Chapter 14
Gareth headed straight to the kitchen to find himself a drink while Opal led the trio up the main staircase and turned left, towards the eastern wing. There were four rooms overlooking the grounds and one facing the gravel drive at the front of the house.
‘The two at the end of the corridor are the largest, and they have their own bathroom,’ Opal explained. ‘The other three will need to share a bathroom, so maybe the boys should go in those?’
‘Are there more of us to come?’ Adam’s voice was so deep and soft that Opal had to strain to hear him.
‘Yes! Two more, so there will be five of you in total. As well as your rooms I’ve also set up a studio area for you, Adam, and for Heather, who is coming later.
Johan … I’m sorry Jojo, I’ve turned one of the outhouses into a makeshift darkroom, and Ruby …
’ Opal trailed off. She worried she was speaking too quickly, or maybe at too high a pitch?
She took a deep breath, regaining her confidence.
‘Ruby, you’re more than welcome to work wherever you like.
I’d like you to treat Fairfax as your home, and feel free to roam wherever you wish. ’
‘What’s your bedroom like?’ Ruby’s expression was deadpan, but Opal sensed a challenge in her tone.
‘Um well, you’re more than welcome to have a look at the master.
It’s right at the other end of the hall.
Of course, you understand that my husband deserves his privacy, but um …
well my room is right here.’ She gestured vaguely at the guest bedroom door and then immediately regretted having revealed so much about herself.
A satisfied smile flashed across Ruby’s face. Opal was getting the same feeling she had from that group of blondes at university. As though she was being prodded for sport.
‘You and your husband don’t sleep together?’ Ruby raised a single, devastating eyebrow. She should feel ashamed for asking such a personal question. But it was Opal who felt her cheeks burn. Johan stifled a laugh, and Adam looked down at his clasped hands.
‘I … um … no, we don’t, not recently.’ Opal hadn’t even told Debbie that she’d started sleeping in the guest room, although she had probably guessed. Suddenly, though, having been cornered into an honest response, Opal felt lighter.
‘Interesting.’ Ruby shrugged, suddenly uninterested in her prey now that it had stopped fighting for its life. ‘I guess when you have as much room as this …’
Opal plastered on a bright smile. She had tried not to set herself up for disappointment by keeping her expectations of this experiment in check, but she realised now that she had assumed that these artists would be grateful. Maybe not kissing her feet, but at least visibly happy to be there.
‘Do you want to take this one then, Ruby?’ It wasn’t really a question. Opal picked up the scruffy backpack at Ruby’s feet and strode towards the door at the end of the corridor. She was relieved to hear footsteps following.
The room was big, with a heavy oak desk nestled in the alcove of large bay windows overlooking the lawn. In the middle of the room, the four-poster bed was draped with lavender gauze, which matched both the bedding and the wallpaper.
‘I hope you’ll be comfortable here.’ Opal placed the bag on the bed and busied herself plumping the purple pillow on a large cream armchair.
Ruby’s expression was blank. Adam and Johan stood awkwardly in the doorway.
‘It’s very matchy-matchy, isn’t it.’ Ruby walked to the far end of the room and poked her head into the bathroom. ‘Bath is wicked, though.’
For a second Opal relished the hint of enthusiasm in Ruby’s voice.
But then: ‘Can I smoke in here?’
Opal was deflated again.
‘I’d rather you didn’t. The smoke really clings to the drapes you see and—’
Ruby cut Opal off. ‘Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll go outside …’ Ruby seemed to be wrestling with herself as to whether she should continue, and then she did. ‘I’ll have to have a spliff or two in that bath, though. I’m sure you get it.’
Opal had only ever tried to smoke pot once.
It had been at Gareth’s behest, sometime early in their friendship.
She had practically coughed up a lung, and she’d not been tempted to try again since.
Opal felt that somehow Ruby could sense this.
As with the bedroom questions earlier, Ruby had a nose for weakness.
‘Sure, just keep the window open, if that’s OK?’ Opal became aware that she was wringing her hands, and vowed to keep them sternly at her sides. Before Ruby could protest, she turned on her heel and marched out. Adam and Johan duly followed.
Their inductions went far more smoothly.
Both thanked her politely when she showed them their rooms, even though they were both far less grand than Ruby’s.
Opal left them all, saying, ‘Settle in and unpack before coming down for dinner.’ As she walked down the stairs, she took a shaky breath.
She momentarily entertained the possibility that she was making a terrible mistake.
‘Opal darling, whatever is the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ Gareth was standing by the French doors, when Opal walked into what Martin insisted on calling the drawing room.
Most of the furniture was more ornamental than functional.
A pair of spindly-legged, paisley-printed armchairs faced a fussy cream and magenta-patterned chaise.
The coffee table between them was large and low to the ground.
The mantelpiece was topped with their wedding photo and a garishly yellow-gold trophy Martin had won at his golf club’s yearly members tournament.
With the backdrop of the vast pea green lawn behind him, Gareth was holding a drink in each hand. One was far less full than the other. Opal reached for it, on autopilot. He handed it over. ‘Whatever it is, a Harvey Wallbanger always helps.’
Opal collapsed onto the chaise. ‘That Ruby, she’s …’ Opal paused to take a sip and Gareth finished her sentence.
‘Bristly?’
‘To put it mildly! She’s already skewered the state of my marriage and my taste in interiors. She’s only been in the house for about fifteen bloody minutes.’
Gareth rolled his eyes and sat down beside Opal.
‘She’s a punk poet, darling, what do you expect?
Her entire practice is essentially about rejection.
She might as well call herself a professional bitch; that’s the whole schtick.
Although I suspect she’d rather define herself as an anarchist or a Marxist or some such thing. ’
Opal nodded. He was right – this whole thing was supposed to be about challenging herself, getting out of her comfort zone.
‘Anyway, what’s for dinner?’ Gareth knocked back the rest of his drink and eyed her expectantly.
‘I bought a dozen or so chicken Kyivs from the butcher, and then I thought I’d boil some potatoes up and serve it with peas?’ Opal was used to hosting, but for some reason she had agonised over what to serve for the inaugural dinner for days. She hoped Gareth might offer some reassurance.
‘I guess we’ll just have to hope that none of them are vegetarian.’
The blood must have drained from her face again, because Gareth added, ‘Oh, Opal, sorry I was just joking. I’ m sure it’ll be grand!’
‘God, I didn’t even think of that! How silly of me. I invite five strangers into my home for dinner, all of them most likely progressive artists, and it doesn’t even occur to me that one of them is a vegetarian. When did I become so parochial?’
‘Wait, five?’ Gareth’s brow furrowed.
Opal doubted herself for a moment. When had she become so unsure of herself?
Her whole life she’d thought of herself as headstrong but composed, and as the years had passed she’d only grown more self-assured.
Until that afternoon. And from the morning after when she had obsessed over the texture of her thighs for the first time since she was in her teens, she’d been knocked off course.
Now she was second-guessing every move, every decision, every memory of herself that she had.
‘Yes, five, Ruby, Heather, Adam, Noah …’
‘Noah? Who’s Noah?’
‘Noah! The scent artist? And musician or something. You’ve seen his work before; he’s a performer I think …’
Gareth looked confused, and then sceptical. ‘Doesn’t sound like you much know who he is either. So he’s a performance artist?’
Opal was growing frustrated. ‘Sort of. I don’t know, I guess I’ll find out, but he told me that you’ve seen his work multiple times.’
‘Well I’m sorry, darling, but I have absolutely no idea who you’re talking about. Never met a Noah in my life.’ Gareth stood up and wandered off towards the kitchen. As his words sank in, Opal began to panic. This imposter was meant to be arriving any minute, and she had no idea who he was.
‘Gareth!’ Opal trotted after him. He’d already started pouring the orange juice into a cocktail shaker. ‘He expressly said in his letter that he knew you and that you had seen his work. I assumed it was you who gave him my address and all the details.’
‘I don’t know what to tell you; I didn’t.’ Gareth seemed nonplussed. He unscrewed the top off the bottle of Galliano.
As if on cue, a knock came clamouring down the hall from the front door. Opal froze. Gareth began to pump the shaker in his hand. ‘Are you going to answer it? I’m rather intrigued by this mysterious character now.’
Heather wasn’t due to arrive at the station until around ten o’clock, the train journey from Glasgow being as long as it was, and Noah had said he would arrive in time for dinner …
Opal shot Gareth one last look. ‘Maybe I should call the police or something?’
‘Oh don’t be ridiculous. Go and at least suss the man out before you turf him over to the Old Bill. Who knows, maybe this is fate?’ Gareth refilled his glass.
Opal hoped Gareth might at least offer to come with her. He didn’t. She got the impression that he was trying to coax her back into her fearless self. ‘Go on, he’ll be waiting.’
Opal steeled herself as she turned the key in its lock. Click. And as she pulled the door open, standing in front of her, with an impish smile on his face, was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.