Page 158 of When We Were Young

‘Magical!’ he says.

Scott can’t stop grinning as we pack everything away until the installers arrive in the morning.

‘Come with me,’ says Pierre, ‘there are some things I want to show you.’

He takes us back to the atrium and stops in front of a bronze sculpture of a giant bunny.

‘What do you think?’ he asks me.

‘Is it Miffy? My daughter loved those books when she was small.’

Pierre laughs. ‘Yes, some guests call it “Scary Miffy”. Its proper name isUnder My Skinby Dutch artist Raphael Hermans. Are you familiar with his work?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘I must look him up.’

Pierre takes us on a tour of the entire hotel, stopping at all the various artworks around the building. He asks for my thoughts on each of them and by the end, I’m struggling to come up with anything intelligent to say.

Finally, he leads us back to the atrium, past Scary Miffy, and pauses by a staircase leading down to the spa in the basement. We stand before a bare brick wall. Scott and I exchange glances.

‘We need something here, no?’ Pierre looks at me like I’m the font of all art knowledge.

‘There’s certainly space here,’ I say.

‘Something like your feathery piece would look fabulous here. Do you have time to take on a new commission?’ asks Pierre.

My brain appears to be malfunctioning. I have no words.

‘You’re tied up with commissions until September, aren’t you, Emily?’ says Scott. ‘But perhaps after that?’

‘We only have a small budget for this,’ says Pierre. ‘Around ten thousand euros.’ He reads my hesitation as reluctance. ‘I could push it to twelve if I take some budget from next year?’

‘That could work, couldn’t it, Emily?’ Scott nudges.

‘I––’

‘You don’t need to commit now. Think about it and let me know if it’s something you would consider.’

As I stand in that glorious atrium, counting the eight storeys of brickwork up to the glass ceiling, I feel woozy. But gradually shapes and colours appear in my mind, snaking up the wall like a tree sprouting branches and leaves.

And the fear is tinged with excitement.

Chapter 75

September 1999

Scott waited on the balcony; he’d have had another cigarette, but he felt sick. It had been six weeks since he last saw Emily, almost seven. Why did she want to see him? Why did Miranda have to be out?

The buzz of the intercom startled him; he’d expected her to use her key. His hands were shaking as he lifted the handset and buzzed her up.

He ran to the bathroom and checked his reflection in the mirror. He squeezed a blob of toothpaste onto his finger and rubbed it over his teeth.

She knocked and he opened the door.

‘Hi,’ she said brightly, but she looked awful. Dark rings circled her eyes, and she was even thinner than before.

‘Hi.’ He pecked her on the cheek. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

‘Please.’ She followed him to the kitchen.