AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How’s James?” I ask as we sit down.
“Very well indeed,” Jill replies brightly. “His artwork has really started to take off. Since that Whitechapel exhibition, he’s sold another six paintings and had two private commissions. Isn’t that great? If he keeps this up, he’ll have enough money to put a desposit on a flat after Christmas.”
“Wow, that’s wonderful news.”
“I know. Gavin and I are over the moon for him. Oh, that reminds me; we simply must have you and Nick around for dinner one day next week. I won’t take no for an answer, Carly. It will be our little thank you present.”
I smile tightly and take a swig of latte to calm my nerves. As I put down the cup, some of it spills on the table.
“Oppsy daisy!” Jill laughs, passing me a napkin to clear it up. “Those lids aren’t very secure, are they?”
“W-what do you need to thank us for?” I stammer.
“For supporting James and helping his career to take off. Honestly, Nick buying those paintings at the exhibition was a total godsend. It really helped give James a boost, especially in front of that journalist from the local paper. In fact, the guy was so impressed, he gave James a whole two-page spread in the colour magazine last Sunday. He also gave the show a great write-up.”
“Wow, it sounds like James is really going places,” I beam.
“Yes,” Jill agrees. “If you hold on a minute, I think I’ve got a copy of the article here with me somewhere.” Diving into her handbag, she fishes out a shiny magazine with well-thumbed pages. Flipping to the centre, she slides the glossy across the table. “Look, here it is …”
I pick it up and study a photo of James standing beside one of his canvasses. The headline reads:‘East End Boy Makes Good.’I smile warmly as I scan the first couple of paragraphs. The journalist has given James a glowing appraisal and predicts he will heading for great things. My smile widens. Despite all the dark events in my life, I’m happy his career is taking off.
When I’ve finished reading the article, I cast my eyes over some of the other photographs that were taken at the gallery. There’s one of Louise and Susan grinning like Cheshire Cats, holding champagne glasses and looking the worse for wear; another showing a group of elderly men gazing stoically at one of James’s naked Barbie doll paintings.
“This is great,” I say. “I’m so pleased for him.”
Just as I’m about to close the magazine, something odd catches my eye. Frowning, I home in on a photo in the left hand corner of the page. At first glance, there’s nothing remarkable about it; just a small, distant shot of the gallery hall and all the attendees laughing and talking. However, when I scrutinise all the different faces, I recognise myself standing beside James’s peacock painting. My face is tilted upwards, my eyes gazing adoringly at Nick. Only problem is, Nick isn’t there. In the place where he should be standing is a blank white spot.
I gasp and drop the magazine on the table.
“What’s wrong?” Jill frowns. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
My hands are shaking. “I-I’m fine. Listen, is it okay if I keep this magazine? Do you have other copies?”
“Of course you can, honey. Gavin bought six so we can afford to lose one.”
“Thanks.” Hastily, I fold it up and put it in my bag. “So, are you and Gavin all set for Christmas?”
Jill rolls her eyes. “Don’t get me started …”
For the rest of lunch, she tells me stories of Gavin’s ghastly mother and the nightmarish Christmas they had last year; but I’m only partially listening. I can’t stop thinking about that photograph. Why is there a white spot? Could it be a corruption on the original negative? Is it a trick of the light or is there something more sinister at play? Mentally, I tick off all the things I know about vampires. Along with an aversion to stakes and sunlight, apparently they cast no reflection. Perhaps Nick isn’t showing up in the picture because the dead cannot be photographed. So is this evidencefinallythat he is indeed a supernatural?
Once more I start to question my sanity, so much so that after lunch, I feign a headache and leave work early to pay my doctor a visit. All throughout the train journey, I study the photograph obsessively. I tell myself this is a mistake, yet another hallucination, but my gut instinct is telling me it isn’t. There’s something ominous about that white spot.
At quarter to four, I arrive at Lavender Hill Health Centre.
“I’d like to see Dr Wong,” I tell the lady behind reception. “I know I don’t have an appointment, but it’s an emergency. I’m on the verge of a breakdown and I have some serious concerns about the medication she prescribed me.”
The receptionist smiles and asks for my name and address. I tell her and she checks Dr Wong’s appointments calender on the computer. “Hmm. We don’t have any slots available today but if it’s an emergency, she just might be able to squeeze you in before closing time. I can’t make any promises, though.”
I nod eagerly. “That’s fine. I don’t care how long it takes; I just need to see her today.”
“Okay, take a seat over there and wait for your name to be called.”
“Thank you.”
I shuffle over to a bench in the waiting area and sit down. Riffling through my handbag, I pull out the magazine again and spend the next hour transfixed on the photograph. People are looking at me. I’m a bag of nerves and I can’t stop fidgeting. Finally, at half five, my name is called on the loudspeaker and I’m told to make my way to Dr Wong’s office.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
