Given Time

by Anthony Burn

  I wondered if maybe I’d approached telling her the wrong way, and whether I might be able to find a better approach at some stage, but I seriously doubted that. She had been so resolute in her objection that I began to imagine she might have a point about not knowing what it was doing to me. I trusted her judgement on so many things, and I faced the possibility that she might be right about this too.

  Having pondered it for a few minutes I dismissed that conclusion. I knew her opposition was based purely on fear, and that I hadn’t given her enough time to come to terms with it. Even so, I would think more carefully about whether I needed to use it, and I would stop carrying it with me all the time so Lauren wouldn’t feel it through my pocket again. I would even consider getting rid of it altogether if I could go long enough without needing it, but for now it went back into the drawer.

  She arrived moments later, her face radiant as she put down her bags and I poured her wine. She ran to my arms, and as we kissed I knew I wanted this much more than I wanted the exploits in time, so I determined right there that I would never bring the subject up again.

  She took her glass to the window to watch the river while I put the bottle back in the fridge and grabbed a beer. I walked over and embraced her from behind, hugging her close and kissing her head.

  She murmured and pointed with her glass through the window. ‘I love it here.’

  I nuzzled my face against hers and whispered, ‘I love you, Lauren.’

  ‘Oh, you bastard,’ she said, turning to face me with her cheeks glowing.

  ‘That wasn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for.’ I laughed, but I worried that I might have upset her again.

  ‘What? Oh no, I love you too. I love you with all my heart.’ She kissed me quickly, and pulled away. There was a pout on her face but her eyes were sparkling with delight. ‘It’s just I wanted to be the first one to say it.’

  I frowned at her. ‘So why haven’t you?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear it. Guys can be funny about the “L” word. I didn’t want to frighten you off.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ I said, pulling her back into an embrace.

  ‘I wish I’d known. I’ve been wanting to tell you forever.’

  ‘I’ll make it up to you,’ I said, stepping away from her.

  ‘How?’

  I went back to the drawer and turned the device back just far enough to see her walk to the window. I put the wine bottle back in the fridge again and collected my beer. Standing behind her, I turned her gently to face me and stared deeply into her eyes.

  ‘Lauren, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt this happy.’ I pulled her into an embrace and hugged her tightly.

  ‘Me too,’ she said,

  I stroked her head. ‘I don’t ever want this to end.’

  ‘Nor me. I love you,’ she whispered.

  I mentally punched the air. ‘I love you too,’ I told her, and we kissed for a long time.

  ‘I’ve been longing to say that to you,’ I said afterwards.

  ‘So, why haven’t you?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought you might want to be the first one to say it.’

  She frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was just a feeling I had.’

  She gave a small laugh. ‘You know, Kee,’ she said, ‘sometimes you can be just a little bit weird.’

  The next few days brought mixed fortunes, with several positive notes offset by a number of significant concerns. Lauren had been working hard on the phone with her multitude of contacts, and by the end of our second week of trading her efforts were being rewarded. She had gained interest for our stable of artists, from some renowned collectors and galleries, and she had already started negotiating for exhibitions, not just in London but in Europe and the United States too.

  News about our gallery had percolated around the art world, and it wasn’t long before we were being visited by owners and staff of other establishments. Some attempted to be surreptitious, but many were quite open about their inspections. Lauren would give me a nudge each time she recognised someone, and it became an interesting game to see how long they would try to avoid our eyes.

  Towards the end of the second week, a tall, angular-looking woman in her early forties came in. She was smartly dressed, with a short dark brown androgynous hairstyle that gave her an air of authority that mirrored her bearing. Lauren sat bolt upright as soon as she saw her.

  ‘Oh my God, that’s Christa McKenzie,’ she whispered to me. ‘She’s an associate curator at the Hanniden gallery.’

  The Hanniden was renowned, with galleries in London, New York and Paris to my knowledge and possibly more, so I understood Lauren’s emotion at being visited by one of their number.

  ‘Go and talk to her,’ I said as Lauren continued to be awestruck, ‘and remember to treat her as an equal.’

  ‘Thank you, Dad,’ she said with a smile as she made her way out from the desk.

  I watched her approach the other woman with her hand out ready to shake.

  ‘Christa, good morning,’ she said. ‘It’s very nice to meet you. I’m—’

  ‘Lauren Dinsdale,’ Christa finished, her American accent evident. ‘It’s so nice to finally meet you.’

  Lauren’s face flushed. ‘I wasn’t aware you knew me.’

  ‘I’ve known of you for a long while. We’re part of a fairly small community, but I guess you know that.’

  ‘Well, yes, and obviously I know you because of the Hanniden’s standing,’ Lauren replied, ‘but I’ve only been working at a small gallery. I didn’t think anyone had seen me there.’

  ‘And attending a lot of events,’ Christa told her, ‘where your knowledge and commitment hasn’t gone unnoticed. You’ve been building a very good reputation, I can tell you.’

  A bemused expression crossed Lauren’s face. ‘I had absolutely no idea.’

  ‘Oh yes, we’ve been keeping an eye on your progress for some time now. In fact, we have an opening coming up at the Hanniden, and your name came up…’ Christa gestured at her surroundings. ‘But I guess we’ve missed that particular boat.’

  They had been walking towards the desk as they spoke, and Lauren made introductions, her face alive with the knowledge that a woman she admired not only knew of her but also respected her.

  Christa spoke directly to me. ‘There’s been a lot of buzz going on about this place, so I hope you don’t mind me coming to see for myself.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ I assured her. ‘We’re happy to have you here. I hope you like it.’

  ‘From what I’ve seen so far, it looks fabulous. It makes the Hanniden suddenly seem quite tired. I’d love to know who your designers are.’

  I smiled at her. ‘This is all Lauren’s work,’ I said, feeling immensely proud of my girlfriend.

  Lauren opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak Christa said to her, ‘That doesn’t surprise me at all. Good job.’

  Christa accepted Lauren’s offer of wine, and the two women took a tour of the gallery. After they had gone upstairs, I watched them for a while on the CCTV monitors. Lauren was leading her companion to selected paintings, and I saw that while she gestured and explained about the works, Christa was nodding and interjecting very little. After they concluded the tour the older woman pointed to one of the sofas, and as they sat sipping their wine I noticed the roles had reversed. Now it was Christa who seemed to be conducting most of the conversation, and although I couldn’t see Lauren’s face from the camera angle, I could see she was doing a lot of nodding with just the occasional shake of her head.

  ‘I cannot believe that,’ Lauren told me, after Christa had said her goodbyes and wished us luck with the business. ‘I never knew anybody was taking any notice of me.’

  ‘I can believe it,’ I said. ‘I watched you showing her the paintings, and she was completely absorbed. That’s what you do, and you’re brilliant at it.’


  ‘Ah, thank you,’ she said, and moved to kiss me.

  ‘Not at work,’ I managed to say, even though I was desperate to let it happen. ‘Anyway, it’s no wonder they want you at the Hanniden. So, when do you start?’

  She laughed. ‘It’s so funny. She was very nice, but she really was headhunting. She offered me fifty thousand, and when I turned it down she went up to fifty-five. A few weeks ago I would have jumped at that.’

  ‘Lucky for you, I got in first.’

  ‘You mean lucky for you,’ she said, and kissed my cheek before I could move away.

  Despite being upbeat from Christa’s visit and the progress of the agency negotiations, there was still a concern playing on both our minds, thought it was causing Lauren more anxiety than me. We’d been open for business for two weeks, but we were yet to sell a single work of art. As each day passed, Lauren’s unease increased along with her loss to understand it. She explained to me that at her previous gallery, they had sold on average six to eight paintings a week, and while they had the occasional dry spell there had never been one that went on this long.

  I tried to pacify her by telling her it was still early days, and that maybe we would start selling when we were better known, but even I wasn’t convinced by my argument; we’d had people coming in, and they couldn’t all have been our competitors, yet none of them wanted to open their wallets. I’d also tried telling her I wasn’t concerned if we didn’t sell anything at all, but that had been a big mistake. She was determined the business should be a success, and because she was beginning to feel she was failing, to have me suggest I could consider it an amusement just upset her more. We agreed to give it longer to see if it would resolve itself, but that decision did little to ease the tension.

  If that wasn’t distressing enough for Lauren, events were about to get worse. We had planned to go out for the evening to a pub in Soho, where she was looking forward to introducing me to some of her friends. The occasion started well, with the two couples seeming to be friendly enough, but it wasn’t long before I noticed a definite undercurrent. Lauren was excitedly telling her girlfriends about the visit from Christa and the offer she had turned down, but as I watched her with admiration, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the two guys making fake yawning motions. I turned to face them and they quickly looked away, but their contrition didn’t last long. Within minutes they were quizzing me about where I bought my clothes, the cost of hiring private jets, riverside property prices and a host of other things in an effort to calculate how much I was worth. Their girlfriends made a pretence of shutting them up, but it became increasingly obvious that they wanted to know too.

  I put up with it for Lauren’s sake, but I soon found it hard to disguise my irritation, particularly when they started pleading poverty each time it was their turn to buy and asking for the most expensive drinks when it came to my round. The second time it happened Lauren said she’d give me a hand, but as we approached the bar I saw she had picked up her coat and she pushed me on towards the exit.

  ‘We’re leaving,’ she told me. She repeatedly apologised for her friends and was at a loss to understand what had got into them.

  Her fury intensified the longer she thought about what had happened, but I assured her she had nothing to apologise for – it was probably just the drink talking – and when I reminded her the guys had been worse than her girlfriends, she calmed down slightly.

  It turned out I was wrong about that. The following week, Lauren went out for a night with her girlfriends. This time the group included her best friend, Izzy, who I had met at the opening night of the gallery. I’d expected her to be all smiles when she came into work the following morning, but she greeted me dolefully. I asked her what was wrong, but she shook her head and her lips stayed tight. My concern grew so I pressed her again, as gently as I could, but she was no more forthcoming and I could see the pain swelling in her eyes. I kissed her forehead in an effort to stave off the imminent tears.

  ‘Can I stay with you tonight?’ she asked, her voice almost a whisper. ‘I’ll tell you then.’

  ‘You don’t have to ask,’ I told her, ‘but I need to know if I’ve upset you in some way.’

  ‘No, it’s not you,’ she said.

  We made it through the day and at times she brightened, as the work took her mind off what was troubling her, but by the time we were in the taxi home she was quiet again. She made it clear that she still didn’t want to talk in the cab, so we sat and listened to the driver’s ramblings until he dropped us off.

  I let her in to the apartment and started for the kitchen to get drinks, but she put her hand on my arm to stop me.

  ‘Can you take me to bed now?’

  I picked her up to carry her, and she laughed for the first time that day as she folded her arms around my neck.

  ‘I didn’t mean literally,’ she said, ‘but it’s very nice.’

  ‘It’s all part of the service,’ I said. I kissed her and eased her down on top of the bed. ‘Give me two minutes for a quick shower, and then I’ll be all yours.’

  ‘You don’t have to shower for me,’ she called as I raced to the bathroom.

  ‘I’m not doing it for you,’ I said. ‘I’m doing it for me.’

  By the time I got back she was undressed and between the sheets, so I climbed in beside her. She put her head on my chest and looked up at me, her eyes swimming.

  ‘Just hold me, please,’ she whispered.

  I put my arms around her and she started sobbing. I stroked her back and kissed her head while she cried herself out, deciding it was best to let her get it out of her system before I questioned her further. It was some time before she calmed down and kissed me passionately. I followed her lead and, thinking she wanted to make love to further put off telling me her troubles, I rolled her onto her back.

  ‘Can we talk first?’ she asked, her voice tentative, as though she thought I might refuse.

  I rolled onto my side to face her, and she did the same. ‘Yes, no problem,’ I said. ‘Whatever you want. Just tell me what’s bothering you.’

  Her face was still tear stained, but her voice was stronger. ‘Kee, I love you. I love you so much… but do you think I’m a gold-digger?’

  ‘I love you too, you gorgeous creature, and no, you are most definitely not. In fact you’re the furthest thing from a gold-digger there is. If you were that sort of parasite, you’d be asking me to buy you stuff all the time, but you’ve never asked me to buy you anything. What’s this about?’ I asked.

  She told me about her evening with the girls and how it had been going well while she had been buying the drinks, but when she had suggested to one of the others that it was her turn, the girl claimed to have forgotten her purse. Lauren had told her she’d seen it when her friend had taken her phone out of her bag, to which the girl had said she didn’t think it was fair for her to have to pay, now that Lauren was earning so much more than them.

  Lauren had got annoyed with the girl and expected Izzy to back her up, but instead they had all turned on her, saying that she was flaunting her new clothes and phone in front of them and showing off about her boyfriend and her new gallery. The tirade had gone on and on until she got up to leave, when Izzy had said, ‘Yeah, go on. Fuck off, in your private jet to your millionaire boyfriend, you gold-digging whore.’

  I pulled her close, and hugged her tightly while kissing her head. I remembered the warnings Gail from the lottery had given me about the jealousy of friends, but it hadn’t occurred to me that it could happen just as much through association. I told Lauren as much of the advice that I could remember, and apologised for it coming too late. She shook her head and said it helped a bit, even if she was still hurt about falling out with her best friend.

  A thought occurred to me and I wrestled with it for some time, not knowing whether it would ease Lauren’s pain or make it worse.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, seeing the indecision in my face.

  ‘I don’t know if I sho
uld tell you this,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to upset you more, but it might explain—’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Did you tell Izzy how you felt about me before the opening?’

  ‘Yes, she knew I was crazy about you. Why?’

  I told her about how her supposed friend had come on to and trailed after me at the gallery. ‘If anyone is a gold-digger, it’s her.’

  She snorted her disgust. ‘Fucking cow. I’m glad you told me, because now I don’t need to feel guilty about hating her.’

  She fell silent, and we lay quietly while I caressed her. In time, she let out a deep sigh.

  ‘Are you okay, now?’ I asked.

  She pulled away from me and propped herself up on her elbow while shaking her head.

  ‘Kee, I know you don’t want to, and I know I keep going on about it, but we’ve got to talk about the gallery. It’s been three weeks now and we still haven’t sold anything.’

  I groaned, but I knew she was right.

  ‘And please don’t say it’s early days again, because it’s totally not. We can’t keep on just waiting to see.’

  ‘No, you’re right,’ I told her, ‘so what do you want to do about it?’

  I was hoping she had come up with a plan, but her eyes welled up and she said, ‘I don’t know. I thought I knew how to run a gallery, but I was kidding myself. I’m such a fucking failure, and I’ve wasted all your money…’

  ‘This isn’t helping, Lauren,’ I interrupted. She was such a capable woman, and confident in so many respects that it was always a surprise when she became insecure. ‘Yes, I agree there’s something wrong, but it definitely isn’t you, and it’s not the gallery. There’s been nobody who hasn’t admired it.’

  ‘What is it then? Why can’t I sell anything all of a sudden?’

  ‘Maybe it’s the art,’ I suggested, but I immediately saw that was the wrong thing to say.