As the woman says, "Basil Everett," the air erupts in blasts of colourful glitter.
Chapter thirty-nine
Bess
Itcan'tbe.Howcan this possibly be my real life?
Basil. Fucking. Bastard-face. Fucking. Everett.
The gorgeous man on the other end of that letter was one of the worst human beings to have ever had the privilege of being in my life.
"Oh God," says Ed as the shiny fucking confetti rains down in joyful abandon on this new turd-soaked reality.
"Fuuuuck," shouts Elly above the startled gasps. "Sorry everyone. Projectile dysfunction. It was meant to go off after the last auction closed."
A hand is laid on my arm. "Bess? Bess, look at me."
I do look at him. At Ed. Because I don't know what else to do in this moment.
He mouths the words, "I am so sorry." I know he's said them aloud, but I can't hear him. My senses seem to be shutting down.
I am not going to fucking faint like I'm some fragile and helpless being.
I need to take action.
I push past him and through the crowd to the gallery counter, grab the meths I use for cleaning and the lighter I use for lighting Anne-Marie's demo candles. Returning, I hand them to Ed, who looks at me in alarm before an expression of understanding settles across his features. Then I wrap my arms aroundA Lettered Manand pull with all my strength to detach him from his base.
It takes some wrestling and grunting and when he finally pulls free, I stagger back into the woman who just dropped the biggest bombshell of my life.
She braces herself against me and asks if I'm okay.
I'm not. I am very fucking not okay.
Heading to the stairs at the back of the building, I force people to scatter out of the way of the sculpture.
"Hey!" shouts The Odour from somewhere in the crowd, "What on earth's going on?"
I ignore him.
Ed charges forward and opens the door at the back of the kitchen for me, and then the one to the stairs. He grabs the bottom of the sculpture as I struggle to wield it up the confined space.
Ed’s voice is strained, having taken most of the weight. “I understand why you want to do this, Bess, but I have to check – are you absolutely sure? This is a two-million-pound answer to all your problems.”
My voice cracks as I say, “Basil Everett, Ed,” and it must be all he needs to hear, because he answers with, “Let’s do this, then.”
Footsteps clatter and two heads appear down the stairwell behind Ed.
"Bess?" calls Jeanette, followed by Elly's, "Oi, what's happening?"
When they don’t get an answer, they follow us up.
Moments later the door at the stair’s entrance opens and The Odour stands in its frame, peering up at us. "Bess, for goodness sake!" he shouts, clambering up the first few steps behind Jeanette and Elly. "What are you doing? The auction's about to close."
I ignore him. None of it matters any more except finding an end to this monstrous thing in my arms.
"Elly and Jeanette," Ed hisses. "Stop Theo from coming up the stairs."
"Why?" asks Elly.
