Mistral looks a little crestfallen at this.
"Put the kettle on, will you lad?" says Carlos. "I'm parched."
And it's as much to do with me not being able to refuse Carlos anything than all their faces looking at me with the doe eyes of apology or, dare I admit it, hope, that I swing the door open with a sigh and let them in.
Chapter twenty-three
Ed
"Haveyougotanybiscuits, dear boy?" asks Carlos as I place his tea in front of him.
With rents being on the exorbitant side of unreasonable in this part of Devon and my salary being on the unreasonable side of insulting, my kitchen is roughly the square footage of my welcome mat. So, with six grown adults crowded around the table and jammed into the corners, things are more than a little cosy.
When I open the cupboard to grab a packet of ginger nuts, Elly is able to lean forward from where she's standing and reach over me to select the packet of chocolate Hobnobs instead.
“Pickie,” says Jackson and reaches for them with pudgy hands.
“Soon, lovely boy,” says Elly, passing me the packet. “We need a plate first.”
Jackson lets out a small cry of protest, but seems to accept the logic of proper biscuit etiquette.
With it being summer, us packed in like sardines, and the prospect of the forthcoming uncomfortable conversation, the temperature has risen to a sticky thirty-two degrees in the tiny room.
"How about you bully me in the back garden?" I suggest.
As Jeanette protests that bullying is not the intention, and Elly retorts that it absolutely is and everyone here knows it, we shuffle off into the cool of the evening air in my marginally bigger back yard. Were it not for the converted shed I use as an office-cum-writing space, there'd be more than enough space for all of us.
Jackson happily explores, biscuit in hand.
"So, my love," says Jeanette. "To begin with, we know you have objections about writing the letters, which we understand. Don't we?"
She looks at the others who nod back.
"All of us have the same concerns. Some of us more than others." She laughs and throws a look at Mistral, who looks suitably contrite.
"But," says Elly, "it's worked so unbelievably, incredibly well."
"Better than we could have hoped for," adds Mistral who getsshushedby Jeanette.
"Lutek," says Elly, "can you please remind Mistral she's lucky to even be here with us and her only job is decoration?"
"Oh, um."
"Don't worry, Lutek," says Mistral. "I heard her." She mimes zipping her mouth closed.
"As I was saying," says Jeanette, who offers Mistral a version of her smile-frown, "it's worked to raise the profits of the gallery to a level we never dreamed of."
I should be stopping them right there. Telling them to drink their tea and go, but I need – I want – to get the full picture, because I want what's best for Bess. And right now Bess thinks the best thing is to make lots of money so she has options for ensuring the community is protected. "Bess says profit is at five hundred percent."
"Yes," says Jeanette, beaming. "Right?"
Lutek nods.
"So...what does that mean for all of you?" I ask.
Elly says, "I can put some decent money into paying off my student loan. I'm earning eighty percent of my café salary on top of my actual café salary, so if it keeps up, I’ll finally be debt free in another few months. I might even be able to save for a house deposit for me and Jacks. I mean –" she looks around the rest of the group. "– how can this not offer a way out of this mess?"
The warm tea in my stomach turns cold. This is so much bigger than Bess. What they're asking of me allows something life-changing to happen to all of the artists represented by the gallery. It's going to make it very difficult to look them in the eye and say, "Sorry, guys. It's still a 'no' from me."
