we have no choice but to tell her the truth so she can decide what happens next," I say and really wish my life was literally anybody's – Volodymyr Zelensky's – but mine right now. "Oh God. I am so not ready for that. I don't think I ever will be."
"Or we don't try and we also don't tell her the truth," says Elly. "Like, ever."
"I don't think I can do that," says Lutek.
"No," I say. "There's no way I'm carrying on this deception longer than I have to. Even if I currently lack the courage to do just that."
"I think telling her is the right thing to do," says Lutek. "She might be alright with it, but if not, that's okay."
"Except we all lose this chance to secure a future for us in Port Derrum," says Elly.
"It was always going to be a long shot, anyway," I say, then really wish I hadn't.
Elly points a finger at me. "Don't you dare talk like that. You don't have the right to be defeatist about what happens to this community, seeing you're barely a member of it."
I flinch at her not unfair accusation.
"Elly, Ed, my loves," says Jeanette. "Helpful things only. Please."
"Okay," says Elly. "How's this? One: The auction might get to silly money.
Like a million pounds. More than a million pounds.
Would you be willing to die with the secret then?
I know I would. And two: She'll one hundred percent be up for it.
Hashtag whatever it takes, remember? I vote we don't tell her and carry on. "
Carlos says, "What are her skills at pretence?"
"What?" says Elly.
"All good agents are master actors. Has she got the chops to keep up a pretence?"
"You mean," I venture, "if we tell her and she decides to carry on?"
"Awful," says Lutek. "I saw her in a grammar school musical once." He grimaces. "It's terrible to say, but she must have only got the lead role due to her singing abilities."
"That's no good," says Elly. "She has to be authentic in front of the camera, or her TikTok viewers will pick it up in a heartbeat. I'm still voting don't tell her."
"I vote we do," says Lutek. "We have to."
"Carlos?" asks Jeanette.
Carlos smooths down his moustaches. "Don't tell her. She's made of strong stuff and what's a bit of illegal activity to a gal with that kind of metal? We've all done it."
"Not several hundred thousand pounds-worth of fraud, we haven't," I point out.
"Speak for yourself, dear boy."
"Jeanette?" asks Elly.
Jeanette paces and rings her hands. "I don't know. I don't want us or Bess to go to jail, but I also really want certainty about the future. For all of us." She stops and gives her hands a shake, flexing her fingers. "I'll go with the majority."
That leaves me, then. They all turn to look at me.
I know what I should vote. Bess should absolutely be completely aware of what she's risking. But it might mean exposing me. It might mean the end of everything.
Well. 'My friendship with Bess' everything.
And I think, deep down, not only am I a total coward, I might also be quite selfish. Which also means I sit very firmly on the fence with Jeanette.
Footsteps approach the door to the workshop.
"Fuck," says Elly. "Quick. What's our decision?"
In that moment of pressurised panic, my wheeling, turning, flighty brain lands on something solid. "Wait. Say nothing," I say in a hurry. "I think I know of a sure-fire way out of this."
We scatter back to our workstations as Bess opens the door.