Page 24 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

‘Oh. Okay.’ There was a beat, then Edie spoke again, quite cheerfully. ‘But you do know there’d be publicity, don’t you? Julio would look after all that for you. Or rather Margot would. And your name would just explode onto the circuit.’ She laughed, but not unkindly.

Margot. The blonde French bob lady. It felt a bit odd that Edie was on first-name terms with her, and spoke comfortably about her and Julio, as if they were her friends. Which, I suppose they were, really — or at least colleagues. It all felt a bit intimidating to me and, not for the first time, I felt a little shiver of — I don’t know — unworthiness?

Did I really want my name to explode on the circuit? Was I even ready for that? It all sounded even more intimidating. Maybe if there was no publicity and I could just have a very small corner of the gallery, it would keep everyone happy.

To stall my thoroughly unwelcome thought process, I repeated, ‘Publicity? What — what would they do?’

‘There’d be adverts in the high-end magazines’ socials — Vogue, Vanity Fair, that sort of thing. And in the culture magazines. Oh, and there’d be adverts in Tube stations as well, of course. Just going by previous experiences,’ Edie replied chattily. ‘Julio likes to put a picture of the artist in the Tube station adverts. It does take a bit of getting used to, seeing yourself looking moody on the posters though.’ She laughed and I cringed.

Tube stations — me on a Tube station poster. Bleurgh! I can’t look moody at all.

Damien, on the other hand, would look fantastic. He had that sort of bone structure.

‘So loads of people would find out,’ continued Edie. ‘And there’d probably be a big opening party too, with the press invited.’ Her voice was sunny, but it made me shiver regardless. I am a little too introverted for all of that.

Maybe it’s something one could learn to be comfortable with? But the thought of how much this exhibition would hurl me out into the world also scared me.

I opened my mouth to say something — I didn’t know what. I felt I needed to justify my decision for not pursuing Julio’s right at that moment, but then Edie shrieked. ‘Oh Bean! Stop it. Come here. I’ll take that, thank you, Bean. Ninian!’ Edie hollered away from the phone. ‘Bean’s eating my big brush again. Can you come and get him? I need to get this background done today for the children’s charity auction. I’ll take him back later. Sorry — sorry, Matilda. Bean . . .’

She let the words drift away, and I imagined her watching her son as her partner came into the studio to remove the toddler, perhaps hoisting him up on his shoulders, laughing as he removed him from the room.

I had an image of that being me in a few years’ time — so good at what I did that I was patron of a charity like Edie was, and my work sold for thousands. I’d also be super-confident by then, of course.

But who was the Ninian-character in my fantasy?

A brief image of Damien came to mind, making me screw up my face and shake my head, even if nobody was there to see.

‘Shall we just marry each other if we get to forty and we’re both single?’ he’d said one night, mourning his latest break-up, and helped by too much alcohol.

‘Absolutely not,’ I’d responded.

‘Thank fuck for that,’ Damien had said, and gone back to his pint of ale.

The unpleasant image of Damien as a life partner was replaced suddenly by a picture of Jay coming into my non-existent studio and picking up my non-existent tot.

Even if I’d allowed that to play out without quashing the idea firmly, I knew I couldn’t see London outside my fantasy studio window.

It would be countryside.

And that wasn’t because I couldn’t imagine myself in London in a massive studio — I most definitely could. But I couldn’t imagine it because Jay wouldn’t be there with me.

My thoughts were getting too weird, even for myself.

‘Of course, if you do go ahead with this, I’d strongly recommend letting Damien know your plans as soon as possible.’ Edie’s voice brought me back to the present. ‘I mean, you don’t want to get into some sort of escalating rivalry with your friend. I spent years resenting Ninian, and it wasn’t very healthy.’

‘I guess not,’ I agreed. Edie’s feud with Ninian was well documented, and they often joked about it now in interviews and things. ‘But that was entirely different.’ I knew for sure I wasn’t going to, and certainly didn’t want to, end up with Damien — and God knew he didn’t want to end up with me either. But, if I snuck into Julio’s through the back-door, so to speak, it would, I was certain, spoil our friendship. It might not ruin it irrevocably — he was my best friend along with Rosie, but I didn’t want to test that theory. Damien had at least got his exhibition with Machismo off his own bat, and I couldn’t take that away from him.

Imagine that escalating rivalry: it would never, ever end . . .

Damien, aged thirty: ‘I’m on a Tube Station advert ha ha.’

Matilda, aged thirty: ‘I’m on three Tube Station adverts ha ha ha.’

Damien, aged thirty-one: ‘I’m on every Tube Station advert on the entire Central Line.’

Matilda, aged thirty-one: ‘Bog off . . .’

‘Maybe it was different,’ Edie said. ‘But have a think, won’t you?’ I could tell she was smiling. ‘Think about what’s really important to you, and what you really want to do.’ I appreciated her advice.