by Rosa Temple
‘I don’t suppose you were. But how much of that did you hear?’
‘Only the part about you seeing someone,’ he said.
I flopped into my chair. We were in territory that I didn’t want to be in because deep down I was still in a confused state over how I felt about Hugo and Anthony.
‘So who’s the lucky guy?’ he asked me.
‘No one you know,’ I said.
‘Well, will I meet him at the show?’
The truth was, Hugo had said he’d be there for the show but an unexpected turn of events meant him having to fly out to Brazil. The manager of the spa had fallen ill and there was no one to run his businesses. He’d been in Cumbria for less than a fortnight, just long enough to turn things around between him and his father, and help his father with the farm.
‘He’s out of the country at the moment,’ I told him.
‘Oh I see,’ said Anthony pushing his glasses up his nose.
‘What?’ I said. ‘You don’t believe there is someone?’
‘Well, it would be convenient to have someone right at a time when you know I want to open my heart to you.’
I stood abruptly. ‘The point is you shouldn’t be opening your heart. You shouldn’t be opening anything. You’re engaged.’
‘Not any longer, I’m not.’ He put his head down and sat in the chair opposite my desk. I sat too.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘Have you and Inez broken up?’
‘It was straight after you and I spoke. I wanted to tell you before but Inez is making the split difficult.’
Several images of Anthony doing away with Inez so that forensics couldn’t trace it back to him went through my mind. God knows how many times Lena and I had gone over all the CSI plots when she had a similar problem.
‘Are you listening?’ Anthony was saying when I came back to the present.
I nodded.
‘So, technically, I am single now,’ Anthony said.
‘But I’m not,’ I said quietly. ‘Your timing is way off, Anthony. Things could have been different, I’m sure, but …’
‘But I’m too late.’
I nodded yes and pulled my lips into a thin line. Anthony leaned his elbows onto my desk.
‘I blew it, didn’t I?’ he said. ‘I knew how I felt about you a long time ago but there was Inez and …’
‘Please, Anthony, let’s not go there. It’s better if we don’t. The show is on Saturday night. We’ll be up to our eyes in leather and male models. We’re going to need our wits about us.’
He nodded and gathered himself up with a big shrug. At the door he stopped.
‘So, if I hadn’t dragged my feet and if I wasn’t with Inez and you if were still single, would you and I …?
‘I think there was every chance of it, Anthony. But it’s too late now.’
He closed the door, making me feel as if a chapter had closed on my life but that there were still some footnotes that I had to deal with and subtexts yet to explore. I couldn’t end the Anthony chapter until the day I left Shearman and there were still 100 days of my 365 to go. Was I counting? Yes I was. Time was dragging its heels. It was like Groundhog Day but, unlike Bill Murray, I hadn’t even learned how to play the piano. I hadn’t learned what to do.
Hugo called me from Brazil that evening.
‘Looks like I’m going to be here longer than I thought, Magenta,’ he said.
‘Is it going to be tough finding a replacement for your manager?’
‘That and the training involved. But it’s not only that. I’ve decided to streamline the business. I’m going to sell the Peru resort. I have no idea how long I’ll be away but I’ll keep you posted. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said as casually as I could because I really wanted Hugo to come back so I could feel grounded again. ‘Do what you have to do, however long it takes.’
‘I can’t wait to see you again.’
‘Me too.’
‘There’s something else,’ he said. I was intrigued. ‘Magenta, I want you to consider something. Since being back, and since having long talks with my dad and seeing how cut up he is about life without Mum, it got me thinking.’
‘Yes?’
‘About what I really want.’
‘And?’ I said.
‘Magenta, I don’t fit in London. I don’t fit the bars, the fast traffic, the pace – and it doesn’t fit me. The only thing for me there is you. I want you to think about coming out here once your year is up. Just you and me, the house, the scenery, the big sky. I want you to see it and I want you to think about living here with me.’
‘Hugo, I … I’m lost for words. I never expected …’ What I wanted to say was I never expected you to put me through this again, making me choose between my home and you, but I choked.
‘Look, just say you’ll consider it,’ he said. ‘That’s all I ask.’
After he hung up, my heart was racing.
It was official. Drama followed me wherever I went and I wish I could make it stop.
Chapter 34
I thought that the change in season would bring with it some changes to the tightrope walk that had become my life. But summer, though it was nice and warm, wasn’t leaving me with the wonderful feelings I remembered having over a year ago – when Nana Clementine was still with us. She would have been a great source of help to me. There was no one else I could speak to and who could give me the answers I needed. No one understood my mind as well as Nana did and I was constantly missing her.
I was speaking on a regular basis to Hugo on the phone and by text. He had managed to employ a suitable manager he could trust to run the spa, the previous one now having been signed off sick completely and advised by his physician that rest and getting rid of all stressful responsibilities were what he needed.
Taking a leaf from his ex-manager’s book, Hugo then decided to sell the retreat in Brazil as well as the Peruvian one, an offer for which had just fallen through. He was still very keen for he and I to be living on his mountain near the rainforest in the humble way he did, not seeing civilization for ages and growing his own food. I had to admit, with the stony atmosphere at Shearman continuing to its stoniest depths, I was very tempted to pack everything in and fly to Brazil on the next plane and join him.
I had stopped to consider Hugo’s offer to go out to the rainforest for good but I had so many reasons to stay in London. Of course, there was my family. I’d miss them and I did have my parents’ wedding to plan for the following year. Obviously, anyone could organise a wedding – a professional wedding planner for example and it was probably possible to plan a wedding from a rainforest anyway.
Then there was my best friend. That was a no-brainer. Anya travelled for most of the year these days and when she was in London, she was seeing the disgraced ex-politician Henry Bowser and not me. My flat? I loved my flat to pieces, especially my bath and my sofa and my walk-in wardrobe, but I was sure Hugo could build me a walk-in wardrobe in his mountain cabin and, I’d checked, he did own a bath and a sofa.
Could it be my job? Of course not. It was well documented by now that I was leaving Shearman in six weeks. And, of course, there was still this nagging feeling that I was being too hasty to dismiss Anthony’s declaration of love for me.
He was avoiding me like the plague, finding more and more reasons for him to be at meetings or the factory or putting the finishing touches to his art exhibition – always without his trusty PA on hand. We used to be a hot team, we bounced great ideas off each other and we were always on the same wavelength. But all those things had fallen by the wayside and I was missing the dynamism of our working relationship.
I was also missing the fact that Anthony and I had become really good friends and now we couldn’t be friends any more. All of that we’d thrown away and replaced with nods and frosty exchanges of work-related conversation.
I complained to Lena about how work sucked for all t
hose reasons and she got me to take it out on the path in Holland Park, chasing around after her pink, Lycra-covered bum every Saturday morning. I had also been running at least three other mornings a week on my own and I was actually becoming a real runner in my own right.
One day I beat Lena back to our landmark, the oak tree, and she looked impressed by my efforts when she came to a stop.
‘Very good,’ she said. ‘Now get stretching.’
‘Yes, boss.’ I got to it straight away, no more complaining that only dancers stretch.
‘So, who were you running to forget this time?’ she asked. ‘Hugo or Anthony?’
‘A bit of both,’ I said, hand against the tree as I held my left foot in one hand behind me to stretch my quadriceps. ‘But mostly Anthony. He gave me an invitation to his art show and I don’t want to go.’
‘But weren’t you the one who got him going on bringing his artwork over from Italy?’
‘Yes. The man wasn’t painting at all when he came to London. I got him painting again, too.’
‘So you could say you were the one who helped him find himself again.’ Lena was stretching her calf muscle.
‘In some respects I suppose you could say that. But I can’t take all the credit. It was only a matter of time. When the business was up and running and his stress levels had gone down I’m sure he would have picked up a paintbrush sooner or later.’
‘But weren’t you the one who helped him get his business up and running?’
I stretched the right quadriceps and reluctantly took credit for lighting some dynamite under Anthony.
‘In that case,’ Lena said. ‘He is probably giving you the invitation as a thank you. He’s got people interested in his art. You should be there to see what you created.’
‘I’m not taking credit for his exhibition. That’s all him. He’s a great artist.’
‘Yes,’ said Lena. ‘But you were the one who made everyone in the art-buying world sit up and take notice.’
‘It’s a small show,’ I said extending an arm over my head to stretch my right side. ‘It’s not that big a deal.’
‘Really?’ she scoffed. ‘Well, I think you should go.’
I untied the outer running shirt I’d been wearing earlier from my waist and put it back on over my vest top. We walked to the gate but just before leaving the park, I stopped.
‘Come with me, Lena,’ I said.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
It happened that the exhibition was on that same evening. Anya would have been my go-to plus one but she was in America with her agent, finally having serious negotiations about a film role she hadn’t been sure about. I hadn’t wanted to arrive at the art gallery on my own. I wasn’t sure if Inez was still in the picture and I didn’t want a scene.
Anthony had come to my office door with the invitation.
‘It seems weird that it isn’t a given you’ll come,’ he’d said. ‘But I’d really like for you to be there.’
I waited for Lena at the station so that we could walk in together. I wore a strapless, black linen dress that reached my ankles. I accessorised with a chunky necklace of large, wooden hand-painted beads and matching earrings along with a pair of flat sandals. I threw a wrap around my shoulders just before I left the flat. When Lena and I arrived at the gallery we were greeted with a glass of wine and an exhibition of paintings that stunned me into silence for the second time at seeing Anthony’s work.
His paintings really were masterpieces. He had a unique style, a drama to his brushstrokes I’d not seen before and a build-up of colours that made me wonder if the Anthony I saw at work was the same person as the artist whose brightly coloured canvasses were on display. His artwork was loose and free, which went against his appearance even if he was casually dressed. Even in the loose white shirt and baggy linen trousers he wore he still looked a bit of a square and he still looked nerdy the way he pushed his glasses up his nose.
His hair was even longer now and he was a lot more relaxed talking to people as they crowded around him, desperate to know what inspired him. I had always assumed Inez was his muse until I stumbled across one of his portraits in the space at the back of the main exhibition room.
‘Shit,’ Lena said, standing and staring at it beside me. ‘Isn’t that you, Magenta?’
I was dumbstruck, looking at the larger than life Magenta on an enormous canvas, bright in colour and bold in definition. The eyes were partly closed but the lips were smiling; no, they were speaking. My hair, of course, was big and in between the waves and curls were flowers of every season of the year.
‘When did you pose for that?’ Lena asked.
‘She didn’t,’ a voice said behind us. I didn’t turn around when I heard Inez’s voice but Lena did. ‘He painted it all from memory. Or so he said.’ Coming up alongside me, Inez turned to look at me. ‘Did you pose for this?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘That would never happen.’
Inez leaned in closer. ‘You know he and I aren’t really over. We’re always looking for a way forward. A new beginning. He told me he didn’t have an affair with you and I believe him.’
‘If you ever doubted him, Inez, then there was something wrong with your relationship and that had nothing to do with me.’
I walked away and left her standing there. I would have walked right out of that gallery had I not come with Lena and if Thelma from finance didn’t stop me and start up a conversation. While I was making small talk with Thelma I saw Inez whisper something to Anthony. He then turned to see me for the first time and Inez walked out of the gallery.
Thelma and Lena had inadvertently kept me at the gallery for longer than I’d wanted to stay and I couldn’t escape Anthony when he was finally able to break away from having to mingle. He cornered me near the bar.
‘I’m glad you came, Magenta.’ His smile was big and sincere. I’d missed seeing that smile. I thought he’d forgotten how. It was infectious, anyway, because it made me smile back. It was a relief to be nice. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up the coolness between us. It was painful, always had been.
‘You know I’d never miss it, Anthony. And congratulations – it’s an amazing exhibition. I don’t think I fully appreciated how talented you are.’
‘Thanks. I only wish I got this kind of recognition when I was starving in Italy.’
‘Come off it, you were never really starving.’
‘You know what I mean.’
I nodded.
Anthony and I walked around looking at and commenting on his paintings. He spoke with a great deal of pride and I’d never known him to be so animated and alive. People still came up to him and congratulated him as we walked around the exhibition until gradually everyone started to leave. There were just a few stragglers milling around in the main room and polishing off the wine at the makeshift bar. Anthony and I had walked into the section in which the giant Magenta portrait stood. Anthony looked up at it but I looked around for Lena, only to discover she had walked out on me.
‘And this.’ I giggled, gesturing to the painting of me. ‘Could I ask what your inspiration was?’
‘You could but we’d be here an awfully long time while I went into detail about this remarkable woman.’ He turned to me but I kept looking up at the painting. ‘This is my latest piece. The idea came to me when I realised that she might soon be out of my life. I thought it was a way to hold on to her even if she could never be mine.’ He paused to look from the painting to me but I kept my eyes fixed on her. ‘Like I say, it’s my latest piece and probably I painted it too late, just like I leave everything too late. Everything that’s important that is.’
The few people left called a goodbye to Anthony, saying they’d be in touch. He waved without moving his eyes from me.
‘The flowers,’ he went on. ‘You might have noticed they come from different seasons of the year. They each represent the seasons of the year in which I knew her. Each season
she brought something new, something vital and deeply joyous to me, and I never really let her know how much. In many respects I was afraid to tell her, afraid of what she’d say. Stupid of me. I should have just told her what I really wanted.’
‘Which was?’
‘To be with her … close to her, for each and every season of that amazing and brilliant year.’
I shook my head. ‘We can’t go over this again, Anthony. Too late means too late.’
‘It doesn’t have to, Magenta.’ He held my arms. ‘That Hugo guy has been gone ages now. Are you sure he’s coming back and that he’s not gone off travelling the globe again?’
I pulled away.
‘Sorry, that was uncalled for,’ Anthony said, trying to block my path to leave. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run out of there before I did something I regretted. Anthony’s words were too much. Hugo had been away a long time, probably longer than he needed to be, and thoughts of Anthony were so strong without him around.
‘I’m going home, Anthony.’
‘I wish you would stay.’
‘It wouldn’t be a good idea.’
‘Stay while I pack up and get this place in order. We can talk.’
‘No,’ I said and walked out of the back section into the brighter, larger one. I didn’t stop until I was stepping onto the street. Being outside was surreal, like stepping into a time zone that had completely been unaltered by what had changed so drastically within the gallery; something very big had changed in me. For one moment I almost said yes to Anthony. For one moment I was prepared to call Hugo and tell him not to hurry back. For one moment I really wanted to kiss Anthony. The weird thing was, with every step I took towards the tube station, those feelings got stronger and stronger until I turned and sped my way back to the gallery.
A member of the gallery staff was about to lock the door when I came hurtling back and burst in.
‘Did you forget something?’ the man at the door said.
‘Yes,’ I said and continued hurrying to Anthony. He stood, half bewildered, a hopeful expression on his face as I rushed into his arms. We kissed. We kissed a long time. I could no longer hear the clattering of wine glasses being gathered or the dulled chatter of staff tidying away.