Page 110 of Playing for Keeps

Amusement shot over his face. But he obligingly held out his fist and bumped the screen as I bumped mine.

“Give Char a hug from me,” he said.

“Will do. And good luck.”

I ended the phone call and took a deep breath. Shit, I wished I could at least be in the stadium so he knew I was there in the stands supporting him.

Theo watched me with a wrinkled forehead.

I plastered on a smile. “Right, are we ready to go show Mummy how good we both look?”

* * *

It turned out an art gallery wasn’t really my comfort zone.

Fish out of water? I was more like a fish who’d suddenly found himself stranded on Mars.

Trips to art galleries hadn’t exactly featured as part of my childhood. I tried to remember what had been on the walls of my house growing up. There had been some ragged movie posters my mum must have grabbed from the video store’s poster bin, back when video stores were still a thing. Batman fromThe Dark Nighthad shared a wall with glittery vampires fromTwilight, leaving our living room stuck in a time warp circa 2008.

My mother’s boyfriend at the time, Jasper-the-dickhead, had ripped the bottom half ofThe Boy in the Striped Pajamasposter down when he was in a rage, leaving a jagged edge with only the title and the barbed wire fence. Which I guess you could claim was an artistic statement but not quite on the same level as the art on display tonight.

Char’s paintings were good, but I really didn’t understand some of the other art. One piece reminded me of the melted mess I’d discovered after Theo had left his crayons in the car on a hot day.

“Don’t touch anything,” I whispered to Theo as we walked through the gallery looking for Char. It would be just my luck to get stuck with some painting I had to buy because he’d left a finger mark on it.

Theo obediently put his hands in his suit pockets. I felt a rush of love for my son. He was so much better behaved than I’d been growing up. Not sure if that was the only reason I hadn’t been taken to art galleries or museums, but chances were it had been a factor.

I finally spotted Char when we reached the second room. She was wearing a flowy red dress and had her hair down. I almost gave a start when I saw her. I was so used to seeing Char in her ‘mum’ mode, dressed in T-shirt and jeans, her hair scraped back into a messy ponytail. Seeing her tonight reminded me how beautiful she was.

She gave a huge smile when she saw us and came over to give Theo a big hug.

“You smell nice,” Theo told her.

“Thank you.”

“This is amazing,” I said, looking around at all the people mingling and sipping glasses of champagne. “It’s so cool you’re included here.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “And thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“No worries.” I said the words easily, although if I was being honest, as much as I wanted to support Char, a large part of me still wished I was in Wellington right now.

Char tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“They’re about to do the formal opening part and I’ve got to give a speech. Can you record it on your phone so I can send it to Mum and Dad?”

“Of course.”

Char gave a nervous smile.

“You’ll be fine,” I said. It looked like that was my job tonight, reassuring the Hunter twins of their awesomeness.

There was a tinkling sound of someone tapping a champagne flute with a fork, which I knew was the posh people signal that said formalities were about to begin.

A few people spoke first, then it was Char’s turn. I held my phone up to record her.

She spoke for only a minute, thanking the gallery for hosting her and talking a little about her inspiration for her paintings.