Through the Glass

by Lisa J. Hobman

  Felicity shook her head. “No, Lia. I can’t risk you being in any danger.”

  “Look, like I said, I know him very well. He’s not a violent man. He’s sweet, gentle, and kind. He wouldn’t hurt me. I promise you that.”

  Felicity pondered again. “Okay…if you’re sure you know him well enough.”

  “I do. Leave it with me. If he is in on it, I can assure you that I’ll be able to tell.” Lia seemed determined to help Felicity get to the bottom of this.

  “Great. Well…let me know when you’ve been in touch with him, okay?”

  “Sure.” Lia stood. “Oh, I’m sorry is that all?” Lia asked turning back to Felicity.

  “Absolutely. I think that’s enough drama for one day, don’t you?” Felicity rolled her eyes, trying to make light of a very dark situation.

  Chapter 21

  March 2012 — Three Years and One Month After the Break-up

  The art forgeries weighed heavily on Felicity’s mind and somehow the whole situation made her homesick. Being in New York wasn’t all it had been cracked up to be. Since discovering the stash in the storeroom, Lia had been meeting with Chester to try and wheedle information out of him. Her reports back to Felicity were telling her that things were on track. Felicity wanted things to move along faster as this matter needed to be dealt with and over.

  Soon.

  “Look, I can’t just rush in there and say, Hey Chester, were you selling knock off art work when you were at the gallery? He would run for the hills and then where would we be? If he is involved we need to be gentle, Felicity. He isn’t well and he needs to be treated with kid gloves.”

  “I know…I get it…I do. I’m just worried that the longer those things are here, the more chance there is that we could all be implicated too.” Felicity shuddered at the thought.

  Lia nodded. “I know. But that’s why we need the evidence to stack up. So we are not implicated.”

  Felicity felt like a schoolgirl sulking because she wasn’t allowed to tell a secret. What Lia was saying made sense. She just wanted the matter out of her headspace.

  “I’d better go. I’ll be late for my appointment with the realtor.” Felicity stood to leave.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come along? I know the best places to live and if the realtor tries to rent you somewhere gross or in a bad area I could be there to get your back?”

  Felicity shook her head and smiled at the gesture. “I’m a big girl, Lia. I think I can handle apartment hunting.”

  ~~~~~

  Maddison Kennedy met Felicity outside the first apartment block. It was an older building but not quite as old as some of the buildings in London. It had character but she just wasn’t sure. Although she did need somewhere to live. She decided it would be best to keep as open a mind as she possibly could manage. After walking up two flights of stairs, Felicity realised just how unfit she had become. Why…is…there…no…elevator?

  “And here we are. Number two fifteen. Come on in.” Felicity followed the petite redhead into the flat. She had to stay a couple of steps away so as not to be knocked out by the overpowering perfume that Miss Kennedy wore. “As you can see it’s open plan, much the same as most of the apartments in the city. It has that old world charm, don’t you think?”

  “Erm…yes…I suppose so.” If by old world charm you mean wallpaper that Noah himself could have chosen, wiring of death, and a peculiar smell of cabbage. She walked around the room. The kitchen area was small and dingy. Someone had painted the cupboards in a dark green for some strange reason. The lounge area had fitted bookshelves, which were probably the nicest thing about the place. There was only just enough room to put a small table by the window.

  “Come on, I’ll show you the bedroom.” Maddison oozed enthusiasm. But Felicity guessed that she would do the same if showing her a cardboard box by the roadside. Occupational hazard.

  “Bedroom? Singular?” Felicity enquired.

  “Ah-huh, that’s right.” Maddison’s face dropped.

  “Ah. Therein lays a problem. I need a two-bedroom apartment. My mother will come to visit at some point, and I don’t think I can ask an old lady to sleep on my couch.” Although that idea did appeal just to see the look on Penelope’s face. “And I don’t relish the thought of giving up my own bed either.

  “Oh. Okay, let’s go to the next place. It’s only a couple blocks away. I’ll drive us.”

  “Great…thanks.” Felicity cringed at the thought of being in a close and confined space with perfume-girl.

  As they left the building, Felicity’s cell phone rang. She excused herself and answered the call.

  “Hey, how’s the apartment hunt going?” Lia’s voice trilled down the line.

  “Oh…it’s not. No luck so far.” Felicity sighed.

  “Well I have news that may cheer you up!” Lia sounded giddy.

  “What news?” Please let Chester have confessed to everything and be willing to give himself up.

  “You have a visitor waiting here for you,” Lia sang.

  Felicity’s heart jumped into her throat. “Who? Who is it? Is it Jim?” She was filled with hope.

  Lia’s voice dropped sympathetically. “Oh…no, sorry. It’s Julian Forster. You know, the Julian Forster…famous British artist?”

  Felicity laughed without any real feeling. “I know Julian, Lia. I discovered him, remember?”

  “Whoops, sorry. Anyway, he says there’s no rush. He says he’ll go across to Mike’s and have a drink while he waits for you.”

  Felicity wondered what on earth Julian was doing in New York. His exhibition here wasn’t until later in the year. “Tell him I’m on my way.”

  Feeling a sense of relief for her nostrils, Felicity informed Maddison that an urgent appointment had come up. “I really should get back. He’s flown in specifically to see me, and I can’t keep him waiting,” she lied. She had no clue why he was here. It was a social call for all she knew, but it gave her the excuse she needed to get away from Miss Perky-Perfume-Pants and find another realtor, one who actually listened to her clients and maybe didn’t bathe in eau de toilette before leaving the house. Phew!

  At that point, Maddison made her confession. “That’s probably not too bad a thing. All the apartments I was going to show you were one bedroom. I was given incorrect information. My sincere apologies, Ms. Johnston-Hart. Let me get back on the case and I’ll be in touch.”

  They shook hands and Felicity hailed a cab to Mike’s.

  ~~~~~

  Fifteen minutes later, after fighting through the bustling metropolis that is New York City, Felicity walked through the doors of Mike’s bar and scanned the room searching for her friend.

  “Felicity!” came a voice from the direction of the bar, and she looked to see a tousled and bearded man walking toward her. He was dressed in dark blue jeans, a lighter blue shirt, and big tan-coloured boots. His signature long black trench coat was unfastened, and he had a striped Edinburgh university scarf draped around his shoulders. In his left hand he carried a woolly hat that looked far too long to fit any human head.

  “Julian! Hi!”

  He pulled her into a warm bear hug, towering over her even in her four-inch heels. “Come on, let’s grab a drink. What can I get you?” He kept his arm around her shoulder as they walked over the bar. Steve, the regular bartender was nowhere in sight. Instead Gino, an older man, was working the daytime shift.

  She sighed. “Just a mineral water please. Got to be back at work this afternoon.”

  Julian ordered their drinks and guided Felicity to a booth toward the back of the bar. The place was surprisingly busy considering the time of day. But it was a popular place.

  When they had made the small talk associated with two friends who haven’t seen each other in a while, Felicity cut to the chase. “So, what brings you to la grosse pomme?” She sniggered at her own terrible French accent.

  Julian laughed, too, rolling his eyes. “Ah, well, therein lays a tale Ms. Jo
hnston-Hart. I have something for you.”

  “Ooh, I love presents. Gimme, gimme.” She held her hands out.

  “Not so impatient, honey. I can’t give it to you directly as such. You have to come and see it.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him but kept her smile in place. “Hang on. Are you being smutty? Because if you are—”

  “Good grief, no!” He laughed. “No offence but my heart belongs thoroughly in the clutches of another. No this is work related.”

  Felicity sighed. “Oh. I got excited then.” She took a sip of her iced mineral water suddenly wishing it were wine.

  “Don’t sound so disappointed. I can assure you, you will love this.” Julian wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Okay…tell me then.” Suddenly, paying full attention to Julian, she leaned forward across the table.

  “Okay. So there I am looking through some paintings belonging to a friend when I come across these amazing pieces by an unknown artist!” His eyes sparkled as he spoke.

  Felicity’s interest peaked. She loved to discover new talent. “Tell me more. I like the sound of this.”

  “I knew you would.” He winked. “Okay, so I’m not at liberty to reveal the artist’s identity yet. She’s quite shy, and we feel that until you’ve seen her work and decided whether you think Nilsson-Perkins will be interested, we should keep that snippet quiet.”

  Felicity’s face scrunched in irritation. “That’s a bit unorthodox, Jules.”

  “Yep, yep, I’m aware of that. But you trust me, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Right, okay then. What else do you need to know?”

  “Well…I’ve ascertained the tiny detail that the artist is female…so…where is she from, who are her influences? What does she paint? How old is she?”

  “She’s from the South of England. Her influences are the greats, Monet, Manet, myself.” He dusted at his shoulders in a boastful manner and with a glint in his eye. “She paints the most amazing scenery. But she doesn’t just paint the scene. She brings it to life in the most remarkable way. And the way she uses light…” Julian rolled his eyes back as if in some kind of euphoric state. “I’m telling you, Felicity, she is the next big thing.”

  “Hmmm. Well, I suppose you should know, having been that very thing yourself, eh?” Felicity poked his arm playfully across the table. “She sounds great.” Her eyes glazed over a little as she felt a surge of emotion.

  “You okay Felicity?” Julian sounded concerned and his expression told her the same.

  “Sorry, yes. Just a little melancholy… Things have been a little tough lately and…well, I used to paint. I think I miss it. Being here makes me see that and hearing you talk about this young woman makes me feel a little envious. What I wouldn’t have given for someone to have said that kind of stuff about my work… Oh well, what’s past is past… Just ignore me.” She waved her hand dismissively and cleared her throat as she shook her head. “Right, so when do I get to meet her?”

  Julian seemed to be stifling a smile. “That’s the thing. She won’t fly. I need you to come to Glasgow and see her work.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “But you said she was from the south and why can’t she fly? I hate flying and still do it.”

  He opened and closed his mouth as if struggling for what to say and then finally said in a rush. “It’s a medical condition…yeah, she’s awaiting clearance for flying, but it’ll take too long if we wait. And she can’t risk trying. And yes, she is from down South, but lives and paints in Glasgow just now.”

  She eyed him suspiciously for a moment. But his expression was blank. “Okay. When do I need to come out?”

  He audibly exhaled a huge breath he must have been holding. “Great! Okay, you really need to fly out in April so it’s not long. I have the details of the exhibition I’m setting up, right here.”

  He handed her a piece of paper with details scribbled on it. She cringed. “Gosh, Julian, you should have been a G.P with writing like this!” She laughed. He blushed.

  “Good job I’m an artist then and people only have to be able to read my autograph.”

  She rolled her eyes. “True.”

  Julian and Felicity spent the next hour catching up and eating a late lunch, which she decided she needed. He was only in New York over-night, and so they hugged and parted agreeing to see each other next month in Glasgow.

  ~~~~~

  Back at her hotel that night, Felicity felt lonelier than ever. She contemplated contacting Lia but decided she had leaned on her enough since being here. She pulled out a box from her wardrobe that she had made sure to keep with her when most of her other belongings had gone into storage.

  It was a box of keepsakes, things of sentimental value, things she knew would make her cry. She didn’t look at the contents of the box often. In fact, for her own sanity, she chose to avoid looking inside the box at all costs. She had only brought it to the hotel as the thought of it being piled up in some storage unit made her feel physically sick. They were her memories after all. Little pieces of her heart were hidden in the contents of this box.

  Seeing Julian had made the sense of homesickness much more vivid, almost palpable. He was a connection with home. He had been her first big discovery and was the only person from her art world life that Jim had any friendship with. They’d got on really well and knowing this made her miss Jim even more now that she had seen Julian. It was silly really. It wasn’t as if they were best friends. It was a tenuous link when all was said and done. But it was a link and it made her heart ache.

  Tentatively removing the lid from the box, she looked inside. Folded pieces of paper, photos, movie ticket stubs, and a little teddy bear. The beautiful white gold locket was in there somewhere too. She pulled out the first piece of paper.

  You are my soul, my love has no destination without you

  You are my breath, I breathe but dust when we’re apart

  You are my warmth, chills sear me when you’re gone from me

  You are my friend, my love, my passion; you are my heart.

  The poem Jim had written for her on their first Valentine’s Day apart was the first thing she came across. She’d been in New York and he had hidden it in amongst her clothing in her suitcase. She had cried silent tears when she’d read it then; now was no different. Here she was in New York without him once more. Only this time he wasn’t waiting at home for her return.

  Chapter 22

  March 2012 – Three Years and One Month After the Break-up

  Jim’s eyes were fuzzy, and when he looked at the clock, he was surprised to discover it was eleven in the evening. He had been trying to keep his mind off Julian’s visit to New York. He said he would call as soon as he could with news, but as yet no call had come through. He was hoping this lack of communication wasn’t a negative thing. But he just couldn’t be sure.

  Would Felicity see right through the plan and figure out who was behind it all? Would she believe every word that fell from Julian’s mouth? She had no real reason not to believe him. But she may think it was odd. Who would blame her?

  He shut his laptop down and resorted to making a cup of hot chocolate and clearing out the fire grate. It was a very cold March evening and the fire had been on the go most of the day. He had let it die down a couple of hours earlier, thinking he would write for another ten minutes and then go to bed. That hadn’t happened and now he could see his breath when he exhaled.

  Sitting in the lamplight huddled under a fleece blanket on his sofa, he began to doze off. He fought sleep as best he could, but every few minutes he jerked his head up after drifting ever closer to the land of slumber.

  Suddenly the phone rang. Jim dived across the sofa, almost causing himself broken ribs in the process as he landed on the hard arm and grabbed the hand set.

  “Hello? Jules?” He panted.

  “Hi Jim! You sound like you’ve been jogging, mate.” Julian laughed

  “Hardly. It’s gone eleven here.” He tr
ied but couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve just got back to my hotel from seeing Felicity.”

  “And?” He didn’t even try to hide his impatience.

  “She fell for it, mate! Woo hoo!” Julian yelled down the line.

  Jim’s breath left his body in one quick huff. “Thank fuck for that!”

  “Err, I think you mean thank Jules for that.” Julian laughed triumphantly.

  “Aye! That as well!” Jim chuckled. “How did she seem?” Please say she talked about me non-stop and misses me terribly.

  “She looks amazing, Jim. I won’t lie to you. I mean sizzling hot. You’re one lucky dude, I tell you. Want to know something funny?”

  “Always,” Jim replied

  “When I told her about our mystery artist she got all misty-eyed and said how much she missed painting.”

  “What? Really?” Jim was shocked but very happy with that little nugget of information.

  “Really. She’s so talented Jim, but she doesn’t even realise it. She just hasn’t got a clue.”

  “Aye, you’re right.” Jim chuckled. “Honestly, Jules, I can’t thank you enough. I really appreciate all of this. You’re sacrificing a lot for me.”

  “Nah. I’m sacrificing nothing. She discovered me and now it’s my turn to help her dreams come true. Honestly, I have nothing better to do with my time at the moment. The cash is rolling in nicely and I’m all finished on the pieces for my next big exhibition, so this is giving me something to focus on…and to be truthful, I’ve found it quite exciting, all this cloak and dagger subterfuge. It’s a break from my normal routine.”

  “Aye, well, it means the world to me, all this.” Jim suddenly felt emotional, so he cleared his throat and said his goodbyes.

  He shuffled up to bed, but felt wide awake. A new flood of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He just hoped that he hadn’t left things too late. He’d wanted to go to Flick as soon as he had read Edgar’s letter, but then with the arrival of his brother his plans had been scuppered. He’d lost confidence. Simply turning up now that she had gone to New York was not an option. She would be in her element there. The last thing he wanted was to fly all the way out there to be shot down in flames. No, this was the best way. This way he had a different life to offer her.