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Elda closed her eyes, imagining Charlie’s face within reach of a kiss. The fiction was disturbed by a knock at the studio door. Elda looked up to see Francis in the doorway.
“Hi, do you have time to talk?”
“Sure, is everything all right at the mill? I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“All is well. I just wanted to see you.”
Elda’s heart sank. She’d been ripped from an enticing reverie and now had to give Francis her full attention. “What can I do for you?”
Francis stepped into the space with what she now recognised as his usual swagger.“I got talking to someone important last night.”
“Really? At the exhibition?”
“Yes. He’d come to see your work, among others.”
Pride fluttered across Elda’s chest, making her sit up straighter. She bit her lip.
“He knew my work from London and Paris before that.”
“Okay, that’s exciting. What does he do?”
“His name is Claude Pelleterie. Have you heard of him?”
“No.” Elda admitted her ignorance, irritated that Francis seemed to like showing her up.
“He’s an academic in Paris. At one of the best universities.” Francis took another step and pulled his hands from his pockets.“He offered me a position as a senior curator, along with a professorship.”
“In Paris? Congratulations. That’s fantastic.” She twisted on the sofa, and he took up the space beside her.
“There’s more. He’d like me to build a team.” He gripped her arm. “You could be a practising artist and have a teaching position in the faculty.”
“Goodness, that’s a lot to take in. Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked, feeling somewhat ambushed.
“Why not?”
He was offering her a dream job. She knew it. But her thoughts whirled like a tornado, and she swallowed back the taste of fear. Right in the eye of the storm was Charlie. She thought of the previous day at the park. She cherished the time she had with Charlie, like she finally belonged somewhere. Could she abandon that feeling for the career opportunity of a lifetime? She stroked the fragile edge of a teabag as the water re-boiled. “I’ve never thought about working in Paris.”
“Every artist wants to work in Paris.”
Ouch.“Yeah, I know. I suppose it’s all come as a bit of a shock.” She stumbled, not wanting Francis to think less of her. She stood taller, nervous energy pumping through her muscles. Art was her dream career. Until now, that’s all it had been, a hope that she tended to every now and again. She’d never expected for it to bloom into something so real and living.
“You need to sit down and then we can sort it all out,” he said.
Nausea rose through Elda’s chest, and she touched her clammy cheeks, pinching colour into them. Frustration bubbled in her stomach. She wanted to cut her own path. But Francis could sweep her along with his career, and she would let him. She’d been following him around for the past few weeks, not knowing what was going to happen next. Elda had no plan of her own. She never really had. It was why she’d drifted at college and followed Jack into a terrible office job. Now, following Francis seemed like the obvious choice, but the thought of not having Charlie in her life was crushing, as was the thought of saying goodbye.
Chapter Eleven
“Can we win the case?” The man peered at Charlie over a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles.
She breathed in and looked away from the spots clustered under his stubble. “No one really wins these cases. These are the nasty ones, where children are taken from families, and everyone takes a lifetime to recover from the trauma.”
“Yeah, but will we win?”
“With me as your barrister, and with a reasonable judge, yes.” Charlie’s ribs contracted as she hid her impatience. Her client rose to his feet, but she stayed rooted to the chair. She wasn’t going to grace him with her finest manners.
The door opened, and Joshua led him away. A few minutes later, he returned with a fully loaded bagel and a steaming mug of tea.
“You lifesaver.” Food tumbled from her mouth, and she wiped it with the back of her hand. “I need a break from child protection. Can you line up a couple of custodies next?” She was joking, but he’d work his magic with her caseload. She wanted to carve out more free time in her schedule.
