“My God.” I did not know what to make of this at all. “Why didn’t you tell me straight away?”
“What for? I’ve told you now haven’t I? You couldn’t have done anything if I had.”
Zeppo’s revenge on me for laughing at him. “Do you think Anna knows?”
“I’ve no idea. I think she ought to, though, don’t you?”
“You’re going to tell her?”
“It’s worth thinking about. But not just yet. It could easily piss her off at me if I’m not careful. Particularly if she already knows. So I think we should just bear it in mind for now, and see what happens. It’s always nice to keep something in reserve.”
I could not agree more. “So what do you intend to do next?”
“Well, all things considered, I think it’s time to make a move.”
“So soon? I thought you were going to take things slowly?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing? Jesus, you don’t think I normally wait this long, do you?”
“I still think it’s too early. We can’t afford any setbacks.”
“There won’t be any.”
“I don’t know...”
“Look, I don’t tell you how to run a gallery, do I? So don’t try and tell me how to fuck a girl.”
His crudeness grated, but I thought it wiser to overlook it. “I’m not. I simply don’t want anything to go wrong.”
“Donald, believe me, I know what I’m doing. She’s primed and ready. It’s Tuesday today. By next weekend, I’ll have had her.”
Despite his indelicacy, I felt my chest tighten with excitement. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
I hesitated, wondering how much to tell him. “There’s one thing. I don’t want you to do anything without letting me know first.”
“What?”
“I want you to tell me when you think something’s actually going to happen. I want to know beforehand.”
“You’re joking!”
“No.”
There was an incredulous pause. “So if Anna decides to tear her pants off and throw herself at me, I’ve got to say, “Hang on, I’ve just got to tell Donald?”
“I’m sure someone with your experience can arrange things better than that.”
“For Christ’s sake, though, why? What difference does it make?”
“Probably none. But I still want to know.”
I heard him snort, exasperated. “Are you frightened I’ll make it up, or something? What do you want to do, examine the sheets afterwards?”
“I simply don’t want to find out after the event, that’s all.” It was not all, but it was all he needed to know just then. “If anything happens without my knowledge then the entire arrangement is off. I won’t give you a penny. Is that clear?”
“Jesus! Yes, all right, Donald, I get the message. Thy will be done. I promise not to shaft her without asking your permission first. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
“Am I permitted to come into the gallery tomorrow and speak to her? Or is that asking too much?”
“There’s no need to be childish. What do you have in mind?”
“I thought I’d take her out to lunch. If that’s all right with you, of course. You’ll have to be too busy to come with us. Don’t worry though, we’ll go to a no-shagging restaurant.”
I ignored the comment.
I was nervous all next morning. Apart from anything else, I was still worried how Anna would feel about Zeppo after what Miriam had said. But when he arrived she seemed to act normally towards him. When he offered to buy lunch, however, I noticed that she glanced at me to see what my answer would be. I declined. “The two of you will just have to make do without me,” I added, hoping to force her hand. Anna hesitated briefly, then accepted.
I watched them as they left the gallery. They looked right together. Anna was laughing as they walked past the window. If she had been disturbed by Miriam’s story, she was not showing it now. I continued looking out through the window after they had gone, and then turned and faced the empty gallery. I had an hour to pass before they returned.
I telephoned for a sandwich to be delivered. While I waited I wondered what Zeppo would say to her, and tried to imagine how she would respond. I pictured various scenarios, but the only ones I could visualise clearly all ended in failure. When I imagined Anna throwing wine in Zeppo’s face and walking out, I stopped myself. I looked at my watch. Only ten minutes had passed. They would only just have reached the restaurant.
My sandwich arrived, but I had no appetite. I listlessly picked the prawns from it, and dithered about the gallery, straightening frames, adjusting magazines. Anything to pass the time. I looked at my watch again, re-straightened the same picture frames. There were people I could telephone, but my lack of interest outweighed the time it would occupy. I could concentrate on nothing except the increasingly slow progress of the hands of my watch.
Then, suddenly, there were only fifteen minutes left. The minutes that had crawled by now seemed to run away, and I grew more nervous as each one disappeared. My stomach began to complain. I went to the office where I kept a packet of indigestion tablets, and as I chewed one I heard the door open downstairs.
I looked at my watch. She was early. I tried not to think what that could mean, and forced myself to take the stairs at a reasonable pace. I was so convinced that it would be Anna that when I emerged into the gallery and saw someone else standing there I was dumbfounded.
The newcomer turned towards me. “Hello,” she said. It was the woman who had wrecked my car with her Range Rover.
“I’m sorry, have I disturbed you?” she asked, looking anxious. I made an effort and smiled.
“No, not at all. I’m sorry, I was just...” Nothing offered itself, and I let the sentence trail off. Luckily, she was not one to allow time for an awkward silence.
“I was in the area, so I thought I’d drop in and see how you were. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” I said, finally recovering. “I was just a little surprised, that’s all. Pleasantly,” I added, smiling more naturally this time.
“Sorry to disappoint you if you were expecting a customer. Although I suppose I might even be one, if I see anything. Anything I can afford, that is,” she laughed.
“Yes, well’ I began but she was already going on, walking to the nearest painting.
“Oh, I say, that’s rather nice, isn’t it? Who’s it by?”
“Flint.”
She studied it, head on one side. “I can’t say I’ve heard of him, but then, paintings aren’t really my forte. I know what I like, but that’s about all. How much is it?”
I told her.
“Gosh.” She laughed. “Well, at least it shows I’ve got good taste, if nothing else. Still, it is rather lovely.” She stared at it for a second or two longer, then abruptly turned to me. “So. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Still wondering what the reason for her visit was, I almost forgot to add, “And you?”
“Oh, can’t complain. Well, I could, but it doesn’t do any good, does it?” I smiled politely. She looked around the gallery. “I must say, you’ve got some wonderful pieces. I do like a more traditional style. I’m not one for any of this modern stuff, myself
“No, neither am I,” I said, mollified somewhat.
“My daughter’s at art college. Talented girl, but some of the things she’s done leave me stone cold. I say to her, “Why don’t you paint something that actually looks like it’s supposed to, Susan? There’s enough of these intense art students running around, all daubing away at the most hideous things,” but will she listen?” She spread her hands, helplessly. “Still, what can you do? They’re all intent on making a “statement” now. I’m probably old-fashioned, but I like a painting to look like something. If an artist’s got talent, what’s the point of hiding it?”