Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,105

that she had a … what had he said? Portfolio?

‘Well, obviously normally we do not consider work by someone who just walks in through the door, but your husband, he …’

‘Doesn’t take no for an answer?’

‘Forceful.’

More a force of nature, Erin thought, wondering what Francesco had done to make this man look as though he were recalling a fight with a grizzly with toothache.

‘Your husband is also a very difficult man to negotiate with—I’d say you are very lucky to have him as your agent.’

I have an agent?

‘He’s one of a kind,’ she agreed cautiously.

‘Mr Romanelli mentioned you were here and I was passing so I just dropped by to tell you how excited we are by your work. Really excited! That’s all I wanted to say. I hope you feel better soon.’

‘Thank you.’

It was two hours later when Francesco arrived. Two hours during which Erin had totally failed to unravel the riddle of the man with the beard.

‘I hear they are releasing you in the morning.’

‘Finally. I had a visitor this afternoon. A Peter Heyer.’

In the act of shrugging off his jacket, Francesco paused.

‘He is very excited, apparently.’

‘He is, it seemed to me, quite an excitable sort of man.’

‘I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. I have an agent … a portfolio …?’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Do you mind telling me what is going on?’

‘When I was at your studio—’

Erin, her eyes wide with amazement, cut across him. ‘You were at my studio. Why would you be?’

‘I was getting some things you asked for from your flat when I came across this very nice lady. She wanted the photos you did of her daughter’s wedding. She was, incidentally, most pleased with the results.

‘While I was there I came across some of your work … not the photographs which people pay you to take, not that they are not very competent.’

Erin knew he was talking about the boxes stacked from floor to ceiling in a cupboard.

‘They’re just for me. I’ve been snapping things since I was in my teens. I know it’s digital age and everything, but I—’

‘It is a criminal waste to hide away such works of art in a cupboard,’ he reproached her. ‘They are quite remarkable, Erin.’

‘You think so?’ His admiration gave her a warm feeling.

‘I do and I am not the only one. I was aware that Heyers have an upcoming exhibition at the end of the year showcasing new female talent right across the art spectrum. I took a selection of your work.’

‘I would never have had the guts to do that.’

‘I would never have had the talent to compose a picture that sets it apart. That makes it the one that people look at in a room of twenty others. And please resist the temptation to say something self-deprecating and humble,’ he continued. ‘You are good and it isn’t just my opinion. You heard what the man said … they are very excited. They clearly think that you are going to be the star of the show.’

Erin regarded him with a shaken fascination. ‘You really did that? For me?’ She couldn’t recall another time in her life when anyone had shown such faith in her ability, or for that matter as much interest!

At home her habit of walking around with a camera slung around her neck had been considered mildly eccentric. Her decision to make it her living had not gone down well at all. Her parents had not given up hope she would one day get a proper job.

One more suited to a woman.

‘All I did was show it to the right people.’ He dismissed his contribution with a shrug. ‘Your work deserves to be seen,’ he said as he walked over to the chessboard that had been set out on a table.

‘And don’t forget as agent I get ten per cent of everything you make so it is in my best interests to make sure you become a success.’

‘You really think people will buy my pictures?’ The idea still seemed vaguely surreal to Erin.

‘In their hordes, I shouldn’t wonder.’ He paused. ‘I was speaking to your doctor earlier …’

Her hand went to her stomach. ‘What about? There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

‘Quite the opposite. He’s extremely pleased with your progress and he sees no reason for us to delay our flight to Italy. We could go directly there tomorrow after they discharge you.’

She swallowed. ‘I didn’t expect that,’ she admitted. ‘Well, the alternative would seem