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Unfortunately, such kindness was too late for Granny Izzy. ‘I’d love to go to Italy.’ I twirled a lock of hair around my finger.
I had given him an opening, and he took it. He spoke of Rome, the tiers of the Coliseum, and the terracotta roof tops of Florence. He painted with words the colours and textures of arid summers and dusty olive tree groves. He had a gift, I realised, for seeing things clearly in his head, like a photographic memory, and while my talent was to see a different time and embellish it with my senses, his was to reproduce exactly what he saw and breathe life into it.
I wished I could paint, then I would add those extra details I imagined, something I couldn’t do with photographs. There was something to connect us after all. If I could capture the realistic fabric of castles, he could bring them to life.
‘Ten-thirty, Middleham Castle,’ he said, leaving a couple of ten pound notes on the table. ‘I’ll see you then.’
I gathered my belongings and, as we parted company on the doorstep of the tearoom, I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to camp under the stars.
?
My arrival at the Richmond guest house was greeted with little interest. Nobody asked questions regarding the purpose of my visit, nor were there tales of deceased spouses, in fact there was no socialising with the owners, who disappeared the moment my luggage was deposited in the bedroom, and if I hadn’t met Joseph, I might have ended the day depressed by their lack of inquisitiveness. The place was purely functional, the decor overly simplistic, and since I wasn’t the only guest, the neighbouring floorboards creaked.
I was on the cusp of taking a hot bath when Yvette rang me back. As I relayed the events of the last few days, finally revealing the details I had kept to myself for fear Yvette might repeat them to my parents, she listened attentively, occasionally interrupting with a soft gasp or a request for me to repeat something. The quality of the line wasn’t great.
‘Don’t tell them, please.’
‘I won’t, although why you’re afraid is worrying. Has he threatened you?’
‘No,’ I said sharply.
‘But you don’t know if he’s telling the truth?’ Yvette punched through my dithering to the heart of the matter.
I blinked several times. ‘I think he is. But he doesn’t seem particularly concerned that we’re working on similar projects.’ I drew the curtains to block out the low sun before returning to sit on the edge of the king-size bed.
‘You had to think before answering.’
‘I’m not rushing to conclusions, that’s all.’
‘You want me to find out if he’s genuine or not?’
‘David has gone on holiday, and I don’t think I can reach him.’ I rather wished he wasn’t so confident of my abilities that he had simply upped and left me to it. He had sent two weeks’ worth of expenses in anticipation of his absence.
‘He’ll be back. He’ll have dissertations to mark, and next term to prepare.’
My patience was threadbare. I had to have the answers now. ‘I could try to reach Medici, but he’s supposedly in poor health, or so David has implied.’ David was blithely unaware of my dilemma and happy to absent himself. Was that because he knew I might ask awkward questions?
Yvette was equally reticent. ‘I can try to reach the art history department’s secretary, but if it’s the same jobsworth from when I was there, then you’ll not get anything personal out of him. My advice is to keep nudging this guy, and maybe something revealing will tumble out accidentally. Some clue that you’ll pick up on as to why he’s painting castles.’
‘I suppose,’ I said. ‘He’s adamant it’s just a gift, a portfolio for somebody. Do you know an agent called Camilla?’
The line crackled, and Yvette’s voice increasingly drifted into inaudible. The phone battery drained itself whenever faced with poor reception. I could ask to use the landline in the hallway, but I was half-undressed and loath to bother anyone. I pressed the device closer to my ear.
‘…agents, I only know advertising ones.’
I guessed the rest of her reply. ‘So you don’t have any ideas. How did David find out about me?’
‘…the exhibition, you mean… I can’t hear you.’
‘You encouraged me to go.’
‘You got the assignment on your own merits. He didn’t recognise me until I spoke to him.’
The line went uncomfortably silent. ‘Do you think he considered anyone else?’ I asked.
‘You were the only photographer exhibiting.’
There was a weariness in her voice that mirrored mine. I thought it unlikely Yvette would uncover anything about Joseph. Although he and I were linked in some way, the person directing us behind the scenes had made sure David wasn’t involved with Joseph. Medici’s schemes remained a mystery, and the only way to get to the bottom of the secrecy was to plough on with the assignment, and keep a close eye on my fellow artist. The idea cemented in my mind. Frankly, the flagging project needed fresh excitement to keep me occupied fully.
