‘Ooh, it’s wild out there,’ she said as I closed the door behind her. ‘We could be in for a quiet day.’
I glanced out at the rain bouncing off the cobbles. ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t come out in this if I didn’t have to.’
‘Latte for you,’ she said, handing me a drink. ‘And I got you one of these too.’
She passed me a paper bag from her handbag and I smiled at the millionaire’s shortbread inside. Tara made the best ones I’d ever tasted and my mouth was already watering.
‘Thank you. What do I owe you?’
‘Gosh, nothing! It’s my birthday so the treats are on me.’
‘Happy birthday! I didn’t realise. Are you doing anything special to celebrate?’
‘No plans. I’ve got nobody to celebrate with.’ She placed her drink on the counter. ‘I’ll just pop my bag upstairs. Back in a mo.’
We were big on celebrating birthdays in my family and I felt bad that I hadn’t realised it was Anastasia’s today. I’d have written her a card and bought the drinks and treats if I’d known. I glanced at the spinning rack of cards and shook my head. I’d nip out at lunchtime and buy her one from Forget-me-not Cards three doors along from the gallery and get Tara to sign it too.
‘So, that’s January over,’ Anastasia said as she rejoined me. ‘Are you pleased with how it went?’
‘Yes. I don’t have a true comparison point but sales were better than I’d expected.’
‘I thought sales were brilliant. In any one week in January, you made about six times the figures Galley’s Gallery made in the whole of the month. In fact, in the space of two months, you’ve already passed their figures for the ten months they traded.’
‘Was it really that bad? I’ve seen Galley’s work. He’s very talented.’
‘If I’m honest, his paintings weren’t mycup of tea but he’s a gifted artist and I can understand why he’s so successful. Unfortunately, Whitsborough Bay was the wrong location for his work.’
Award-winning Liverpool-based artist Mason Galley was such an inspiration to someone like me. He painted cityscapes and industrial settings which often included cartoon cats and dogs. His style was the opposite to mine – dark colours and sharp lines compared to my bright colours and curves – and he’d had phenomenal success through his city-centre galleries although I could see what Anastasia was saying about Whitsborough Bay being a bad fit. Galley’s settings wouldn’t have resonated with the people who lived or holidayed here, which was exactly the reason why I wanted to build my collections using local landmarks and settings.
‘It’s a pity it didn’t work out for him,’ I said. ‘I never like seeing a business fail. What was Galley like?’
Anastasia shrugged. ‘I never met him.’
‘He never came to the gallery? Not even for the opening or a new collection launch?’
She shook her head. ‘I think he was really hands off from the galleries. He had a team who managed it all for him so I saw them but never the man himself. You’ve got that part so right. Customers love meeting the person behind the art and, if you’re not down here, they get a buzz from knowing you’re upstairs creating.’
I got a lot from meeting customers myself, understanding which pieces they liked and why, where they displayed them, whether they chose pictures to match their colour scheme at home or whether it was the image itself or the message with it that drew them in.
‘Opening time!’ Anastasia turned the sign round and unlocked the door. ‘Brace yourself for the rush. If you want to go up to your studio, I’m happy to hold the fort.’
‘Not just yet. I want to discuss a couple of things first.’
‘Sounds ominous. You’re not going to fire me on my birthday, are you?’ She said it in a jovial tone with a smile on her face, but I could see the worry in her eyes.
‘Far from it,’ I assured her. ‘Firstly, I wanted to talk to you about social media. I know you’ve only posted on the account a handful of times but everything you’ve put has got much better traction than anything I’ve done. Do you like using the socials?’
‘Love it as long as I don’t have to appear in them. I hate having my photo taken. I’d have loved to do the socials for Galley but they wouldn’t let me. The account was run centrally and I sometimes got asked to send photos of the gallery, but I wasn’t allowed to post anything myself.’
‘That’s a shame, especially when you’re so good at it. If you had free rein here, what would you do?’
‘So many things! I’d do a mix of videos and stills, posts about the inspiration behind the pieces, footage of the real settings, stories about the crafters…’
I listened as Anastasia went into more detail and gave campaign ideas tied into particular dates and events.
‘You seem to know a lot about marketing and publicity. Is that what you did before you worked for Galley?’
To my shame, I didn’t know Anastasia’s background. When Tara recommended her for the job here, saying she’d managed Galley’s Gallery previously, I’d invited her for an informal chat. I’d explained that I couldn’t offer her a manager’s position but I would be looking for a Sunday manager/sales assistant if she’d consider that. She said she’d be happy to take anything if it meant being surrounded by beautiful artwork all day. We’d talked about her work ethic and how she dealt with customers and her answers had been strong so I’d offered her a full-time contract for December with the hours to bereviewed in January depending on how well the gallery did. I hadn’t actually seen her CV – hadn’t needed to.
