‘I want you to write to all the regulars.’ He begins to rifle through the sheets. ‘Explain the gallery’s closing for a couple of months for renovations. We’re looking at February and March. And get in touch with the press while you’re at it. I want them here for a shindig. I want to reveal the plans. And contact all the artists on the books. Explain everything to them.’ He picks up a card and waves it at Lucy. ‘There’s an exhibition at The Slade. We’ve been invited. Confirm my attendance, and Maya’s.’
‘Would you like me to wipe your arse while I’m at it?’ Lucy grins.
Well, I’m willing to bet Carla’s never spoken to him like that. I’m half-expecting him to sack her on the spot. Instead, his lips curl upwards.
‘No, thank you,’ he grins back. ‘I’ve got Maya to do that.’
‘Dan!’ I snap.
‘Sorry, darling.’
He goes back to searching through the paperwork.
‘Why are you in such a rush?’ I demand. ‘You don’t even own this place yet.’
‘As of next week, I do. Can’t rest on my laurels. And I need to go back into Fosters tomorrow.’
‘Already? One day off?’
‘It’s all I need.’
‘After what you’ve been through …’
‘There’s a lot to do, going public with the sale, negotiations, that sort of shit.’
I settle into a grump, wondering if he’s really changed at all. After everything that’s happened, after all the promises, it’s only Monday and he’s straight back into taking on the world at top speed. As soon as he woke up this morning, he was itching to get into Slaters.
‘What happened to smelling the roses?’ I ask.
He gazes up at me.
‘I meant it, every word of it. But I need to get things rolling.’ He takes hold of my hand. ‘And then I’ll slow down.’
‘And what about the operation?’
He shrugs. ‘I’ll slip it in.’
‘You promised.’
‘After Christmas.’ His eyes glimmer. ‘I want to enjoy some time with you first.’
‘How can you do that while you’re in pain?’
‘Pain?’ Lucy interrupts. ‘What pain?’
‘His leg,’ I explain. ‘Constant pain. He needs another operation …’
Before I can go any further, Dan’s speaking again.
‘I can deal with it. I don’t fancy another few weeks in plaster, not yet. There’s too much to do …’
‘January,’ I insist.
‘You can still work in a wheelchair,’ Lucy chirps.
Dan glares at her. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘Well, whatever,’ she glares back. ‘You’re getting it done. In January.’
Open-mouthed, he looks from Lucy to me, then back again.
‘Am I being ganged up on?’
‘You most definitely are,’ Lucy confirms. ‘And I’ll get Clive in on it too, if you’re not careful.’
‘Seems like you’ve got no choice,’ I add.
He slides the paperwork onto the desk and holds up his hands in defeat.
‘Fair enough. January.’
‘So.’ Lucy switches her attention to me. ‘Did you show him the studio?’
‘Yes.’
She claps her hands. ‘What did he think of the portraits?’
‘Fucking wonderful.’ Taking his feet off the desk, he sits up straight. ‘I want to show them.’
‘What?’ I gasp. ‘Where?’
‘Well, here of course. Before the renovation. On the press night.’
‘But …’
‘We do landscapes and seascapes,’ Lucy reminds him.
‘And now we do portraits. We’re branching out a little. Not too much.’ He stands up. ‘This is a new era, Lucy, and that means a few changes … and maybe a second gallery.’
‘What?’ I gasp again.
‘Don’t worry, sweet pea.’ He touches the end of my nose. ‘I’ll run it by you before I make any decisions. Now, shall we go upstairs?’
We find the Steves lounging together on a sofa. Without a care in the world, they’re busy studying an atlas.
‘Oh, here he is,’ Little Steve calls out. ‘He who shall not be named.’
‘Nice to see you too.’ Dan takes a seat opposite, motioning me into place next to him.
‘Good news. We’ve decided to forgive you. For everything.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘And your American friend.’
‘He’ll be pleased.’
Big Steve closes the atlas, shuffles over to let Lucy join him, and nudges Little Steve in the side.
‘Oh yes,’ Little Steve goes on, prompted by the nudge. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Dan, but I need to ask you something. Are you sure he’s not gay?’
‘Absolutely,’ Dan shoots back quickly.
‘It’s just that he dances like a queen.’
‘He’s not gay. Shall we change the subject?’
‘Mmm.’ Big Steve studies Dan’s face, evidently searching for signs of lying. ‘So, you two are getting married?’ he asks, evidently giving up.
‘Yes, we are. You’re invited, of course.’
‘We’ll be on the road.’ He taps the atlas. ‘But we’ll make the effort to come home for that. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m just glad our two favourite ladies are happy again. And we know Slaters is going to be safe in your hands, Daniel.’
Lucy coughs.
‘What’s up?’ Little Steve bristles.
‘He’s branching out … into portraits,’ she explains.
‘And?’ He turns to Dan. ‘I’m guessing you’ll be starting with Maya’s work.’
‘Correct.’
‘Well, I’m not surprised.’ He winks at me. ‘They’re incredible, darling.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I must say, I never thought you’d go in that direction, but maybe people are more your thing now. Feelings, experiences, humanity. It must be the Daniel Foster effect. You’ll be getting commissions,’ he states matter-of-factly.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
‘Trust me. I can smell success. And we ought to celebrate.’ He claps his hands and leans forward. ‘How about we close early and take a long liquid lunch?’
‘Can’t,’ Lucy answers. ‘Clivey’s taking me out for dinner.’
‘And neither can we,’ Dan adds. ‘Maya wants to go for a walk.’
‘A walk?’ Little Steve stares at me, aghast. ‘What’s that all about?’
‘Putting one foot in front of the other.’ I give
