Fine Lines

Chapter Six

By halfway through the next week, I had heard two pieces of gossip stemming from that evening. One was good, one bad. The bad came from Miriam. She came into the gallery on Monday afternoon, brimming with apologies and scandal.

“You’re becoming quite a regular visitor,” I said.

“I know. I’ll be buying one of your bloody paintings next. Is there any chance of a coffee? I’d kill for some caffeine.”

“I’ll get it,” Anna said.

Miriam flopped down into a chair. “I’ve come to apologise.”

“Whatever for?”

“Saturday bloody night. It was awful.”

“Of course it wasn’t!” I lied.

“Donald, we both know perfectly well it was. And I want to apologise for Jessica, as well. She’s a bloody pain in the neck sometimes. And that was one of them. Thanks, Anna.” She took the coffee. “No, I should have known better than to expose innocents to her when she’s in one of those moods. She can be awfully nice sometimes, but you wouldn’t think so from hearing her going off then. I could have cheerfully strangled her.”

“She was rather overbearing. But you can’t hold yourself responsible for your guests.”

“Well, perhaps not. But it was my fault for inviting her in the first place. I thought there might be some friction between her and Zeppo, but I didn’t expect her to go for his throat. I didn’t realise he was a model, and as soon as I heard him say that, I knew we were in for it.”

“She did seem to take a dislike to him,” Anna said, grinning. Miriam snorted.

“I would imagine it was mutual. I really could have killed her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you,” I said. “I don’t think Zeppo’s the type to be easily upset.”

She hesitated. “No, so I’ve heard,” she said, pointedly. “How do you come to know him, anyway?”

I was instantly wary. “Through mutual friends, really.”

“He’s not a close friend of yours, or anything, then?”

“Well, I don’t suppose I’ve known him very long, but he seems likeable enough,” I said, torn between endorsing him and not wanting to be too closely affiliated in case she knew something incriminating.

“Ah.” Miriam sipped her coffee. It was clear she had information to divulge. I was by no means sure I wanted to hear it. Certainly not then, in front of Anna. But it would have seemed unnatural not to ask.

“Why?” I hoped I sounded casual. Miriam put her cup down. I could see that nothing could have prevented her telling us anyway.

“Oh, I just wondered. I was talking to someone yesterday who knew him. Or knew of him, at any rate.”

“Who was that?”

“An old friend of mine. He went out with her niece for a while.”

I was relieved. Whatever she knew, it was not the same information I had. That would have been disastrous. “I gather she told you something about him?”

“She did indeed. According to her, he’s a real monster. Gave her niece a terrible time. Walked all over her, let her know he was seeing other girls. All sorts of things. Finally, the silly girl threatened to cut her wrists. I suppose she was hoping to frighten him. The next day she had a parcel delivered. A packet of razor blades in a red velvet box.”

I instinctively glanced at Anna. She looked shocked. “She didn’t use them, did she?”

“No, thank God. When he did that she came to her senses. Realised what a shit he was and pulled herself together.”

“Perhaps he’s just a shrewd judge of human nature,” I said, furious with her. “That could have been what he intended.”

Miriam was unconvinced. “It might have been, but my friend seemed to doubt it. And even if it was, he was still taking a hell of a risk.”

I smiled. “It’s a pity he didn’t have a box handy on Saturday night. We could have presented them to Jessica.”

Deflected back to her dismal party, Miriam laughed embarrassedly. “God, yes. I think I’d have even held her down while someone used them.”

She chatted some more, but she had finished what she came to do. An apology on the one hand, a character assassination on the other. When she had gone I turned to Anna.

“That was rather surprising about Zeppo. I didn’t think he was the type to do something like that.”

“No, neither did I. Just goes to show you never can tell.”

I busied myself with a catalogue. “If that is what happened. Miriam’s stories do tend to be a bit apocryphal at the best of times, and a third-hand version from someone’s aunt hardly seems to be the most reliable source. I’m sure Zeppo wouldn’t do a thing like that.” I stopped before I became too defensive. It was best to dismiss it. I closed the catalogue. “Anyway, if her taste in art was anything like Miriam’s, I couldn’t blame him if he had.”

We laughed.

The second piece of slander came from Zeppo, and was much more encouraging. I had not heard anything from him since Saturday, and suspected that his silence was a display of petulance after his loss of face. But by mid-week he had presumably licked his wounds enough to feel like talking to me again.

“It’s Donald,” I said when he answered the phone. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.” I kept my voice neutral.

“I’ve been away. I can go away, can’t I?”

“Of course. I simply wondered where you were. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days.”

“Well, now you have, so what’s your problem?”

His moodiness was beginning to annoy me. “The problem is that in future I would appreciate it if you would at least let me know when you’re planning to take a holiday.” I had not intended to argue, but I was not going to be spoken to like that.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. What would you like a written apology on your desk by tomorrow morning? With detention for spelling mistakes?”

“There’s no need to be facetious.”

“Stop acting as though you fucking own me then! If I want to go away for a day, or two days, or a fucking month I will, and I don’t expect you to get on my back about it! Okay?”

I was astonished by his outburst. “May I remind you that I’m paying you for this?”

“You’re paying me to do a job, and I’m doing it. I don’t have to take shit from you as well. If you’re going to start acting the big boss, you can find someone else to get into your girlfriend’s pants. If you can. Understand?”

I took a deep breath. I realised this was only Zeppo’s way of reasserting himself after Saturday. It was better to let it pass. I still had a trump card he was unaware of, but I was not going to throw it away in the heat of the moment. It would be all the sweeter when he finally realised that, whether he wanted to or not, he would do as I told him.

“I think you’ve made yourself perfectly clear,” I said.

“Good.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. I cleared my throat. “If you’ve got that out of your system, I called because I thought you ought to know Miriam came into the gallery yesterday.”

“So?”

“Apparently you used to be... acquainted... with a niece of one of her friends.” I repeated what she had told us about the razor blades. It immediately put him in a better mood.

“Christ, I’d forgotten all about that.” He laughed. “Shit, what was her name? Carol? Susan? I can’t remember. Did she use them?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Why should I? I was hardly going to phone her to see if she’d committed suicide, was I?”

“Well, she didn’t. Apparently the razor blades shocked her out of it.”

“Pity. I liked the idea of someone killing themself over me.”

“Yes, well, as sorry as I am to disappoint you, that’s not the main issue, is it? The point is that Anna knows about it.”

“So what?”

“So it hardly shows you in the best of lights, does it? We’ve spent all this time trying to create a good impression, and now this happens!”

“Donald, you worry too much. And you might have been trying to convince her that I’m nice and wholesome, but I haven’t. That doesn’t get you into bed with someone. The idea is to fire her with passion, not get her to vote me neighbour of the year.”

“Yes, but even so—”

“Trust me. It’ll only make me seem more exciting. Girls love bastards. All it’s going to do is make her more intrigued.” He paused, dramatically. “And from what I’ve been told about Marty, she’s probably desperate for somebody to give her a good time.”

I was clearly supposed to ask what that meant. I did.

“Can you remember the guy with dreadlocks on Saturday night?” he went on, appeased. “Well, he’s gay, and guess who he said he’s seen hanging around gay clubs?”

I was incredulous. “Marty?”

“Bingo.”

“Are you sure?”

“Stevie was. After you’d all gone he said he recognised him from a club called the Pink Flamingo.”

“Is he certain it was Marty?”

“He said so. He remembered him because he was always alone and never spoke to anyone. Just sat there by himself

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s homosexual, does it?”

Zeppo laughed. “If you can think of any other reason for going to a place where the waiters are topless and wear leather chaps, I’d like to hear it.”

I was prepared to believe almost anything of Marty. But this seemed too incredible. “Perhaps he didn’t realise it was a gay club.”

“Be serious.”

I still could not accept it. “But what about Anna?”

“What about her? He might be bi, or trying to go straight.” He chuckled. “Face it, Donald. Our Marty’s a closet queen.”

“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?”

I could not have agreed more. But before I could say so, she had already left the subject behind. “How’s the car, by the way?”

I struggled to keep up with this change of tack. “Oh, it’s... I’ve got it back from the garage, at last.”

She beamed. “Have you? Oh good.” She was walking towards me. “And what about the insurance? Have you heard anything from them, yet?”

I made a conscious effort not to step back as she advanced. “No, not yet. But—”

“No, neither have I. I was on to them the day before yesterday, to give them a rocket. They’re quick enough to take the money from you, but when it comes to paying it out again they don’t want to know, do they?”

“No, I suppose not.” I held my ground as she stood in front of me. Her perfume was cloying and thick, not at all like the cleaner fragrance of Anna. At the thought, I remembered that she should be back any second. Almost desperate, I wondered how I could get rid of the stupid woman before then.

“I managed to get the dolls’ house, by the way,” she said, while I was still wondering.

“The dolls’ house...?”

“From the auction. The one I saw you at.”

“Oh, I see... Oh, good.”

“Yes, I was quite pleased myself. I didn’t really expect to get it, but for once no one else seemed very interested. Well, not as interested as I was worried they would be, at least. It’s Victorian. Quite a beautiful little thing. In fact I’m by no means sure I want to sell it. It’s quite heartbreaking, sometimes, buying a piece you like only to have to sell it again. Still that’s what business is all about, isn’t it? I suppose you feel exactly the same way about some of your paintings.”

“Well, yes...” There were very few that appealed to me enough for me to want to keep them, but it was simpler to agree. I looked at my watch, hoping she would take the hint. It was already past the time when Anna should have returned.

“I’m sorry, I’m chattering away. Am I keeping you from your work?”

“Actually, I am expecting someone any second. A client.”

“Oh, I am sorry. You should have said.” She reached out and touched my arm as she apologised. I only just stopped myself from flinching away. “That’s my trouble. I’m a bit of a chatterbox. In case you haven’t noticed.” She laughed. “Anyway, I’ll not stay, I actually called in to see if I could treat you for lunch, or a coffee somewhere, but you’re obviously busy.”

Surprised, I was about to regretfully agree when the door opened again. I looked up. It was Anna.

She glanced at the woman and smiled a greeting.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s all right.” I was suddenly very conscious of the woman’s presence. She had turned and was smiling across at Anna. Reluctantly, I was about to introduce them, when I realised I could not remember the woman’s name.

“Anna, there’s a catalogue on my desk. Could you fetch it for me, please?” It was the only thing I could think of to save me from the imminent social embarrassment.

She was hanging up her coat. “Yes, of course.” With another smile at the woman, she went upstairs.

“That’s my assistant,” I said, needlessly.

“Pretty girl.” Again, she touched my arm. “Anyway, I’d better be getting off. I don’t want to be here when your client arrives. Next time I’m going to be in the city, I’ll give you a ring, shall I? Perhaps we can manage a coffee or something when you’ve more time.”

“Yes, of course.” I was prepared to say anything to be rid of her. I began to walk her to the door. She stopped in the doorway and offered me her hand.

“Nice seeing you again. And I do like the gallery, by the way. Very impressive.”

I smiled and said something or other in the way of thank you. Then, finally, she left. I closed the door, resisting the impulse to lock and bolt it behind her. As I went back into the gallery Anna was coming downstairs.

“I can’t find any catalogue on your desk, Donald. Are you sure it’s there?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’ll look for it later.”

“Was that a client?”

“Hardly. She’s the woman who ran into my car.”

“I thought you looked a bit flustered. Is everything okay?”

“Now she’s gone, yes. She offered to take me out for lunch.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Really?” She smiled. “Could be she wants more than just insurance.”

I felt a jolt of alarm. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re an eligible bachelor.”

I could feel blood rush into my cheeks. “Oh no, I don’t think it’s anything like that. No, I’m sure... oh, no.”

Anna was grinning. “Well, you never know. Is she married?”

“She must be, she has children.”

“Ah, but has she mentioned a husband?”

I thought back. I could not remember her saying anything about him. Anna laughed.

“Don’t look so horrified, Donald, I’m only kidding.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing like that.”

“No, I know. I was only kidding. Really.” She made a visible effort to stop smiling. I decided to change the subject, and with a start remembered where she had been.

“Nice lunch?” I asked.

“Yes, thanks.”

I waited for more, but she said nothing else. I tried to think of a way to sound her out further, but could not think of anything that did not sound suspicious. “I’ll be in the office,” I said.

I went back upstairs. I had told Zeppo to telephone me as soon as he could. I sat down behind my desk and waited for his call. The telephone rang almost immediately. I snatched it up.

“Hello?”

It was a customer. Struggling to hide my impatience, I dealt with the enquiry as quickly as I decently could and hung up. I waited again. Zeppo’s interpretation of ‘as soon as possible’ was apparently different to mine. It was almost an hour later before he called.

“How did it go?” I asked, breathlessly.

“I’ll tell you tonight.”

“But—”

“I’ll be at your place at seven.”

“Zeppo—!” I almost shouted, and heard a click as the connection was cut.

I banged down the receiver in frustration. I did not know what to think. It did not seem promising, but Zeppo was quite capable of tormenting me just for the fun of it. I picked up the telephone again and tried his number. There was no answer. He had either not called from home, or else he was ignoring me. Whichever, there was nothing I could do about it. I would have to wait until that evening.

I took two more indigestion tablets.