‘Corsica Coleman has agreed to make her first public appearance at your gallery!’ Lucy screamed with closed eyes, trying to rise above Josh’s angry rebuff. His shoulders relaxed again, having risen and fallen more times than a yoyo that morning. His furious expression morphed into a gormless gurn, like early-man seeing fire for the first time.
‘Corsica Coleman?’ he drooled.
‘Yes, Corsica Coleman. And she’s very big isn’t she?’ she teased in a girlish voice, ‘She’s been hiding quite some time and everyone’s wondering where she is, aren’t they?’ Amanda laughed at Josh squirming on the spot, deciding to appease his hate or common sense.
‘And that would mean?’ he asked, fishing for more sell.
‘That, Josh Arnaud of the relatively-reputable Joshua Arnaud Art Gallery, would mean huge media interest, enormous exposure and a memorable extravaganza that will propel yours and Sofia’s careers into orbit! And…’ she emphasised, pausing for dramatic effect – she even checked his eyes to confirm her suspicion he was already sold – Corsica will announce her next project, a series of concerts with your gallery as official sponsor, at Nick’s exhibition.’
Josh cringed at the mention of his name, ‘I don’t know…’
‘Don’t let a nose splint and silly grudge deny you the answer to all your problems!’
‘And Sofia’s agreed to this?’
‘Yes.’ she replied softly and he looked down, lost in sweet recollection.
‘What will we call it?’ he asked, looking up from his stirring daydream, ‘The exhibition?’
Lucy smiled, knowing she had him on-board. She handed him his note with Sofia elegantly written on white paper.
‘Wow!’ Nick said suitably impressed, ‘You’ve been a busy bee!’
‘And I need you presentable for Saturday. Everything should be setup by midweek and you’ll run through things with everyone soon after, okay?
‘Fine!’ he said, feeling higher than a dandelion seed riding a brisk breeze.
‘I won’t need to see you anymore now. Good luck with it all – I really mean that. Goodbye, Nick.’ she said and turned to leave, crashing his moment of flight.
‘That’s it?’ he cried but she didn’t respond, ‘Luce!’ He stood rooted to the spot, utterly bewildered by what was happening and looked over the brow from where she came, ‘Didn’t you have flowers before?’ he called to her. She continued to ignore him, longing to break stride and sprint from the cold scene as quickly as her legs could take her, but she maintained the same focus that she’d demonstrated all day. Her resolve had seen her through many tough situations and she needed it more than ever as she walked away from Nick.
‘I saw Nick go in; did you speak to him?’ Amanda said to her drained sister as she sunk into the passenger seat.
‘Yes.’
‘Is everything done?’
‘Yes.’
Amanda looked lovingly at Lucy, ‘That was amazing what you did today.’ Lucy’s heart sank and a warm tear surfaced. No verbal response was necessary, her tired satisfied smile said everything. ‘Guess you’d like to go home now?’ Amanda asked. Lucy nodded.
Nick looked down at the rows of headstones, searching for anything recently-added to the scores of graves before him. He concentrated hard and something pristine stood out among the ordinary; white and cone-shaped. As he focussed he was certain it was newly-wrapped flowers and he jogged down the hill towards the spot. He arrived in front of a shiny black headstone with a neat bouquet of lilies rested beneath; he looked at the name and his mouth dropped.
‘How did I not see that?’ he said to Christopher’s marker, feeling utterly ashamed.
Lucy’s dignified silence, her ability to cope, and her strength to pursue and achieve all that she had made him adore her a thousand times more; an incredible woman, the kind he thought couldn’t exist.
Inside a quaint stone cottage in the village of Bray, Konrad and Corsica sat beside a log fire, needlessly warming an already clement August night. Minus the typical woolly sweaters and blankets familiar to the scene, the pair enjoyed the fireplace in shorts and T-shirts, munching on a crispy salad instead of a steaming stew. Corsica’s aunt brought in a tray of tea – appropriate in the U.K. regardless of season or time of day – and laid in on the table by the slightly-perspiring couple. She creased her nose at Konrad, grateful of his trusted friendship with her beleaguered niece, and ruffled his hair as she left to offer them relative privacy – pottering conspicuously within earshot in the hallway.
‘Lucy really is incredible.’ Corsica said, hypnotised by the leaping flames, ‘She’s organising the exhibition, my reappearance, and booking bands left, right and centre for the festival!’
‘I know.’ he agreed, entranced by Corsica’s profile. ‘Nick’s an absolute arse – he’ll never find another like her.’
‘I feel a bit strange helping him but I’m only doing it for Lucy. She said it’s central to everything and the best way to promote the festival – and she’s so damn convincing and focussed, know what I mean?’
‘And completely done with Nick; he was looking for her all this evening at the run-through.’
‘She wasn’t there?’
‘No, she’s currently working the rumour mill for you! Plus I guess it’s a bit weird with Nick, Sofia and Josh there too.’
‘What about Nick and Josh? Any problems?’
‘They just glared at each other like boys in the playground a few times – but Josh was more preoccupied with Sofia, he wouldn’t leave her alone. It got quite embarrassing really.’
‘She’s having nothing to do with him?’
‘Nothing! And what’s more she couldn’t stop looking at Nick! Things are messy, I really hope nothing flares up on the night.’
‘Well if it did it would probably screw up all our plans!’ she said worryingly.
‘And with Lucy in the mix – the cause of Nick’s broken heart and Josh and Sofias’ split-up – it would actually be a miracle if nothing did…’
‘Not helping!’ Corsica yelled, giving him a disapproving look and returning to the flickering flames and whirling embers. His train of thought stopped abruptly and he changed tracks, sensing support was a better line to follow.
‘Are you nervous about stepping back into the spotlight?’ he asked softly. She breathed in reassurance from the sublime beauty of the fire glowing like the nucleus of a sun.
‘Yes.’ she said in a long fearful exhale, ‘Petrified!’
He took her hand; a bold move for man fighting his every impulse in the name of gentlemanly conduct – and good old-fashioned self-doubt – and poured her cup with his other, staring into her eyes all the while. It wasn’t the sexiest gesture to win her heart and steal the moment – and ideally a little of her virtue too – but it did demonstrate incredibly versatile tea-pouring skills. ‘You’re a star; the brightest out there, and you need to shine!’ he said feeling poetically windswept, before paranoia robbed him of his proud moment and he accused himself of borrowing the line from a song. Lengthy internal deliberation was inconclusive.
‘Thank you.’ she said numbly, feeling some empathy from the confused energy he was sending.
‘If you were announcing a comeback to coincide with a sob-story book release or some desperate new celebrity show I’d be very cynical, but trying what you’re trying, well, it’s a pleasure just to be around someone like you; actually putting their neck on the line to help others – even at the cost of a cosy career. That’s moving, that is. You inspire me to be a better man!’
‘Blimey!’ she gasped beginning to blush. He felt a bite of macho and leaned in, drawing his face close to hers; she even whimpered slightly. Konrad suddenly jerked back, startling Corsica, and started to berate himself.
‘What on earth am I doing?’
‘Oh.’ she said, realising what was happening.
‘I must be an idiot.’
‘Actually…’
‘Actually nothing!’ he rebuked, ‘I should
never have… I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll never…’
‘Konrad, it’s okay!’ she asserted.
‘No, it’s not.’ and he got up and gathered his things. ‘It’s probably best I go.’
‘It’s not a problem.’ she said, unsure what to do.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’ and he rushed to the door. ‘Bloody idiot!’ he called himself as he bumped into Corsica’s aunt, eavesdropping on the other side. ‘Oops, sorry.’ he said lurching down the hall to the front door. ‘Thank you Mrs. Webb. Goodnight!’ and the door slammed behind him, startling Corsica from her surreal bewilderment. Mrs. Webb straightened her cardigan and watched Konrad disappear down the driveway.
‘Pussy!’ she hissed under her breath.
Konrad arrived home jaded from a long train journey and found Nick crashed on the sofa surrounded by beer cans and a near-empty whiskey bottle. He looked at him worryingly and began to tidy his mess, even stopping to pull a blanket over him. When finished, he gently edged himself between the arm-rest and Nick’s sleeping head and turned on the telly. After flicking through endless channels of unappealing nonentities he picked up his phone, troubled by an idea, and stared at the screen. Soon he was gripped with the urge to type.
I should have kissed you shouldn’t I?
Corsica soon replied.
Yes
Grateful for communication he eagerly responded.
I’m an idiot aren’t I?
Yes
Do you think I’ll ever get a chance again?
There was a long pause.
Let’s not complicate things. We got a lot coming up
Konrad started to reply but changed his mind and deleted the text. Corsica messaged again:
It’s late, I’m off to bed. Goodnight Konrad x
Konrad took heart from the kiss but was soon overwhelmed by utter hopelessness at missing a universally-gifted opportunity; a real chance to break the invisible barrier between celebrity and civilian he felt was there, believing he was somehow unsuitable or inferior – plus he’d never look good on the front of a glossy magazine and he knew it. To torture himself further he lifted a mag from a stack under the table with a physically faultless Corsica and Jo-E Williams on the cover. He studied their picture-perfect faces, loathing himself by the second, and angrily rolled the magazine; he smacked Nick round the top of the head, waking him from his alcohol-soaked dream.
‘What the bloody?’ Nick said, sitting straight and rubbing his head.
‘What the bloody! What the bloody!’ Konrad mimicked childishly, ‘What the bloody are you doing? Look at the state of you, and the biggest night of your life is tomorrow! You’re a disgrace!’ he yelled, getting to his feet. ‘A socially-accepted handsome disgrace who’s also going to be famous!’ he sobbed, running to his room like a jilted teenager. Nick stared after him, confused by the rude-awakening, then groaned at the sudden onset of the night’s drinking. His mind arrived at the root of his true discomfort: Lucy. He checked his phone for messages, desperately hoping for a reply to the many he sent through the evening. Nothing. He settled back into the sofa and threw the blanket over himself, soon dreaming in anticipation of his unexpected moment in the spotlight.
The fantasy returned to the earlier meetup at the gallery, only Sofia was replaced by Lucy and Josh became Konrad, standing at a distance on a raised platform and shooting hateful looks over his shoulder.
‘You should have painted her.’ Konrad said derisively, besuited in Josh’s attire; his hair smarmed and wearing glasses, pointing to Lucy as she posed provocatively in a long red dress as the central exhibit. ‘Now look what you’ve got; an exhibition titled The Italian Witch while the woman you really love is going out with me!’
‘Lucy? But you’re in love with Corsica!’
‘Corsica, Lucy, Amanda, Daphne…’ Konrad replied smugly as Corsica, Amanda and her mother joined his side, overlooking Lucy in the centre. ‘They all come to me now they know you’re the love-loser!’
‘The love-loser?’ Nick repeated, disconcerted by the scene in front of him and wearing it on his face as he slept uneasily on the sofa.
‘Yes Nick, the love-loser! You lose them all.’ and Sofia joined Konrad and his bevy of sycophantic beauties. ‘Oh!’ he said, noticing something in Nick, ‘Don’t like this one anymore?’ he checked his expression as he manhandled Sofia to the forefront, ‘Not now you got to have another go!’
‘I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘It’s this one you like isn’t it?’ Konrad said as he teleported from the group of accumulating women and joined Lucy in the centre. She writhed her body around him, posing like a hunter with his trophy, and then she disappeared.
‘Where is she?’ Nick shouted, staring at the spot where she vanished.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know!’
‘Where is she?’ he yelled, red in the face.
Konrad merely grinned like a maniacal dictator, ‘Wouldn’t you like to know!’ he said, savouring the despair he felt in Nick’s soul.
Chapter 20
Pedestals & Pitfalls
‘Where is she?’ Nick shouted frantically, scanning the crowd.
‘I don’t bloody know!’ Konrad replied.
‘Yes, you do!’ he insisted. Konrad appeared bothered by his forcefulness.
‘Well, she’s probably in the centre.’
‘So she’s here?’ Nick said grabbing him by his lapels. Konrad looked back confused.
‘You saw her earlier.’ He slapped Nick’s hands off his suit jacket.
‘Who?’
‘Sofia!’
‘No, not her.’
‘Then who we talking about?’
‘Lucy!’ he shouted, exasperated with the conversation.
‘Luc…’ Konrad paused as he realised the cause of his anxiety. There was no reason for Nick to still be harbouring fitful nerves, seeing as the gallery was heaving with London’s finest and anticipation was thick in the air. Any pre-show fears should have abated by now; the artwork and Sofia’s elegant life-modelling had won the guests over and Josh’s contemporary gallery was the perfect setting. It wasn’t so much about Nick’s work anyway; the beautifully simple theme of the night – stylishly displayed around the gallery’s modern spaces – served merely as a backdrop to the big news churning out of the rumour mills, Corsica Coleman’s expected appearance. It didn’t matter what was on the walls, the buzz was just to be there; anyone who was anyone was at the Joshua Arnaud Art Gallery and guests’ smiles were one of self-important smugness and not art-appreciation. However, it all ultimately worked in Nick’s favour – the stand-in man of the moment – and plenty of column inches would prove favourable on the overall success of the evening, orchestrated hastily but brilliantly by Lucy; who unlike London’s high rollers had chosen not to be present. The hole Nick felt as a result was the reason for not savouring this massive opportunity to make a name for himself; ‘Yeh, Lucy’s not here.’ Konrad said sympathetically.
‘But she organised…’
‘Yes, I know.’ he interrupted sternly, his patience short-lived, ‘But you shagged the centre piece and now she’s not coming!’
‘Actually she did all this after I slept with Sofia.’ he defended poorly.
‘Nicholas Green.’ he placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder, ‘She’d want you to make the most of this. You should be out there giving interviews and being your charming self. Hanging back here, hidden out the way with me is not what she wants – and if you screw this up you’ll lose her forever!’
‘You think I still have a chance?’
‘I think a successful artist hot on everyone’s lips is a damn sight more attractive than a failed one!’
A little pluck secreted from his innards, congealing with the complimentary champagne, and Nick felt tingles of self-worth again, ‘That’s true…’
‘And we’ve got one hour before Corsica arrives.’ Konrad said checking his phone, ‘She just messaged me.’
‘
Time to mingle?’
‘Time to mingle!’
Lucy was helping Corsica prepare herself in the hotel suite as her team of assistants and advisors busied around.
‘You look stunning!’ Lucy told her while making finishing touches to her hair.
‘Thank you.’ she said, fighting to overcome the torrent of butterflies in her tummy. Her manager came to speak to her, giving Lucy the full force of his evil eye.
‘Corsica, it’s not too late, sweetheart; we’re still getting tons of good offers for TV work. Honey, this is the last chance to walk away from all this risky festival business…’
Lucy prickled, ‘It’s all organised!’
‘None of this has anything to do with you!’ he shot sideways, ‘Corsica, babe, let’s do the sensible thing while we still can.’
Corsica peered at Lucy in the mirror and gained strength from her friend’s resolute streak, something she’d admired enormously in the short time they’d known each other.
‘Malcolm, thank you for your concern but Lucy’s right, this is a decision made some time ago and I’m both optimistic and committed to it.’
‘She’s bloody poisoned you with tree-hugging nonsense, she has!’ he snarled, jutting a finger in Lucy’s direction. Corsica turned to meet his seething stare.
‘I chose to do this long before Lucy’s involvement, as you know! Now please get away from me.’ and she calmly returned to her preening, ‘If you can’t support me tonight then stay the hell away!’ Malcolm snorted and left the pair feeling more apprehensive than before.
‘Thank you for that.’
‘No problem!’ Corsica smiled warmly.
‘Are you ready?’
‘Think so.’
‘The cars are waiting…’
‘Suppose it’s time to go then.’
A large group of excited reporters, cameramen and onlookers flooded the street, bustling to get as close to the gallery as possible.
Double Ex: A Romantic Comedy about Lost Love & Lookalikes Page 18