Hold Back the Night

by Abra Taylor

  'I know,' Domini said. 'What else is he doing?'

  'He makes me sit still. He says I'm like a wriggly snake. I miss you, Mummy. When are you coming back?'

  'Not tomorrow, and not the day after that, but the day after that. Now you tell me when I'm coming back.'

  'Tuesday!' Tasey announced triumphantly after a few moments of counting on small fingers.

  Domini wished she could ask directly whether Tasey had taken a dislike to Sander. Tasey certainly didn't like sitting still, and her wistful words about missing Domini suggested that the day might not be going too well. Miranda had assured Domini that the two were getting along, but that might be pure wishful thinking on Miranda's part. Her father's death had kept Domini from spending mental energy on speculations about what was happening in New York, but when she hung up after sending her hugs and kisses over the line, there was a small worry nagging at her brain.

  The news of Le Basque's will reached the North American newspapers prior to Domini's return to New York. In all reports there was considerable guesswork about the size of the estate and particular mention of various legacies to American museums. Because Le Basque had spent so many years in the United States, years when he had reached his real pre-eminence, America almost considered him her own. There was some regret expressed that so few of his paintings would be coming to American museums. Paris papers told the story, too, with a slightly different point of view ... they felt all bequests should have gone to the Louvre, keeping the great art of France in its mother country. On the inside pages of most papers on both sides of the Atlantic, there were stories about Berenice, pictures of Domini's half-brothers, pictures of Domini as a child taken from old newspaper files, eulogies from various public figures whose institutions had benefited from the estate. The personal biographies, devoid of early details, missed nearly all the important parts of Le Basque's extraordinary life, but only Domini and Berenice were aware of that.

  There were no current photographs of Domini, and Le Basque's love-child Didi was mentioned mainly as having been disinherited for unknown reasons some years before. There was some more speculation about this, all of it well off track. At least one reporter called Le Basque's last bequest to her a final slap in the face.

  How could anyone but Berenice know that Domini's father had left her an independent and loving spirit, perhaps the most important legacy of all?

  ❧

  Domini arrived home Tuesday at midday New York time, suffering from jet lag and lack of sleep. Tasey was still in day care, and she had visions of dropping into bed for the afternoon after a quick phone call to Miranda. But her answering service had a list of messages so long it filled two sheets of foolscap. Many were from her regular clients, many from callers whose names she didn't recognize at all ... suppliers, she supposed, trying to make sales. A listing in the yellow pages often brought calls like that.

  The woman at the answering service told her that some of the callers had called half a dozen times and had grown increasingly distressed when Domini failed to return their messages. Uneasily she remembered that she had taken off ten days before with no explanation to her answering service or to those who expected window changes. With the required props and showcards locked in her loft, the merchants would not have been able to change the windows satisfactorily themselves. A few large signs had been for important sales events, and Domini realized she could expect some ruffled feathers. She would have to spend the afternoon soothing them; she couldn't afford to lose clients.

  She called Miranda first. 'I'm here,' she announced and went on to say she would pick Tasey up from day care herself. 'I'll drop by and get her clothes sometime this week,' she finished.

  Miranda asked the expectable question about Domini's fictitious aunt and received a fictitious answer in return. In case of a need to leave the country again, Domini had left the aunt fictitiously alive in her various long-distance conversations with Miranda.

  'Can't you come over this afternoon?' Miranda asked excitedly once the politenesses had been attended to. 'I have so many things to tell you. And a wonderful surprise!'

  Domini thought she knew what the wonderful surprise might be. Berenice had fulfilled her promise the previous day and reported on its results to Domini. She had placed the call to Le Basque's Manhattan dealer in late morning New York time. As it turned out, his gallery like many others remained closed on Mondays, and so Berenice had had the call transferred to Lazarus's home number, unlisted and known to only a few select people. Unfortunately he had been sleeping and was in an accordingly grumpy mood when wakened, but at least he had already heard of the will and had not hung up. Berenice could be very persuasive, and as the chief inheritor of Le Basque's numerous remaining canvases, she had all the weapons of persuasion in her possession. Lazarus had agreed to her request, at the same time warning that he would use his own judgement about Sander's work. By now, if he had followed through first thing Tuesday morning, he might well have called on the little gallery.

  'I'd love to come over and see you, Miranda,' Domini assured her friend, 'but I can't. In fact, it may be a few days before I get there at all. I'll do my very best, but I have a pile of work to catch up on and an angry client or two. Can't you tell me your good news on the telephone?'

  'Absolutely not,' Miranda returned promptly. 'If you can't come during the day, you'll simply have to come for supper, and I mean tonight. Truthfully, I've been counting on it all along. How can you feed Tasey after being away for ten days? Even the milk in your fridge will be sour.'

  'I'll manage,' Domini hedged. She longed to see Sander, but her body ached for an early night. 'Besides, Miranda, I've got a bad case of jet lag.'

  'And I've got the cure!' Miranda laughed, refusing to take no for an answer. 'Would you believe a bottle of bubbly? Domestic, mind you, but a very decent brand. Besides, I told Tasey you'd both be eating here, with ice cream for supper. She's dying to show you what she's been making with Sander's clay.'

  And so Domini reluctantly accepted, knowing in advance that seeing Sander and Tasey together might mean a very trying evening indeed.

  The afternoon was trying too. Some clients she placated easily enough, Grant Manners among them, who added with considerable thoughtfulness, 'Don't bother changing my display this week either, Domini. You'll probably be going like hell to catch up, and you must be exhausted. I'm happy with what I've got now. My God, I've had more questions about that window.'

  Domini's last window for Grant had been great fun. It had been of a laughing mannequin having a bath in a giant golden tub, with a froth of glass bubbles covering all the vital parts. Glass bubbles floated in the air, as if kicked up by the mannequin's foot, and within each glass bubble was a piece of golden jewellery. Domini had used the services of a glassblower to achieve the effect, which showed off the jewellery to good advantage as well as attracting the eyes of passers-by. 'Get into gold!' the showcard had urged with effective directness. Domini hung up after arranging for a window change and a lunch the following week, wishing that all clients were as considerate as Grant.

  She lost two. Both were so incensed they didn't even ask to hear Domini's explanations, and in both cases pride caused her to hang up without trying to give excuses at all. They hadn't been her favourite clients anyway, and she tried to tell herself they were no great loss. Nevertheless, her head was throbbing badly by the time she picked her daughter up from day care, due in good part to the worry about Sander and Tasey that hadn't been far from the surface of her mind for the past few days. Tasey's headlong dive at Domini didn't do anything to ease the pain in her temples.

  With her purse full of unspent money withdrawn for the trip to France, Domini had decided to treat herself to a taxi. Tasey chattered like a magpie during the trip, but not about the happenings of the previous few days. Taxis were a novelty to her, and she loved novelties. She wanted to know everything: why the meter ticked, why they were sitting in the back seat, why the car didn't go faster, why there were so many o
ther taxis on the street, why taxis were yellow, why there were lights on top, why they didn't take taxis all the time. By the time they reached their goal, Domini's head was pounding with so many 'whys'.

  The gallery had already closed for the day, and so they had to ring the bell and wait. There were questions about that too; Tasey was accustomed to being admitted immediately when she was in Miranda's charge.

  'Oh, Domini, what a morning this has been!' Miranda exclaimed at once when she answered the door. She waited only until her guests were inside. Then she picked Tasey up and swung her around the gallery floor in a dance of delight that sent Tasey into screams of giggles. Domini gathered that they had grown very attached to each other during these past days, and she smiled to see it. If only Tasey could have formed one tenth of that feeling for Sander...

  'It's wonderful! It's marvellous!' Miranda sang out, looking happier and younger than Domini had ever seen her before.

  'What's the occasion?' laughed Domini, despite her aching head.

  Miranda let her wriggling burden slide to the ground.

  'Run up and play with your clay for a few minutes, Tasey,' she suggested. 'I want to speak to your mummy.'

  Tasey bounded off with enthusiasm up the now familiar stairs. At last Miranda turned to Domini, her eyes shining. 'I'd let Sander tell you the news himself, but I know he never will! In fact, once we get upstairs he probably won't let me speak of it either. There's another dealer interested in handling his work, Domini, and you'll never guess what?"

  Faking all the appropriate responses was not too hard for Domini, because Lazarus's decision was in fact news to her, and the best possible kind of news at that. Miranda could continue to handle the small unsigned bronzes for the time being, but once cast, the larger pieces were to go uptown. The dealer had not gone so far, though, as to suggest giving an advance to help pay for the bronze castings that would have to be done. That had to be the artist's responsibility.

  'Two of them are to be done right away,' Miranda said. 'I told him we could manage that. Fortunately I've been tucking a little aside for repairs, but they can wait. And by the time the other models have to be cast. . . well, I don't have to worry about that yet.'

  'I can lend you the money,' Domini offered, thinking of the sketches Berenice had given her. Selling just one would do the trick, with money to spare.

  'And exactly what are you going to do to get it?' Miranda asked. 'Rob a bank, or just run yourself ragged by taking on a few more clients? Thanks but no thanks. You've done enough, and you work far too hard as it is. I'll find a way; I have time. There's no way Lazarus can think of mounting a show for Sander before December. He has other shows planned, and it's amazing he has a free slot even then, with all the important artists in his stable. In fact, even in December Sander won't actually be having a one-man show. Lazarus will be hanging some paintings too.'

  'Whose?' asked Domini automatically.

  'He didn't mention,' Miranda glowed, 'except to say he'd arranged it only yesterday, and he expected he'd need sculpture because he wouldn't have quite enough paintings to do a really complete hanging. It was a stroke of good luck, he said, that he had managed to get enough paintings to put a show together at all. He sounded very pleased with himself. Do you know I think it may even be somebody really important?'

  And Domini knew at once that it was.

  'That ought to do wonders for Sander's traffic' She grinned, sending a silent thanks across four thousand miles. Wily Berenice; she hadn't said a word about that part of her plan! It was almost, but not quite, enough to cure a headache.

  'Lazarus is planning to plant some publicity about Sander, to start building his name,' Miranda mentioned with a wry grimace. 'Frankly, that's why Sander won't want to talk about it. When Lazarus said the blindness made a very strong story, the two of them practically came to blows.'

  'Then I'll avoid the subject tonight,' Domini agreed. Then her mind turned back to more immediate matters, the worrisome thing that had been nagging at her all through the hard afternoon. 'Tell me the truth, Miranda. How have Sander and Tasey been getting along?'

  'Go and see for yourself,' Miranda suggested. 'I'll give you three a few moments alone together. I have to go and buy some ice cream anyway.'

  Moments later Domini was standing in the doorway of the studio, staring with surprise. Tasey, wild child no longer, was sitting completely motionless, even to the young fingers resting as if at work over a small mess of clay. Sander was feeling her hands, and on a brand-new worktable there was a sculpture of Tasey, complete but for that one last detail. The model of her managed to convey some aura of perpetual motion, and Domini guessed that her daughter had not remained quite so still through the entire sitting.

  She wriggled ecstatically at Domini's arrival. 'See, Mummy? I'm making one of him and he's making one of me! We've been waiting just to show you! And my, my...'

  'Sculpture,' Sander filled in, straightening and giving up the pretence of work now that Domini had arrived. He turned towards the door, his face smouldering with an expression that told her he wanted very much to take her into his arms. Domini ached to go into them, too, but this was not the time to be demonstrative. 'I'm not actually going to work at this tonight,' Sander said, 'but Tasey insisted we show you what we're up to. We posed when we heard you coming up the stairs. She wants you to see how I'm going to use the sculpture she did.'

  Tasey had slipped to the floor and was dancing with excitement, small fingers flailing the air. 'My skullcher is going to be a part of to! He's not even going to make a copy of it! He's going to let me put it right in, the real skullcher of him! It's a secret so I didn't tell you on the phone! He said I could surprise you!'

  'And you did! What a wonderful surprise!' Domini was half laughing and half crying with relief. She spent a suitably awestruck moment oohing at Tasey's unrecognizable work of art, which vaguely resembled a man's head if one took into account that a nose might sometimes poke in instead of out. The big round smile on its face made Domini wonder if Sander might not have actually been enjoying Tasey's company during the sittings.

  Tasey picked up her pint-sized work of art, complete because it had been done on some previous day, and moved to where Sander stood at his worktable. 'Now that Mummy's seen my skullcher, can I make it part of yours?' she asked, poking one small fist into Sander's strong grip with the confidence of a child who knows she won't be turned away.

  'Go ahead,' Sander said, and Tasey carefully placed the sculpted head of her father into the right position. She didn't let go of Sander's hand.

  Unable to resist some gesture, Domini moved a pace or two and took his other hand, squeezing it privately to let him know how she felt.

  'Do you really like it, Mummy? Do you?'

  'I love it,' said Domini happily, looking at Sander and Tasey together. For headaches, there was no better cure.

  Chapter 12

  Other than one snatched and sinful half-hour that was not spent in talk, Domini was unable to pursue her relationship with Sander during the week that followed. Window changes filled the balance of the working days, and construction of required props as well as designs for upcoming displays filled the evenings and the weekend. A lengthy transatlantic call to Berenice took more long precious minutes, and for once Domini didn't even think of the cost, either in time or in money.

  On the weekend, at Sander's request, Domini dropped Tasey off one afternoon so that he could finish the final details of his sculpture. With glowing face, she watched her daughter run up the stairs to the man who was her father, almost as eagerly as if she knew the secret of her birth. Domini longed to run up the stairs herself. But the things she wanted to say to Sander could not be said with Tasey around, nor in a snatched half-hour.

  By the end of the working week the various phone calls from unknown sources, probably suppliers, had still not been returned. At least two had called a second time. Domini resolved to attend to them first thing Monday morning, prior to the window change a
nd lunch she had promised Grant Manners.

  As it happened, she didn't. Over the weekend a burst pipe in the loft above one client, the travel agency, caused water damage to Domini's display. Remembering the help they had tried to give her, she raced over with a stored prop, symbolically enough a model she had once made of the Eiffel Tower in order to promote French perfumes. That and some travel posters and a roll of no-seam paper ought to have been enough to put the window back in quick working order, but the burst pipe had taken its toll, causing dye to run out of the crepe paper poppies used in the previous display. There was quite a mess to clean up. By the time it was done, Domini realized she was going to be late for her next appointment. She rushed home to change for the lunch, the navy dress again, and called a taxi while she was changing ... she would need it in any case to transport Grant's props. Her cotton working slacks and shirt went into a bag because she knew she would need them during the afternoon. She was half an hour behind schedule and breathless by the time she reached Grant's exclusive boutique.

  'Well, shall we drink a toast to the fact that you finally made it?' he asked with a tilted brow, when he and Domini were at last settled at a table in one of the discreet and expensive restaurants for which New York is justly famous. He lifted his martini glass as if to clink it against Domini's.

  'Sarcasm will get you nowhere,' Domini said lightly, without raising the spritzer she had requested in order to keep her head clear for the afternoon's work. 'Surely you know by now I'm not in the habit of being late.'

  'Are you deliberately misunderstanding me, or are you just being modest? Good God, Domini, surely we're good enough friends by now that you don't need to keep that sort of thing secret from me. It isn't as though you've never spoken to me about your intentions.'