Artistic Licence (38 page)

Poppy Jacks extended her hand. ‘Hi! I think it’s terribly brave what you’re doing. Opening an art gallery against all the odds. Ben told me how much effort he’s put into it himself, just so it wasn’t a complete flop before it even opened.’

For the first time that evening, Thea found herself without a suitable soundbite, or indeed anything to say at all. Eventually she managed, ‘I’ve got a hundred people I must talk to. Ben, why don’t you show Poppy round?’

‘Who’s Ben with?’ demanded Molly. ‘I saw Rory working on Veronica. I must admit, when he chooses to use it, that man has the charm of the devil.’

‘And the cheekbones of an angel,’ said Magenta, scooping a glass of champagne off a passing tray. ‘I’ve got some fabulous shots. Must go. See you later.’

‘So?’ Molly hadn’t had her answer yet.

‘You could ask him yourself, but she’s called Poppy.’

‘So is she the one who did all the PR?’

‘You’re the one who knows all about Ben’s private life. Why don’t you go and get an update?’ Thea smiled to soften her crispness. ‘Now I must find Edward Grampian and make sure I’ve got his seal of approval.’

Molly found Thea a little later. ‘It’s not the PR woman. She’s that one over there, talking to Rory now.
Poppy’s just a popsy. Oh! I’ve made a pun. I think.’

‘We’re going now. It’s been a wonderful show.’ Ben kissed Thea’s cheek.

‘Yes,’ Poppy added. ‘It’s been such fun. Now we’re going to eat. Edward has taken Veronica on somewhere, so we’re off the leash.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Thea. ‘Are you eating in town? We’re all going to the Chinese Dragon, if you’d like to join us.’ Watching Ben flirting with Poppy all night would be torture. The thought that she might never see him again if she let him escape was even worse.

Poppy laughed. ‘Oh, no. Ben’s promised me something a little more sophisticated than we can get here.’

Thea’s jaw clamped down on the words ‘The Chinese Dragon is very sophisticated’. She was extremely tired and a sense of anticlimax threatened to overwhelm her. If she wasn’t careful she’d burst into tears in a very messy way.

‘Poppy doesn’t like Chinese food,’ said Ben.

Thea forced her mouth open. ‘So, what are you going to do instead?’ She wouldn’t have asked, but as Ben was just standing there, Poppy tugging on his arm, instead of getting the hell out, she had to say something.

‘Ben knows a little place near Chipping Norton.’ Poppy almost clapped her hands in anticipation. ‘Sounds wonderful!’

‘Sounds a long way away,’ said Thea.

‘So what are you going to do again?’ Ben asked.

Why was Ben was still there when, if he’d had an iota of tact, he would have left Thea to allow herself a
short, violent display of emotion? As it was, she had to keep up with the small talk. ‘I said the Chinese Dragon. Rory and I are going to get rat-arsed. I think we deserve it, don’t you?’

There was a flicker of something in Ben’s expression, but it was probably just shock that she’d used such a vulgar expression. He didn’t speak again, but steered his woman out of the gallery into the warm summer night.

There were nearly twenty of them in all at the Chinese Dragon, although they had only booked for twelve. Several of the party were drunk on Molly’s champagne. There were a few men who’d been at art school with Rory, a couple of journalists who, being young, now wanted to drink on and get to know the star, and several other men and girls Thea couldn’t connect with anyone. The Chinese Dragon was courteous and welcoming, and moved tables about, found chairs and chopsticks.

Thea didn’t sit next to Rory, although he invited her to. He was very excited, high on his success, which had been extraordinary by any standards. The art-buying public, most of whom had been at the show, had, in Thea’s opinion, lost their heads completely. Once the first red sticker went on, others followed, everyone desperate to get a piece of this exciting new talent, notwithstanding the enormous prices Thea and Rory had decided on. It was doubtful if most of the buyers really loved the pictures as Thea felt they should be loved, but they saw them as an investment. Not one of them objected when Thea told them that the paintings were possibly to be shown in London, and that they
might not be able to get their hands on their prize for months. This was after Edward had told her he still wanted Rory to exhibit and would she not let any of the work be taken away before he’d had a chance to decide what he wanted.

Rory would always be able to make his living from his work from now on, especially as the television producer he had met had been so impressed. Thea had met her too and had wondered if she should give a few hints that Rory might not be a great presenter. She decided against it. Rory could probably read an autocue and could be trained into being more relaxed in front of an audience.

Thea had no appetite. Her heart was thumping, she felt she had drunk twenty cups of strong coffee when all she’d had was the single glass of champagne that Rory thrust on her and several pints of mineral water. When people eventually began ordering, she just agreed to share a set menu someone else had decided was good.

Rory was the young lion, the centre of attention, charming the socks off everyone present. Thea was glad she wasn’t at his side. She didn’t want them to be seen as a couple. It wasn’t fair to him when he probably wanted a woman to end the evening with. No matter how charming he was, how appropriate their ending the evening together might have been, she wasn’t going to let him think anything like that would happen with her. But there were several other young women in the party, possibly not encumbered by scruples and damaged hearts, all hungry for his smile or anything else he might be giving away.

She sipped her mineral water. All she wanted to do
was to drive home, on her own, and go to bed. She was so tired she could have slept where she sat and was just slipping into a state not far removed from sleep when she was aware of someone calling her name.

She looked up and saw Ben. ‘Thea,’ he said. ‘Can I have a word? In private?’

He spoke very urgently and Thea wondered what on earth could have happened. She got up immediately. ‘What’s the matter? Is it Toby?’

He shook his head ever so slightly, but lost nothing of his urgency. ‘Bring your bag and coat.’

Thea looked at Molly who seemed not to have noticed Ben’s appearance. Rory was Blarney-stoning one of Thea’s photographer friends and hadn’t noticed either. Thea picked up her jacket from the back of her chair.

Once in the street, he took her by the shoulders. Suddenly wide awake, she felt angry. ‘This is getting to be a habit, manhandling me in the street! Tell me what the problem is and let me get back to my friends.’

His fingers bit into her skin and he looked intently down at her. ‘I’m sorry. I hope I’m not hurting you. But I have to know. Are you really going to sit with that lot all night and get “rat-arsed” as you so elegantly put it?’

‘And why shouldn’t I?’

‘There’s something I want to show you.’ He made as if to push her along the road.

She forced him to stop, although he didn’t release his grip. ‘What is it? I can’t just walk out on everybody. I have responsibilities.’

‘Most of them are drunk and Molly will see to anyone who isn’t.’

‘But I don’t
want
to walk out on them!’

This time he turned and took hold of both shoulders, staring down into her face intently. ‘Don’t you really? Haven’t you had enough of braying women and sycophantic men, all wanting to know your private life and whether there’s anything in it for them?’

Honesty fought with pride and won. She shrugged.

‘Then come with me. I promise you, you won’t regret it.’

‘But where’s your friend? Popsy – Poppy?’

‘I put her in a taxi. Now, will you come with me or not?’ He didn’t wait for her answer. He just took her wrist and pulled her along the road to where his car was parked askew across a double yellow line.

Thea had about two minutes to decide whether or not to go with him. It took her five seconds. When he unlocked the car door for her she got in. Just being away from all the noise and activity seemed sufficient reward for being so passive. Now she’d been taken from all the heat and hubbub, going back would seem like re-entering hell.

He drove up and out of the town to a valley Thea didn’t know. She stared out of the window at the beauty of the summer darkness. The moon had risen, bathing everything with light, casting strange shadows. The trees stood out against the sky. The hills took on the shapes of enormous mythic beasts and honeysuckle-scented hedges were dotted with bindweed flowers, strangely white. It was the kind of night when maidens of old performed strange rituals and laid their linen smocks on the grass to bleach in the moonlight. She didn’t let herself think about where she was going or why, she just hoped the drive would go on for ever. At the moment it was perfect: she didn’t
have to speak and she was with Ben. The minute they had to talk they’d start misunderstanding and fighting with each other again.

He took his car down a drive to where a house sat silhouetted in the twilight. There were no lights on and it looked empty. Roses, in dire need of pruning, grew almost across a leaning wooden porch. A ‘For Sale’ sign, with an ‘s.s.t.c’ band stuck across it, stood by the front gate.

Ben stopped the car and got out. Then he walked round and opened her door. ‘Come on.’ He lifted open the gate for her to go through.

Reluctant as she was to spoil it all by opening her mouth, she had to protest. ‘Ben, we can’t call on people at this time of night. Not when I don’t know them and they’ve only just moved in. Or are they about to move out?’

He didn’t answer; he just manoeuvred her up the path to the front door. They were standing very close together and she was intensely aware of his physical presence. She was only wearing a pair of briefs underneath her dress and she yearned for him to catch her mood and take her in his arms. He didn’t. He held back the roses, so she wouldn’t get scratched, then produced some keys and unlocked the door. ‘There.’

She stepped past him, away from his disturbing nearness, and looked about her.

The house was obviously empty and had been for some time, because there was dust everywhere. Thea stood in the entrance, trying to make out the details in the moonlight.

The door opened directly into the front room, which was large and had probably been two rooms at one
time, judging by the beam that ran across it. She could make out a massive fireplace at one end and a staircase at the other. There was a window almost opposite the front door through which Thea could see a garden and tree-covered hills beyond. The house was enchanting, unrestored, probably bristling with original features. Thea would almost have put money on there being an old Cotswold privy outside. It must have cost a small fortune.

‘It’s amazing,’ said Thea. ‘But I don’t understand. You kidnap me – and you really did kidnap me – take me away from all my friends and important contacts to show me a house you could have shown me at any other time.’

‘I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t risk it. If I hadn’t taken you away when I did, you’d have gone to bed with Rory.’

‘Oh. Why did you want to stop me? You’ve got Poppy, after all. You’ve never shown any interest in me, so it can’t be jealousy.’

‘Jealousy! If you knew what I’d gone through. What do you mean, I’ve never shown any interest in you? You must know by now how I feel about you.’

‘How was I supposed to do that? By ESP? There certainly haven’t been any other indications! You’ve only ever kissed me when you’ve been angry and couldn’t hit me.’ Suddenly she found herself smiling and was glad he probably couldn’t see. ‘You’re angry now, aren’t you? You want to hit me again.’

She heard him laugh softly as he walked towards her. ‘Well, yes, but not quite as much as I want to kiss you.’

He swept her into his arms, crushing her expensive
dress and her with the same ruthlessness. His mouth came down on hers as if drawn by a magnet, his fingers pushed up into her hair at the back of her neck. She couldn’t move, could hardly breathe and wanted to stay there for ever. It felt as if all the kisses he’d never given her were concentrated in that one kiss. He kissed her as if he were never going to stop.

Eventually, breathless, he released her mouth, but kept hold of her body. It was as well he did, otherwise she’d have fallen over. ‘So,’ he said, breathing hard. ‘Now can I ask you to marry me? And don’t say it’s all so sudden, because it isn’t and you know it isn’t. I’ve been in love with you since I first helped you step out of a dustbin. We may fight like cat and dog, but we’re destined for each other and you know it as well as I do.’

Thea swallowed, trying to get her breath and her balance back. Her mind was a little quicker to recover. While she wanted nothing better than to go on kissing Ben for the rest of her life, she had to get a few things straight first. ‘What about those other women? That Molly told me about? Like handbags?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Always another pretty girl dangling off your arm. Molly told me about them. You took one to a family party.’

‘Oh, her.’

‘Yes, her. She wasn’t Poppy, I assume, or Molly would have recognised her.’

He laughed again. For possibly the first time since she’d known him, he seemed boyish and carefree, like Toby making chocolate cake. ‘Cilia was just to stop the family gossip and Poppy was a smokescreen so
Veronica wouldn’t guess I cared about you.’

‘I don’t think she knew that was her function! You used her!’

‘She’s used plenty of people in her time. It’ll do her good to be useful for once.’

‘You are a bastard!’

‘Thea, have you any idea how utterly terrifying it is to realise that the woman you love could be seriously harmed by the woman you once loved? If Veronica had got an inkling of how I felt about you she’d have sued me for custody of Toby.’

‘She wouldn’t have got it, would she?’

‘I don’t know, but she’d have gone for it. And what would that have been like for Toby?’

‘Oh, God!’

‘And if I’d gone to a family party without a woman, they’d have pestered me with questions about this woman that Toby likes so much. Word would have got back to Veronica and she’d have had her knives into your gallery so deep you’d never get them out. Now, can we please stop arguing?’