Page 16 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘So sorry I insulted you,’ Damien said, his voice oily with regret. ‘Please forgive me.’

Very good, Uriah Heep, crooned the Voice.

‘Actually, it’s okay,’ she replied. ‘I couldn’t give a damn who likes my work.’

‘Quite right. Art for art’s sake. But can I ask you one question?’

‘As long as you don’t ask anything that makes me think,’ she replied. ‘What I do know is that when tonight is over, I will be happy to go back to Moscow. All this bullshit about art. I paint from the heart and I don’t need the critics to tell me what I mean.’

‘I get that. And now may I ask the question… please?’ Damien said.

‘If you must,’ she said.

‘Do you hate having fun?’

‘I love being miserable.’

‘A true Russian,’ Damien said without any irony.

Olga proudly lifted her chin and stalked into the main room.

‘LISTEN,’ she commanded.

The guests fell silent.

‘How can I see the light when there is so much pain? Democracy is dead. Leaders talk about freedom, but the truth is it’s all lies. We are not in control of our lives. Money rules us. Today life without profit is worthless. We are slaves to the cash machine. We are living in dark times. Lost souls, all of us.’

Wow!said the Voice.Step away from this little lady’s toxic aura, Damien.Step away.

He noticed Sophie leaving with her man. She looked back and waved at him.

Too late,said the Voice.

A touch on his shoulder. He turned abruptly.

‘Hello,’ a woman said. ‘I can see you’ve had enough of the Krilova charm. You look as if you need a drink.’ She handed him a glass of wine. ‘I’m Claudia Madden.’ She smiled. And something in the directness of her gaze made him pause. Those ice-blue eyes.

‘Thank you,’ said Damien, accepting the glass. ‘I’m Damien Spur,’ he said.

‘The thriller writer.’

‘Yes, the very same. So, what do you think?’ he asked, gesturing with the wine glass to the miserable walls.

‘About the paintings? Not a single one here that I would choose,’ Claudia replied.

‘To be honest,’ Damien said, ‘I can’t imagine how she lives with herself.’

‘That’s very judgemental.’ Claudia gave him a challenging glance. ‘How do you know what she’s really like?’

Claudia’s right. There you go again,said the Voice.Whyassassinate the artist’s character? You’ve only just met her.

‘Actually, I think it’s part of her brand.’ Claudia took a sushi roll from a passing tray. ‘Depression paintings sell. Maybe it’s a case of “There but for the grace of God go I” or perhaps people buy the work because it expresses how they feel inside.’

‘Not my bag either way,’ Damien said. ‘So, Claudia, let me guess what you do…’ he said.

‘All right!’ she replied with a secretive smile. ‘You have one chance.’

‘Well, you talk so freely and I can see that you really connect with people, so maybe you’re a therapist?’

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