“Taxi. Well, Joe’s Taxi. He’s picking me up too.”
“It will be dark.” The crash had been in the dark.
“I know. But I have to work through this. I’ve been out with Michael once at the weekend.”
I laughed loudly, causing a few people to look my way. “You went out with my brother driving? That’s hilarious.”
“It was funny. He drove like he was a pensioner out on a Sunday.” There was a pause. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure if I’d manage to do it and I didn’t want to spoil your leaving party.”
“It’s fine. I kind of wish you were here. To meet my friends.”
“Really?” He sounded so surprised.
“They’d love to meet you. Nothing sinister, just they’ve heard me talk about you.” A lot. More and more each week. When I’d returned to work, I’d said very little about Gabe, not knowing if it was going to be a just a summer fling. But as the weeks had gone on, we’d talked more. Talked without the sex, without needing a physical release, although I was ready to re-explore that territory soon. Preferably in precisely eight sleeps time.
He laughed but there were no nerves wrinkling the sound. “Maybe I’ll come with you when you visit. Where are you going?”
We chatted for a few minutes about the plans for the evening. “How did it go then at the gallery?”
“They like my work. They’re planning on a show in January. There was one painting they especially liked – the one of you on the beach, the first one of you I painted.”
Words caught in my throat. At first, I’d struggled with that painting. Although I recognised me in it, it didn’t look the way I perceived myself. But as summer snuck by, the picture grew on me. The thought of it being on a stranger’s wall made me feel uptight and nervous.
“My Nan might like it. Could you give her first refusal?” My words came out in a rush, peppered with desperation.
Gabe laughed. He sounded knowing, as if he had achieved something.
“I’m not selling that painting, Anya. The gallery owner offered to buy it but I turned him down.”
I felt my chest feel a little less like it was about to explode. “How much for?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“Five figures.”
I inhaled deeply. No matter where in the five figures that was a lot of money. “You should sell it.”
He chuckled. “An, I don’t need to. And that picture is going up in my house when it’s finished. He’s bought another one for his personal collection, the one of the lighthouse at South Stack. Two dozen more are going on show in January.”
“That’s amazing.” It was. But I also knew he was talented and god, did he deserve this. “What about the tender for the other building – the manor?”
“Secured this morning by the company. It’s been a good couple of days.”
“I’m home next weekend.”
“Which will put this weekend to shame. I’m going to lose you.” I knew he meant the signal as his voice was already becoming hard to decipher. “Have a good night. Text me later.”
It was the first time he’d asked for me to make contact and it filled me with warmth.
* * *
Lorna was standingoutside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette as if her life depended on it. She was in full pin-up girl mode, enhancing every curve and inch as if her life depended on in.
“You’re late.” She pointed at me with her free hand.
“It’s my party and I can be late if I want to.”
