‘The butchery business is thriving. How’s the daubing business?’
‘Dismal.’ Luca took a sip of ice-cold Cobra. ‘I haven’t sold anything in ages.’
‘Are you okay for money?’
‘Fine,’ Luca answered hastily. He didn’t want Jonathan to think he was looking for a handout.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, absolutely. I did some work for the gallery this week.’ At least he’d managed to scrape together the money to get his electricity switched back on.
‘Well, you have your show coming up in September. Hopefully that will be your big breakthrough. We’re looking forward to it.’
‘You’re all coming?’
‘To your first solo show? Of course! We’re very proud of you, Luca.’
Luca was pretty sure Jacqueline wasn’t proud of him. He wouldn’t blame her. He had given her little enough reason to be.
‘How’s it coming along? Does it have a title? A theme?’
‘It doesn’t have a title yet, but it’s all about the way the model or subject is used, how the artist imposes meaning on the subject and controls the story, so the subject is silenced and possibly misrepresented. They have their story taken off them—’ He broke off. ‘Sorry,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘It’s hard to talk about it without sounding really wanky.’
‘It doesn’t sound, er… wanky at all.’ He frowned thoughtfully. ‘It sounds quite… personal.’
‘Anyway, the painting’s going really well at the moment.’
‘Glad to hear it. I’m sure big things will happen for you soon, Luca. You deserve it.’
They were interrupted by the arrival of the waiter with their food, silent while he unloaded dishes onto the table.
‘You haven’t been to the house in ages,’ Jonathan said, as he spooned curry onto his plate. ‘We hardly see you any more.’
Luca felt bad that Jonathan got shut out of his life by default because he couldn’t get on with Jacqueline. He liked Jonathan a lot. He was a good man – kind, caring and scrupulously fair. He had always tried to make it up to Luca for Jacqueline’s coldness towards him, intervening on his behalf if he felt she was being too harsh, trying to spend ‘quality time’ with him at weekends, making a special effort to play with him or take him on outings, just the two of them. But he worked long hours and he wasn’t around enough to make a real difference.
He wasn’t really Luca’s father ? Jacqueline had adopted him and his sister, Alina, on her own ? but he had been around from their first days in Ireland; he and Jacqueline had married six months later. Far from putting him off, the ready-made family had seemed to appeal to Jonathan, and he had thrown himself into the role of father enthusiastically and wholeheartedly.
‘I just think it’s probably better for everyone if I stay away.’
‘Nonsense,’ Jonathan said briskly. ‘We miss you.’
Luca occupied himself with scooping rice onto his plate and tearing naan bread, not knowing what to say to that.
‘You’ll be coming for Ali’s birthday, at least?’ Jonathan asked.
‘Yes, definitely.’
‘She’d be so disappointed if you didn’t.’
‘I know. I wouldn’t miss it.’ He couldn’t bear to let Ali down.
‘Good. Do you think you’ll be bringing anyone?’ Jonathan asked, clearly trying to sound casual, but Luca could hear the caginess in his voice, saw the effort he was making to appear offhand, as if he was unconcerned about the answer.
‘No,’ Luca said, with a crooked smile. He almost added ‘don’t worry’, because he knew exactly what had prompted the question and the wariness behind it. The last time he had gone to a party at his parents’ house – a New Year’s Eve party five or six years ago – he had brought with him a girl he had met in rehab. He hadn’t been seeing her, they weren’t even particular friends, and he had only brought her because he knew he could count on her to behave appallingly. She hadn’t let him down. In fact, she had far exceeded his expectations, projectile vomiting all over thebathroom and stealing cash from his mother’s dressing table before disappearing into the night in search of the nearest dealer. Luca still felt burning shame when he remembered it. He had wanted to upset Jacqueline and had succeeded spectacularly, but it had been the very definition of a hollow victory.
‘No, I’ll be coming on my own,’ he reiterated.
Jonathan simply nodded in acknowledgement, but the relief rolled off him in waves.
