by A B Turner
“No I’m here,” he said breathlessly, “I’m practically ready.”
Uncle Jim laughed,
“You’d better sit down before you fall down, Buddy, and get your boots on.”
As Cal laced his boots, I explained Jim had already said he could miss his chores today, as I was there, Cal looked up and frowned,
“I should help,” he said firmly.
I could feel Jim’s discomfort at Cal’s brusque remark,
“How about you help too?” he suggested, “More people will make the chores go faster, what do you say?”
I looked at Cal, hoping against hope he would say he wanted me there, he muttered something under his breath and then looked up at me,
“OK, come on then, but just don’t get in the way…”
“And no running through the bull’s field either, not sure I could flip you over the fence again,” added Uncle Jim with mock severity. Cal and I both laughed,
“She can’t run fast anymore,” he teased.
“I can still go faster than you,” I shot back, before making a break for the door, as soon as I was outside, I took off down the lane with Cal in hot pursuit. Unfortunately I had temporarily forgotten how long it had been since I’d last actually run anywhere, but, somehow, the pure adrenalin coursing through my body, seemed to overcome the strain my lungs were clearly suffering. I zipped behind the big tree and stopped, breathing heavily to the point of almost wheezing, Cal’s smiling face appeared next to me,
“You’re still pretty quick,” he conceded between deep breaths, “I didn’t think I was going to catch you.”
“I always let you,” I laughed and he smiled broadly,
“You keep telling yourself that..” he answered.
“Come on you two,” yelled Uncle Jim, “I thought you were here to help me out.”
After a difficult start, the day passed without any real problems, until it became time for me to leave to get back to the city. Uncle Jim wished me well which left Cal and me alone again, his face was still flushed from a combination of the sun and the hard work, as he walked me to my car,
“Did you mean it?” he asked, “About my drawing? Or did you say it to annoy Mum?”
I took his hands in mine,
“I meant it, if you get those pictures finished, maybe we can do something with them, I can’t promise you’ll make millions, but if the right people see them? Who knows?”
He smiled and pulled me close in a tight hug,
“I’ll finish them,” he said firmly, I smiled and ruffled his hair,
“It’s going to work out, Cal, I know it will,” I added, as I got into the car, he nodded his agreement, although it felt a little half-hearted, as if he didn’t quite believe me. As I drove down the lane, I could see in the rearview mirror, he was watching me, not for the first time, he suddenly looked small again and it took everything in me, not to turn back. But my life wasn’t there anymore and all I could do now, was to get him away too, before Mum’s negativity ate into him like some kind of virus and killed any hope residing inside him. I knew now, the way she was, had been shaped by everything that happened, but as I’d said to her, none of that had been down to us. In a weird way, I knew she didn’t resent us, as people, but perhaps we were hard to look at, perhaps when she saw us, she was reminded of our father and that was a memory, she just didn’t want to recall. I had often wished I’d known him, but by the time I was any age, he was long gone, there were now no pictures of him anywhere in the house, but there had been, and I knew that for a fact. I remembered one afternoon, when we were kids, Cal had gone out with Uncle Jim and, for once, I’d been alone in the house. I had walked up to her closed bedroom door and- even though I knew there was nobody there- I slowly turned the handle, as if I was frightened of waking her. When the door swung open, I glanced behind me before walking into the room, which had always been absolutely forbidden. I wandered around the bed, and, before I really thought about it, I slowly opened the drawer of her bedside table. After a quick search, it became clear, there was nothing of much interest other than some headache pills, a book and a pack of tissues. Feeling disappointed, I went to her chest of drawers and opened each drawer in turn, at first, slowly and carefully, but as I worked my way down, I became more and more impatient.
“Why isn’t there anything interesting?” I muttered.
The bottom drawer was the largest and unlike the others, it was much harder to open, I ended up having to sit on the floor and pull at the handles with all my strength. At first, it didn’t budge, but then suddenly, it moved sharply and sent me toppling backwards. I sat back up and peered into the drawer, underneath a thin layer of clothes, I could see two large, identical boxes with heavy lids. I tried to lift one out, but I couldn’t even make it move slightly, so after several futile attempts, I tried sliding the lid and, much to my childish joy, it moved, not the whole way but enough to let me see the contents. There were neatly tied bundles of official-looking papers and some obviously handwritten letters, I tried to ease one out of the box, but I could see, it was likely to tear, so sadly, I had to gently push it back to its original position. Once I was sure the first box looked untouched, I turned my attention to the other, again, with a little encouragement, the lid slipped open and I could see, the whole box was crammed with photographs. I craned my head until I was almost in the drawer, just to get a closer look, and right at the top, was an old black and white picture of a wedding. I studied the faces, and there was no doubt in my young mind, the smiling bride was Mum, she looked so young and so pretty, clutching a bouquet and dressed in the most beautiful white dress. I looked at the man next to her, he was taller than her, he looked slightly awkward in his formal suit and starched collar, but he was smiling too,
“That must be my father,” I whispered aloud, while wishing I could take the picture out of the box, so I could get a better look at him. As I shifted position, the corner of another photograph appeared behind the first, it was smaller, so I made the bold decision to try and ease it out completely. After a few minutes, and gentle movements, the picture was free and I sat back to look at my discovery. It had obviously been taken at the wedding, it was of the two of them, raising glasses to each other while looking intently into each other’s eyes. They looked so in love, the way she was gazing up at him, even to my young eyes, her whole expression seemed to be about trust, like for her, there was no-one else in the world like him. Whereas his eyes were focussed entirely on her, as if he had never seen anyone more beautiful. I couldn’t help but wonder what had changed to make it possible for him to hurt her quite so much and for so long. As I sat staring at the picture, I could to the conclusion, perhaps for Mum, Cal and I were painful reminders of everything that had happened, but I would probably never know for sure. When I realised Cal and Uncle Jim would be back soon, I put the picture back, replaced the lids and, after some struggle, I closed the bottom drawer, feeling completely convinced Mum would never know I had been there. However, a long time later, when again, I was alone in the house, I went back to her room and opened the drawer, this time there was no problem at all. When I looked inside, the two boxes had gone, and even though I searched the rest of the chest, it was clear, there was no sign, they had even existed. I had spent the next few days feeling a whole range of emotions, from panic as perhaps she knew I’d been in her room and I was about to be punished, to total confusion, as to why she had said nothing, after all, she must have known, one or both of us had invaded her privacy. But in all the years that followed, she never mentioned anything about the boxes, much like my father, perhaps she was more comfortable believing they too, had never existed.
My journey home was only punctuated by a quick stop at Louise’s house, just to say hello and wish her well with everything, also making her promise she would call more and tell me everything about her new relationship with Dylan. We hugged and her Mum gave me a whole bag of freshly-made cookies for the journey home, as she walked me to the car, I felt her hand tighten a
round mine,
“I miss you, you know? Especially now with everything happening with Dylan,” she said sadly.
“I miss you too,” I replied truthfully, “I get into way too much trouble now, I’ve done some really stupid things.”
Louise frowned,
“Well, just take better care of yourself, I need you, you’re my best friend..and I know that sounds selfish, but I don’t care.”
I smiled,
“You’re my best friend too, I’ve met new people but none of them will ever know me as well as you do.”
We hugged again, once we separated, after extracting a promise I would stay in touch more, she reluctantly let me go, but I had one favour to ask,
“Can you keep an eye on Cal for me?”
Louise nodded,
“Of course, have a safe trip home, love you.”
“Love you too,” I called back, as I got into the drivers’ seat and turned the ignition, after one last wave, I drove up the road and turned on to the main street. For the first few miles, I did feel a slight twinge of sadness about leaving Cal and Louise behind but that feeling was only fleeting, especially when I could see the city skyline in the far distance. I noticed as I got closer, the ‘old me’ faded only to be replaced by the new version. Unquestionably, I preferred things this way, there was less baggage, the ball of rage seemed to cool to the point of being barely apparent, and best of all, was the over-riding sense of freedom. I’d felt it when I had first arrived and it had never waned, there was just something about the city which energised me, made me feel anything was possible which was so unlike the stifling atmosphere back home. Once back in my own place, I tossed my unpacked suitcase on the bedroom floor and flopped on to the bed. I’d been there for no more than a few moments when the phone rang, I knew it could only be Cyrus,
“Hello my darling, so you’re back from the Little House on the Prairie?” he said, “No bears then?”
I laughed,
“There are no bears, Cyrus, or wolves, beaver or moose, now is everything alright with the exhibition?”
“Of course it is, I’ve been in charge,” he declared dramatically, “How could it be anything less than a triumph?”
“How did you know I was back?” I queried, suddenly realising the timing accuracy of his call,
“Oh darling, I have my ways, you know, oh and the fact, your car raced past the gallery about fifteen minutes ago. Although I was vaguely insulted you didn’t stop, I was very relieved you weren’t in a covered wagon, bonnets really do nothing for me.”
“Now that is surprising, you admitting to not looking good in something, are you sure you’re alright?” I laughed, I could picture him scowling at my comment,
“I shall put your rudeness to your time in the wild, and see you tomorrow, sleep well, gorgeous, we have a busy day ahead.”
We said goodnight and I crawled under the covers, having quickly stripped off my clothes and dumping them on the floor. I stretched out and sighed happily, it felt so good to be home.
Chapter Seven
It was early morning when I walked to the gallery, the sun had barely made its presence felt between the towering buildings and the streets were still only populated with the remnants of the night before. A barefoot young woman approached me, she was clutching her shoes in one hand and a small handbag in the other. Her hair was dishevelled and her face smudged with the remains of last night’s mascara, she paused to pull a stray dress strap back over her shoulder. As she moved to smooth down her crinkled dress, she staggered forwards only stopping herself falling over, by grabbing at me. When our eyes met, I was instantly struck by the complete lack of expression in her face,
“Are you alright?” I asked, genuinely concerned, she stared blankly at me, as if she was trying to remember me,
“I think so,” she replied slowly, “Do I know you?”
I shook my head, this simple act made her step back so quickly, she fell back against the wall,
“Well, why are you touching me?” she said, obviously confused, “I need to go now, you’re weird,” she pointed at me before starting to wander away.
“Don’t you follow me,” she yelled back, while walking into a streetlight, she momentarily rubbed her head, but somehow managed to keep going, weaving across the path and getting dangerously close to the parked cars.
As I watched her, I felt someone approach me from behind,
“Friend of yours?” it was Cyrus, “If so, you girls must have had quite a night.”
I smiled,
“No, she just fell into me,” I explained, his eyebrow raised in mock disbelief,
“If that’s what you say happened…”
I laughed,
“Come on, let’s get inside, it’s cold out here.”
With all Ledermann’s pictures having been sold and collected, the gallery walls seemed nothing more than vast white spaces, it felt cold, sterile and lifeless. As we turned on the lights and started the coffee machine, perhaps hoping to make the place feel less like a surgical unit, Cyrus asked about my trip home. I told him about Louise and her new relationship, then moved on to Cal’s artwork, carefully side-stepping any reference to my mother. If he noticed, which I didn’t doubt he did, he was kind enough to allow me this space and chose to focus on Cal.
“So do you think we could find someone to look at his work?” I asked, “Or maybe display some here when we have the evenings devoted to new artists.”
Cal frowned,
“Darling, it’s never the best idea to mix personal and professional, as any good hooker will tell you, it only ends with someone being screwed for the wrong reasons.”
But I was not so easily dissuaded,
“Please Cyrus, if he sends a couple of pictures, could you at least look at them?”
He shook his head in resignation,
“How can I say no to that face?”
I thanked him, not only for his agreement, but also for the steaming mug of coffee he placed in my hands,
“It will mean so much to Cal,” I added happily, Cyrus smiled,
“Well, no promises, but I’ll certainly give him the same consideration as anyone else.”
“Thank you again, I just wish there was something I could do for you,” I answered, before he had a chance to answer, our conversation was interrupted by loud banging on the front door. We turned, only to see a truck driver desperately trying to get our attention, he was way over six foot tall, had dark, curly hair and muscles that could rival a weight-lifter. Cyrus looked at him and then me,
“Oh you shouldn’t have, darling, it’s exactly what I wanted, oh I do hope it fits!”
I roared with laughter as he walked to the doors and waved to the bemused driver,
“Don’t bang me quite so hard, I was always going to let you in.”
Thankfully, the driver turned out to have a sense of humour which rivalled Cyrus and so barely a minute had passed when he was easily coping with Cyrus, flirting outrageously with him, despite the fact, he’d made it clear not only was he straight but happily married too,
“For now,” replied Cyrus mischievously and the driver laughed,
“Forever,” he replied firmly, Cyrus sighed dramatically,
“So if I can’t have you, what have you got for me?”
“Sixteen crates of artwork by some guy called Paternoster,” the driver replied, “Is he any good?”
“Oh yes,” said a breathless Caroline, who had somehow appeared in the gallery, between the driver and Cyrus, without any of us noticing her,
“He is one of the most revolutionary artists to emerge from Belgium in many years, his work is highly regarded and is expected to become extremely valuable in years to come, “ without apparently pausing to even breathe, she went on to explain his entire childhood, his battle with drug abuse and his subsequent artistic career which apparently began with a stint in rehab. We stood in awe at her expertise, which, when she realised our reaction, she blushed and muttered,
&
nbsp; “Well, that’s a little bit about him, anyway.”
Still slightly dumbstruck, we began to unload the truck, helped by Jack, who had also managed to appear, without anyone seeming to see him, although perhaps it had not been missed – at least by Cyrus and me- Caroline and Jack had arrived within seconds of each other. I knew Cyrus would not normally let this turn of events go without at least one comment, but luckily for them, he was so distracted by his new friend, he didn’t feel the need.
As the last crate was unloaded, we thanked the driver, Cyrus considerably more effusively than the rest of us, and we looked at the stack of crates.
“I hope this guy’s stuff is easier on the eye than that last one,” Jack said thoughtfully, “Some of those pictures gave me nightmares.”
Without stopping to think, Caroline hastily spoke,
“Oh I know, a couple of nights ago you woke up in a terrible state..”
As soon as the words left her mouth, there was no denying, she would have done almost anything to un-say them. She glanced anxiously at me and then Cyrus, who was about to speak until I interrupted to save her blushes,
“Well, let’s see what we have here.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cyrus scowl but his dissatisfaction paled when compared to Caroline’s beaming smile of gratitude, whereas Jack seemed completely unbothered by her revelation and instead began the process of opening the first crate. Unfortunately for Jack, Paternoster’s work was just as disturbing as Ledermann’s, just in a different way, his were more the dark side of nature, vultures feasting on a the remains of a gazelle, a plague of locusts ravaging a field, a crocodile doing the death roll with a struggling bison calf and perhaps the most nightmare-inducing, of all, an enormous portrait of a vast tarantula . It was this last one which Jack almost dropped,
“Oh God that’s horrible!” he squealed, his whole body visibly shuddering as he walked away from the offending picture. Cyrus chuckled at this reaction until he saw the picture too,