Page 15

Penzance

Paul’s morning pep talk about being firm with my uncle was wearing off as I walked through the showrooms, noting the large number of people on this Saturday morning who had come to the viewing.

It was Stephen’s success that had brought them here.

He’d kept the business afloat while Dad had slowly rebuilt the reputation of the fine art side of the business after my mistake had trashed it.

Local and national papers had had a great time with the story.

Family auction house misses genuine Cézanne.

The client had bought the painting at a car boot sale for a tenner.

Even to this day I remember telling him it shouldn’t go in the upcoming fine art sale.

It was good, very good, but I wouldn’t say it was a Cézanne without any provenance.

He wanted my father’s take on it, but he was away in Australia on holiday with Mum.

The client was impatient and wouldn’t wait.

Under pressure from both him and my uncle, I agreed to list the painting as Impressionist School, after Cézanne.

The hammer price was twelve thousand pounds, well over the estimate of five.

He was initially very pleased, until the new buyer did what I’d asked our client to do – to take the time and have the painting assessed by an expert.

Only a year later, it sold for a million.

Barton’s reputation was destroyed, I had a breakdown while trying to finish my thesis, and the client sued.

We won, but at the cost of our good name.

Stephen’s voice carried as he wished Marcia good morning.

I wanted to catch him before his meeting with Mrs George.

The accounts were vital to selling my mother’s and my shares in the business and resolving my father’s estate.

Every time I thought those words, I stopped breathing for a moment.

It just wasn’t real, but it was. There was nothing more I wanted in this moment than to talk to my father.

How would he handle my uncle? He could also tell me how best to help my mother.

Her behaviour was odd, even accounting for her grief.

When we were sorting the old house a few months ago, she’d made some strange comments that I’d put down at the time to the disruption of the move.

Now she was struggling with the loss of the love of her life.

It was hard to be without your partner. I missed Paul, who had made it lovingly clear where I should be, and it wasn’t Cornwall.

Twenty minutes ago, saying goodbye to Mum and Meg, I’d agreed with him.

But in this moment, with sunlight filling the showroom and glinting off the polished surfaces, I wasn’t so sure.

Stephen walked towards his office and I dashed after him. He swung around. ‘What are you doing here?’

I flinched at his tone, but I wouldn’t be put off. ‘I’m here to review the accounts.’

Marcia scooted by with Mrs George in tow, ushering her into Stephen’s office.

My uncle pushed past me. ‘Unless you’re bringing money or clients into the business, I have no time for you today.’

Mrs George gasped so loudly I’m certain everyone in the building heard.

The sooner this was sorted the better. But Stephen wasn’t making it easy.

He stuck his head back out of his office.

‘By the way, your partner made it clear that you’re vulnerable at the moment.

Go and have a spa day to treat your nerves. ’ He closed the door with a thud.

Paul had spoken to Stephen. No doubt he thought he was helping, but in one act of kindness he had taken away any remaining credibility I had. My uncle’s words had been heard by Marcia, several potential clients and two of the men who worked shifting the items for sale.

The clock in my father’s office chimed. Time was rushing past me and I was doing nothing. I went to his desk, picked up the phone and called my best friend. ‘Tash.’

‘Ren, hold on a sec.’ I heard her say something in muffled tones. ‘Right, your god-daughter was trying to put every stuffed animal in her room into her suitcase.’

‘Are you off somewhere?’ As soon as I asked the question, I felt like an idiot. It was the holidays.

‘It’s Easter break and the in-laws beckon.’ Her voice dropped away.

‘Oh.’ On the wall hung a print of my father’s favourite Laura Knight, At the Edge of the Cliff . The title could describe my life right now.

‘What’s up?’ Tash asked.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ I said quickly.

‘Don’t give me that crap.’

She wouldn’t stop asking if I didn’t reply. I knew that from our years of friendship. ‘I was hoping you were free and could give me a hand today at Harbour House.’

‘The one in Newlyn, the Georgian beauty?’ Her voice lifted in excitement.

‘Yes, that one. I need to do a full inventory for a sale.’

‘You tease, you know I can’t resist poking into old houses.’

‘True.’

‘Just today?’ The noise in the background was getting louder.

I bit my thumbnail. I could lie, but that wouldn’t help me. ‘If you could give me a day, that would be great, but realistically I think it will take longer.’

‘Hmm, let me have a word with himself and I’ll call you back.’

It was a big ask even if we had been talking to each other regularly, which we haven’t been.

We’d been best friends since nursery school and had lived through bullying, braces, bras and boys.

Boys had been the big thing. After Tash’s fiancé was killed in the Gulf eleven years ago, I didn’t leave her side until I knew she was strong enough to go on.

But now I didn’t know what was happening in her life, and part of me died inside at this thought.

Her help with Harbour House would make the task more fun, and importantly much quicker.

In our teenage years we used to work for Dad in the summer holidays doing just this sort of thing, and it would be good to spend some time with her again.

It had been too long, partly because Paul didn’t like her.

In his words she brought out my immature tendencies.

But he was fifteen years older than us and I imagine we did appear that way to him when we were together.

He was such a calming influence on me. His sense of humour was sophisticated and his charm with people like my mother was fabulous.

I envied his ease. I’d become so awkward and reclusive since the breakdown, but he ensured that I met interesting people to stimulate me in the right way.

He made it plain that if Tash was in London, he didn’t want me to see her, and he certainly wouldn’t.

I never understood, because I loved them both.

I could count on one hand how many times I’d seen my best friend and my god-daughter in the past few years.

This filled me with sadness. It wasn’t like they lived on the other side of the world.

My phone rang. It was Tash calling back.

‘Right, he’s agreed to go without me. Which means I am blissfully free for the next week at least. Can you swing by and pick me up, or shall I meet you there?’

‘You’re a star.’

‘I know.’

‘I’ll be there in ten.’

I heard her laughter as I hung up. As I gathered my things, Stephen was escorting Mrs George to the door. He sent me the filthiest look. I smiled, then waved to Marcia before I fled.

* * *

‘I’m all yours.’ Tash plonked herself down in the passenger seat. ‘Thank you for saving me from the in-laws.’

‘You love them really.’

‘I do, but I love them best at a distance. And it will give Gareth time alone with his parents, and with Annabelle.’ She clicked her seat belt on. ‘He’s been so busy lately that down time hasn’t existed for him.’

‘Every doctor is overworked these days.’

‘Too true, and paediatric consultants are no exception.’ Tash opened the sun roof and warm light flooded the car. Something like happiness filled me for a moment. My phone beeped. It was a text from Paul.

‘So I take it Meg is with your mother today?’

‘Thankfully, as I wouldn’t be able to do this otherwise.’

‘My mum saw yours the other day. She thought she was good considering.’

I turned out onto the road. ‘Things are getting worse not better with her. I don’t know what to do.

’ I drew a breath. ‘When I was home four months ago, she was low because of the house sale but she seemed to be improving physically. I asked Dad about it then and he sort of brushed over it.’ I stopped to let a pedestrian cross.

Dad had looked like he wanted to say something at the time, but he didn’t.

I’d put it down to him having so much on his mind.

‘Since he died, when people come to visit she perks up and puts on a convincing act, but as soon as the door closes, she collapses.’

‘Must be hard to see.’

‘In those moments she goes from something like her previous vivacious self to an old woman.’ How had my father coped? I should know, but I didn’t. That was the most awful thing. He never said and I hadn’t asked. Why hadn’t he mentioned it?

Tash put her hand on mine briefly. ‘I’m here for you, always have been.’

I swallowed hard. ‘True.’

She fiddled with the car radio until she stopped on a tune I hadn’t heard since we were sixteen. ‘God, I love BBC Cornwall for the way they keep pulling out these oldies.’

As we drove along the waterfront, we both bellowed out the lyrics to Katy Perry’s ‘I Kissed a Girl’ at the top of our lungs.

Neither of us could carry a tune, which was why at school we were always made to paint the scenery or sort lighting for any show that was being put on.

It cemented the close bond between us that I thought would never be broken, and yet I hadn’t been there for her brother’s wedding or her grandmother’s funeral.

I had missed these important things in her life and that left a hole inside me.