Page 100 of The English Professor

‘Fine—' I lie.

‘Really?’ Jack raises an eyebrow. ‘I know you’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.’

I take a sip of my coffee and sigh, ‘My whole life.’ I add, ‘It’s bittersweet. I still think about them sometimes. My paintings,’ I clarify. ‘They were my most beloved possessions. But here I am. They’re gone. I know they were probably worthless, but I still miss them.’

Jack nods quietly in understanding. When I finish my coffee he hands me my jacket, ‘Shall we head over?’

I nod and we leave the house.

It’s only a ten minute walk from Jack’s place, well, from our place now. It’s not quite as tidy as it used to be, with my clothes and cosmetics and art books strewn from one end of the house to the other. But Jack never says anything, he never complains.

It’s still warm but there’s a light breeze and the town centre looks spectacular in the early evening light, when the sun has just started to dip towards the horizon. The old buildings that surround the marketplace seem to soak up the light and reflect it back onto the streets. Normally I would just let my mind wander on a walk like this but today I feel a crushing nervousness. How am I going to speak if I’m this nervous?

As we walk down the hill of Potters Bank towards the gallery, hand in hand, I’m grateful for the skin-to-skin contact. Jack’s pulse is calm and measured and I try to let some of that calmness wash over me.

We go into the courtyard at the back entrance of the art gallery and Jack stops for a moment. He holds onto my hand, just as he’s done the whole walk over. He doesn’t say anything. He holds it firmly, using his thumbs to caress the skin, a message of comfort and reassurance without uttering a single word.

Then he heads inside, and I follow.

‘Try to enjoy yourself, Leyna,’ I say to myself under my breath.

The inside of the gallery is packed. I can see now that Candace had been right about hiring people to help with the opening. There is no way I could have done everything myself. She had also organised everything, from the advertising to the wine selection which was great because she is way better at things like this than I am. It also let me focus all my attention on picking the exhibition itself. I see her at the far end of the gallery, and she raises her wine glass. I give her a big smile and blow her a kiss.

I look at Jack and whisper to him, ‘Who are all these people?’ I see a few familiar faces in amongst the crowd. Some of Jack’s friends, Talia has come along with a number of people from the community youth artist group I mentor, and a few other local artists whose work is displayed this evening, but I’m shocked to see that so many others have turned up, too.

Jack bends down and quietly replies, ‘I’ve no idea. I invited a few people, but this is all you.’

Dalton comes over to us and says, ‘Great event, Leyna.’ He casually points at the paintings closest to Jack and I and says, ‘I really like these. I have been looking at them since I got here. There is something that draws me into them. A familiarity. I might be interested in buying these...’

I look at him quizzically. ‘Eh, Dalton, you do realise that these are actually yours. You already own these paintings. These are the ones that you asked me to sell on your behalf.’

Dalton smiles, ‘Oh, that makes sense. It also explains why they look so familiar.’

Jack starts to laugh. ‘That’s such a Dalton move.’

‘And they’ve sold. The commission from them will sustain the art gallery for a whole year. I can’t thank you enough for your generosity,’ I say.

‘My pleasure,’ Dalton replies. ‘These were a few I picked up from storage when I last visited my uncle.’

Jack says, ‘At Farnley Hall?’

Dalton nods and continues, ‘I’m sure he has the more expensive ones squirreled away somewhere. I bet I can dig a few more out for you.’

I try to hide my excitement as I think about what other paintings Dalton’s family have hidden away. But I also begin to wonder if Dalton’s family knows they’re being sold. I ask sheepishly, ‘Dalton, I assume your uncle knows you’re selling these?’

He shrugs. ‘These were mine to sell. My family, though, collectively owns hundreds.’

‘He’s an interesting character...’ I say to Jack as Dalton heads off to grab another glass of wine.

Jack smiles at me. ‘Don’t ask because I genuinely have no idea.’

‘What?’ I reply.

‘At some stage curiosity kicks in, and everyone wonders how wealthy Dalton and his family are. I’ve never asked and to be honest unless he is producing expensive artwork like today, you’d never know about Dalton’s family wealth.’

The evening passes by quickly. I spend most of my time shaking hands and thanking people. When I get a chance, I steal a quick look at Jack. He is standing laughing with Candace, Iain, and Bryony. He seems so at ease, so happy. When it gets to around eight o’clock, I feel I can’t delay the part of the evening I have been dreading the most any longer. I tap my wine glass and wave to get everyone’s attention. All of a sudden, all eyes in the gallery are on me.

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