“the floor is yours” kind of sweeping gesture.
“When she died,” Penny began, “Alys and two other artists were getting ready for an art exhibit. She was still young, early thirties, so this would likely have been her first major showing and it was to be held at the Walker Gallery, which would have been a big deal. It very likely would have launched her. I don’t know if the exhibit went ahead or not after her death, but I need to find that out.”
She paused for a moment to jot down a couple of sentences in her notebook and then looked at Victoria.
“It’s hard, isn’t it, to know what’s important and what isn’t? Does it matter whether the exhibit was held or not? I don’t know.”
“Neither do I. But go on.”
“Right. Where was I? Oh yes, the exhibition. Also showing their work were Millicent Mayhew and Cynthia Browning. I found a photo of them in the Echo and printed it off. It’s over there now on the board.” She gestured with her head in the direction of the sitting room. “Cynthia had big blond hair, and Millicent looked quite plain and ordinary. And then there was Andrew Peyton, who was the curator.”
“What’s a curator do, exactly?”
“He’s the person responsible for organizing the exhibit. He decides what pieces will be shown and in what order. He also determines the point of view or theme of the whole thing.”
“Doesn’t sound like that would take very long.”
“They can also be responsible for acquisitions and preservation of collections, so the job can be a bit broader. Anyway, this Andrew Peyton was the curator. So we need to find out about these three. We need to know if they’re still alive, where they are now, and if we can talk to them. I rang the art school today—it’s part of the university now—but the woman I talked to hadn’t heard of any of them.”
“So you had a good day at the library, though?”
“It wasn’t wasted, that’s for sure. But something struck me as I was leaving. The librarian switched off her computer.”
Victoria snorted. “Well, she would do, wouldn’t she? What about it?”
“It made me think back to the old days when women had typewriters, and at the end of the day there would be this little ritual about shaking out the plastic cover and placing it over the typewriter. That would be the signal that you were finished and going home.”
“And in the morning, she’d come into the office and pull the cover off the typewriter, and that would be the start of the day, I suppose.”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“I don’t know. I was just thinking about it, that’s all.”
“I’d be careful if I were you. You’re starting to sound really old.”
Penny laughed. “Am I? I guess I am. Anyway, what do I care? I’ve never even had a job where I had to use a typewriter. Can barely remember them, as a matter of fact. There was one in the background of that photo, though, and I guess that’s what made me think about this.”
She thought for a moment.
“Alwynne was saying something like that . . . sometimes the value in old photos is in the background details. Things like what people were wearing or what’s on the table.”
She shrugged and then began to twirl her pencil. She did not look at Victoria.
“What was she like, this woman you saw with Gareth? Was she young? Attractive?”
“Not as attractive as you, that’s for sure. Nothing special. In her late forties, maybe. I didn’t have that much time to look at her. But remember, Penny, things aren’t always what they seem. There may be a perfectly innocent explanation. You should be careful not to jump to conclusions.”
“Right!” said Penny. “Like she’d be his sister visiting from Cardiff, maybe.”
“Oh, does he have a sister in Cardiff? I didn’t know.”
A ghost of a smile crossed the corners of Penny’s mouth. “Oh, Victoria, I don’t know if he has a sister in Cardiff. I was just saying that as an example.”
“Oh, right.”
“Maybe it was the sex thing. I think he wanted to, and I wasn’t ready, so I guess he found himself someone who was up for it.”
“Oh, so you two haven’t actually . . .”
She blushed.
“Sorry! None of my business.”
Penny shook her head.
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, I do, I mean I did. But I’m a lot older now and my body isn’t what it used to be. Doesn’t look the way it used to. There are things I’m