Page 79 of Milo
Niall is oblivious, shaking his head. “Not really. I’m fine looking at art. I just can’t stand all the analysing. It’s ridiculous. Like looking at page three ofThe Sunand trying to see the real picture behind it.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Niall, you’re a fucking Neanderthal.”
He grins and bites his lip. “You’re just jealous because you can’t do those picture puzzles.”
I groan. “No one can. They just say they have.” I shake my head. “All that time spent with your head on one side making your eyes go blurry; I’d have been quicker drinking a bottle of brandy again for those effects.”
Niall bursts out laughing, and I see Simeon eyeing us curiously as if we’re in the zoo.
“Are you okay?” I ask and he smiles.
“Fine. Just a few impressions I had that have been confirmed. Come and look at the pictures.”
The gallery is huge. It’s obviously two back-to-back shops that have been knocked through because it stretches far back.
“So these are local artists then?” I ask as we move through the crowd.
Simeon nods. “They’ve become very successful, but they all had their start here and they’ve done very well for themselves in London. One is a particular standout. His paintings go forthousands all the time and he’s just had his work shown at The Tate, so we’re very lucky.”
Something stirs in the back of my mind like the warning sound of a bell. I frown but the thought is gone, and I come back to the conversation to hear Niall asking Simeon something but his eyes are fixed on me. When I look at him, I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I mouth.
He relaxes, and I look up at the painting we’re standing in front of. The artist has painted a young man who’s extremely beautiful with long brown hair and big, doe-like eyes. He’s dressed in a thin robe that reveals as much as it conceals. The detail is extraordinary in that he looks so real, but the colours are all whites and blues so it actually looks as if he’s dead, which adds a disturbing edge. That elusive tug happens again, and I stare at the work. It’s perfect and undeniably beautiful but it’s cold, as if the artist has imitated feelings that he or she hasn’t got. Like a robot making human movements, it just looks wrong.
There’s no signature that I can see on the painting, and I’m just looking for the card when Simeon’s voice breaks my chain of thought. “I’m glad I’ve seen you, Milo.”
I turn to him, relieved for some reason not to look at that picture anymore. It disturbs me in an odd way. “Why?”
He steps closer. “I have an offer for you.”
I feel Niall stiffen at my side and I squeeze his hand. “What offer?”
He bites his lip, looking thoughtful. “I had all this planned out if I saw you again, but now I must admit I’m having second thoughts as to the wisdom of it.”
I look at Niall but he’s staring at Simeon, his head tilted to one side. However, he won’t butt in. I know that as surely as I know that he has a birthmark on his hip and that he’s ticklish on his back. I turn back to Simeon.
“Maybe you’d just better get it out,” I say, trying for a sure voice which must work because his expression lightens. He shoots Niall a somewhat apologetic look, which makes him stiffen, and then turns to me.
“I want to offer you a job.”
“What?”
He nods eagerly. “I’m opening an auction house and I need first-class restorers on my staff, and I can’t think of anyone better than you.”
“Me?”
He nods. “Yes. You’ve got a superb touch with art and you’re very well thought of in the business.”
Warmth kindles in my stomach that people think well of me despite my ignominious exit from the art world all those years ago. It must show on my face because I hear Niall inhale a sharp burst of air and Simeon leans forward eagerly.
“Where is the job?” I ask, feeling excitement run through me.
“London,” Simeon replies, and he must see me sag in disappointment because he starts talking quickly. “It would be so good for you, Milo. You could get your career back on track. You’d be working with the best people with access to some of the most beautiful works of art and doing what you’re supposed to be doing.”
“I’m happy doing what I am,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“You’re stultifying where you are. It’s like suffocating and it’s terrible. You should be at the centre of everything. You’ll work with the best materials.” He names a figure that makes my head spin. He grins at me coaxingly. “What do you say? Do you fancy coming back to where you belong?”
I stare at him. For a wild moment, I want to do it. I want that job. I want people to look at me and not think fuck-up. This is my chance to do what I’d set out to do all those years ago before Thomas and the way he changed me. I could finally make myparents proud. Then I look at Niall. He’s staring at Simeon, his eyes hooded and an indecipherable expression on his face.
