Picture Imperfect - By Nicola Yeager Page 0,40
a relationship with me! We lived together, for god’s sake. If that’s what’s going on in your life, if you’ve got commitments, you don’t go off on holiday as if you’re nineteen and single. It was a mean thing to do, Mark. A mean, mean thing.’
He looks bashful. It used to be cute, but it damn well isn’t now. It’s slimy. He keeps looking me and up down all the time, which I’m now starting to find extremely annoying. It’s as if he thinks I’m dressed up like this for him. He stretches a hand out to touch my arm, but I pull away to avoid it.
‘Well, that’s partly why I decided to find you. To come here. Honestly, you look really gorgeous. I just thought, maybe we could make another go of it now you’re earning more money. It seems such a waste to have put such an investment into a relationship and to not get any dividends from it.’
‘What?! What did you say? What d’you think this is? Am I some bloody offshore company you’ve invested money in or something? I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’
I’m raising my voice. People are looking.
‘Well, in a way, yes. Yes you are.’ He looks at his shoes. ‘OK. I’ll be honest with you. Just to show good faith. There was a girl while we were away. It wasn’t either of Danny’s friends. Just a girl I met on the beach one day. Her name was Felicity. She was from Durham. It was just the one night. She wasn’t that clever, really. She wasn’t as good-looking as you. Not anywhere near. It wouldn’t have continued when we got back here. It was just a physical thing. You were so far away.’ He starts to get more assured, a nasty edge in his voice. ‘In a way, it was your fault. You didn’t keep up with me. Financially, I mean. If we’d been able to have holidays like that together, I’d never have been in that situation. It never would have happened. I would never have gone. But I’ll forgive you for that. Let’s just start again, like we’re meeting now, for the first time. Let’s put all that behind us. We can make it work this time.’
He tries to touch me again. I move away again.
‘So let me get this straight. You bonked someone called Felicity while you were on your holiday and this was fundamentally my fault because my earning power wasn’t as good as yours was at the time.’
‘Basically, yes.’
‘But you’ll forgive me.’
‘Yes.’
I was never a tomboy when I was in school. I liked girly things. I had many friends who had brothers that they used to play rough and tumble games with and who could hold their own in a fight. I was never one of those. But I guess I always had it in me, despite the lack of practice. And right now, I can feel anger coursing through every part of my body. The sort of anger that makes you clench your fists together. The sort of anger that needs immediate release.
Mark never saw the punch coming, so he didn’t put his hands up to protect his face. He dropped to the floor as if he was a string puppet that had just had all its strings cut simultaneously. He wasn’t unconscious, but he was pretty close. His hands covered his nose as he moaned and writhed on the floor. There was silence for a few seconds, and then everyone went back to chatting and eating, as if nothing had happened. That’s cool arty folk for you.
Just at that moment, Gavin and his friend walk in. Gavin takes a look at Mark’s prostrate figure and looks at me. ‘I didn’t mean it literally about the dominatrix thing, dear.’
The rest of the evening went pretty well. Several people expressed an interest in buying, which delighted Rhoda, though she confided in me that she wasn’t really that surprised, as my work was really very, very good.
After it had all finished and everything was being tidied up, Rhoda sauntered over to me, glass of Champagne in hand.
‘Can I just have a little word, sweetie?’
I feared this was coming. Some security guys who I didn’t even realise were there took Mark to the A&E department of St Mary’s Hospital. I guessed that Rhoda was none too pleased with the sight of her latest art star whacking someone in the face in full view of all those gentle gallery folk. Maybe this