by A B Turner
I knew the joke was weak, as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I sighed heavily as the realisation hit me, I hadn’t done nearly enough to stop his train of thought. Cyrus smiled knowingly at me,
“Be that as it may, why don’t you talk about your home? I’ve bored you to death with mine so it would seem only fair.”
After making sure the picture was correctly hung, I stepped back to view my handiwork, mainly so I didn’t have to look at him,
“Cyrus, you know I have a younger brother, my mother, if you can call her that, works all the time, shows emotion, none of the time, who probably never should have had children, my father disappeared years ago and, “ I paused, “And we did not live in the country, it was just a place outside of town.”
Choosing not to take the hint this was a conversation I was anxious to end, Cyrus persisted,
“But that’s just the facts, there are no childhood anecdotes, no disastrous school plays where you wanted the lead and ended up as the third tree from the left, no gym displays, where your shorts fell down in front of a roomful of people….”
His voice trailed off, and I jumped at the chance to speak,
“That was yours, sweetheart, mine was looking after Cal and school work…there’s nothing more to tell.”
I noticed him slightly shake his head, as if telling himself it was time to quit, he kissed me on the cheek,
“You win darling, no more questions.”
“Thank you,” I replied gratefully, “Now you get home or wherever you might be going tonight, I can lock up here.”
Cyrus grabbed his favourite long grey coat from the office, checked his watch and headed quickly to the door,
“If I can get a cab, I might drop by this new club I’ve heard about, I could do with adding something fresh to my diet, “he said smacking his lips together.
I laughed and watched him leave, within moments of him raising his hand, a cab pulled up and it quickly merged with the rest of the evening traffic. I locked the front doors and wandered back through the gallery, switching the lights off as I went until there was only the solitary light beaming from the open office door. Somehow this provided just enough illumination to highlight the last painting, which again, caught my attention. There was no question, it was an idyllic scene, maybe that was the problem, I had lived in such a place and the truth was miles away from what this picture was trying to illustrate. But, I wondered, perhaps I carried only a version of the facts, coloured by my need to escape all those years ago, perhaps going back, I would see only this kind of picture and not the past. I dragged one the floor cushions over and slumped down, although Cal and I spoke on the phone every week and we sent each other small gifts from time to time, I was shocked to realise, it had been almost six months since I had been in the same room as him. On that occasion, it was when Mum had needed to come into the city for some reason and we had arranged to have lunch. I had chosen the restaurant, even though I had no doubt, she would find fault and I wasn’t disappointed. From the moment we had arrived, she had looked around as if I’d invited them for tea in the local drugs den, the décor, the menu and the service – which was impeccable- all seemed to give her ammunition to verbally shoot down the place. Initially, I tried to defend my choice but remembered how fruitless that could be with her, so I had focused most of my attention on Cal.
“So how’s school?” I asked, he scowled,
“Boring,” he grumbled, Mum was quick to add about how well he was doing, how the teachers were all thrilled with his progress and how he was destined for great things in the future. Cal rolled his eyes which made me chuckle, which Mum noticed immediately and reprimanded me for not encouraging him more.
After probably the most uncomfortable lunch I had ever endured and a frankly embarrassing moment when I insisted on paying, only for her to snatch the bill from my hand, we left the restaurant and it’s no doubt, relieved staff.
“OK Cal, we have to go now, my appointment is in 20 minutes,” Mum said abruptly.
“But we only just got here,” he complained, “Can I have a bit more time? Maybe we could go somewhere while you’re busy.”
Mum was obviously far from happy at this idea, but I was as eager as Cal to have some time alone with just us, so after a lot of debate, we finally agreed, we would go for a walk in the park and she would meet him in an hour.
As we strolled through the gates, it was as if a weight had been lifted from us both such was her presence. We laughed, played and chased each other around the trees, as if all the intervening years had never happened and we were kids in the field again. We sat down on a bench, me trying to pretend I wasn’t struggling to breathe, while Cal looked on with clear amusement,
“You’re getting old, you used to be able to catch me every time.”
I playfully punched his arm,
“Did you ever think I let you get away?”
“Yeah right,” he replied dubiously, “Whatever you say.”
“So before she gets here, are you really doing okay, Cal?” I asked, he turned to me, those huge eyes still with the power to render me helpless, despite the fact, he wasn’t a little boy any more,
“I guess,” he replied softly, “I miss you though, I wish you hadn’t gone.”
I sighed,
“I had to go, Cal, and you will too, one day, and you’ll see and do the most amazing things, just like Mum said.”
Cal grinned,
“Probably not Maths, or Science, or ….”
We both dissolved into laughter,
“School not going so well then?” I asked, “That’s because you haven’t got me on your tail all the time.”
“Probably, although my Art teacher really likes some of what I’ve done and I’m not too crappy at English.”
We both agreed these were positive signs and worrying about the other stuff was pretty pointless, after all, he could turn out to be a famous artist and I would do his first exhibition. As if to celebrate this future plan, we bought ice creams and wandered back up to the main gates, where I had no doubt Mum would be waiting, tapping her watch impatiently,
“So how’s Uncle Jim? You haven’t told me?” I asked between long licks of the delicious treat.
Cal’s eyes lit up at the mention of his name,
“He taught me fishing and we might be going on a weekend during school holidays, it’s going to be awesome, he bought me a book about all the fish we might catch, so I’ll know what’s on the end of the line.”
“Wow, that sounds exciting, and how are the animals?” I asked, genuinely relieved to see him so excited.
“They’re all good, we had a bit of a scare with Pepper, but Uncle Jim and I stayed up with her all night and she pulled through.”
I looked at him doubtfully,
“You stayed awake all night?”
Cal smiled,
“Maybe I slept for a while, but Uncle Jim didn’t, he was amazing, like a proper doctor.”
The last few precious steps to the park entrance were filled with Cal’s excited chatter and I was instantly transported back to all those afternoons we spent getting home from school. But when we reached the gates, I was wrong about Mum being there, in fact, we had been waiting for several minutes before I noticed her on the opposite side of the street, she was talking to a tall, bespectacled man and they seemed to be having some kind of argument. Within seconds of me seeing them, it seemed like she saw us and after obviously saying one last thing, she hurried across the road towards us,
“Is everything okay?” I asked, Mum looked at me as if she was briefly surprised by the question, but within seconds, she obviously decided not to respond, instead to focus on something else, the small piece of ice cream cone in Cal’s hand,
“I hope that won’t be sick on the way home, especially after all that rich food we had at lunch.”
“If I am, I’ll hang out the window,” Cal replied innocently, Mum rolled her eyes,
“Say goodbye to your sister then, we nee
d to get going if we are going to miss the traffic.”
I pulled Cal towards me in a huge hug,
“It’s never goodbye, Cal, always a team, don’t you forget,” I whispered.
“I won’t,” he replied, “Always a team.”
When we separated Mum told me to take care of myself and turned to leave, but I couldn’t let her go without saying something,
“Mum, who was that man you were with? It looked like you were arguing.”
She glared at me,
“Just someone from work and no, we weren’t arguing, I was just in a hurry, like I am now,” she snapped impatiently, before turning her attention back to Cal,
“Come on now, we really need to be on our way.”
As they started to walk away I felt the overwhelming urge to make a point to her, so I called after them,
“I’m doing well here, Mum, it’s worked out for me.”
She looked back at me, the all too familiar ice cold expression I had seen for most of my childhood crossed her face,
“Well, as long as you’re alright, that’s what matters,” she replied coldly, before turning away and hurrying Cal across the street. As I watched them go, I wanted to scream after her,
“What’s your problem? Why is it so hard for you to say anything to me that’s not a criticism? You’re my mother, why the hell don’t you love me?” That ball of rage I had carried with me since I’d been a kid, suddenly seemed to come alive again, burning furiously in the very pit of my stomach. But they had disappeared into the crowded street before I had a chance to do anything more than wave to Cal for one last time.
I shifted on the floor cushion, my aching back suddenly reminding me why sitting on these things for longer than ten minutes was a terrible idea. I stood up and stretched my arms towards the ceiling, hoping somehow, this would iron out the kinks in my spine from sitting for too long. By the time I had collected my belongings, locked the last doors and set the alarms, I had made a decision, as soon as it was possible, I would go back and see Cal. By then, the exhibition would be up and running, and I could drive out to see him and maybe catch up with Louise at the same time. I walked back home feeling strangely thankful to the artist who had painted that picture, perhaps there was such a thing as Fate after all.
Chapter Five
The next few weeks were a sleepless round of either going to, being at or leaving work, and not just for me, Cyrus Caroline and Jack were all starting to feel as if there was no other world than inside the walls of the gallery. I spent hours on the phone until my voice was hoarse but there could be no pause, no delays as this exhibition, like all the others had to be successful and for that to happen, the media and the ‘right’ people needed to attend. Cyrus called in every possible favour he could to secure the best caterers and to produce the most effective publicity material. Caroline turned into some kind of nocturnal creature, as she tirelessly scampered around the gallery until the early hours of the morning, correcting and checking every last detail over and over again. At last, the night before the big event arrived and we all met in the office at around 6.30 in the evening. As I looked around the room, their faces all seemed drawn and exhausted, vaguely reminiscent of troops returning from a war zone – right down to Jack nursing a wounded hand from a rogue attack from his nail gun.
“OK everyone, that’s it, we all need to go home, get some rest and forget about this whole thing until tomorrow,” I declared firmly. The words had barely left my mouth when Jack helped Caroline on with her coat and suggested they have something to eat on their way home. Cyrus looked on with amusement, despite how weary he must have felt, as soon as they left, he clapped his hands together,
“I’m sensing love in the air..oh I hope there’s a wedding, I have a fantastic ensemble to wear and I need the right event to show it off.”
“I thought the bride was supposed to be the main attraction,” I teased, Cyrus shook his head,
“That, my darling ,is a common misconception, any event I am attending, I have to be the focus of all the attention, I thought you knew this.”
I laughed which set off some kind of coughing fit, at first, Cyrus didn’t move but when he finally acknowledged my frantic pointing at the water fountain, he gave me some water,
“You really have to cut down, darling,” he said, shaking his head in mock disdain.
“You know I don’t smoke,” I replied between sips, “I couldn’t commit every sin, that would be excessive.”
Cyrus stroked his chin thoughtfully,
“Come to think of it, you have ticked practically every box, it’s amazing you’re still functioning really.”
I carefully bundled up all the exhibition literature that covered my desk, put it in the drawer, before answering him,
“I have a very good coach,” I replied, he nodded his head in recognition of the plaudit.
“And you are my very best athlete.”
As always, after we had switched everything off and locked doors, we hugged and went our separate ways. He did briefly try and persuade me to go out for just one drink, but I’d made that mistake before and woken up in too many strange beds and once, even in a different time zone, so I declined.
The following evening, feeling refreshed and revitalised, we opened the doors to the gallery to a blaze of flashing cameras and loud chatter of TV crews who were covering the exhibition. Cyrus who adored being the limelight, dealt with all their questions and queries with effortless ease, while, at the same time, greeting the guests with his infinite charm. As I watched, there was absolutely no denying, he was a gifted ringmaster at this kind of circus. Caroline, in complete contrast, slipped through the throng without raising so much of an eyebrow, until somebody realised they were now clutching an exhibition brochure. Jack stood with me at the back of the room, he was clearly far from comfortable, but had made the decision to try and help with any possible issues with the display. He was a strikingly handsome man, when he wore his working clothes, now he was dressed head to toe in a smart navy suit, he was drawing a considerable number of frankly lecherous looks from ladies of a certain age, with more money than sense. I guessed this unwanted admiration was partly the reason he was standing with me, he obviously felt I would save him and I tried tactfully to reassure him, it was the always the pictures that were for sale, and not the staff. Once the initial chaos calmed down, the gallery became more peaceful, with just the hushed tones of people speaking with each other as they paused before each picture. As I now felt Jack was feeling slightly less intimidated, I started to circulate amongst the guests, so I could get some idea of their response to Ledermann’s work. As generally happened, some people were just buying without even really examining the image, it seemed to be almost a status thing and although it felt a bit shallow, I knew the gallery owners and the artist, would want the bright red SOLD stickers everywhere, by the end of the evening. After over fifteen minutes of listening to one particularly ghastly woman talk – at the top of her voice so everyone else could hear – about her new purchase, I made some lame excuse about needing to answer a phone and made a break for the back of the gallery. I was just passing the office door when I noticed a small, elderly-looking man wearing steel-rimmed glasses, his pale grey eyes darting left and right. He was dressed in a long, buttoned-up overcoat, which covered him practically from head to toe. Just visible were two thin pale, bare legs, white sports socks and battered running shoes. He seemed out of place, in fact, I did wonder if he was perhaps lost or even homeless, as he looked both careworn and lost. I beckoned over to Cyrus and the two of us approached the man,
“Are you alright, Sir?” I asked quietly, even the sound of my voice seemed to completely take him by surprise as he visible jumped,
“Yes, I’m fine,” he blurted, “I’m observing.”
Cyrus and I exchanged confused glances, neither of us quite knowing what to say or do next,
“Do you need anything?” I asked weakly, wishing Cyrus would say something useful, the ma
n shook his head so violently, it seemed as if he could fall over any moment. Cyrus took a small step forward,
“Do you have an invitation Sir?”
Again the man shook his head,
“I am Ledermann, he replied firmly, “I need no such invitation.”
Cyrus and I looked at each other in a shared disbelief, this tiny, little old man had created all of those disturbing sexual and torturous images, it hardly seemed possible. Several awkward minutes passed while we tried to process this revelation and he returned to glancing anxiously around the room,
“These people, they are buying my work?” Ledermann asked.
“Yes, it’s made a real impression on them.” I began, he snorted derisively,
“They are all pigs, feeding at a trough.”
Ledermann moved closer to me, his wizened face no more than a few inches from mine, I could smell his stale breath and the distinct scent of being unwashed,
“Which do you like?” he hissed.
I wanted to step back, but I quickly realised there was only a partition wall behind me, I found his intense stare and whole presence really very unpleasant. I gestured towards the last picture of the countryside scene,
“That one, I like it’s peace and serenity..” again he snorted, then jabbed his crooked finger on to my chest,
“Terrible things happened there, grotesque, ugly things that destroyed me..you know nothing.”
I felt my mouth open, but no words came out, thankfully Cyrus found his voice,
“Sir, surely all art is subjective…what it means to one person will not be the same as another.”
I turned to him to say something in agreement with his observation, but Ledermann threw his hands up in disgust,
“You are the biggest pig of all! I have heard enough, I am going now.”
He spun away from us and walked into the office, rammed open the fire exit door and turned back,
“Make sure my money gets paid immediately,” he snapped and then he left. Cyrus and I stood in silence, still trying to make some kind of sense of what just happened, it was me that broke the mood,