right,’ nods Daniel. ‘It’s another painting.’
‘Well, would you believe it,’ gapes Magda. ‘Aunt Irena always did say appearances could be deceptive.’
‘I wonder what it is,’ muses Daniel.
‘Well, there’s only one way to find out.’ I glance across at Magda. ‘May I?’
She throws her hands in the air as if to say, Sure, go ahead, and so, taking a deep breath, I tear back the tattered canvas of the clown, with its gaudy colours and amateurish brushstrokes, to reveal a whole new painting. A naked portrait of a woman, reclining on a cushion, while cherubic angels dance around her.
‘That’s kinda nice,’ murmurs Daniel with approval, but I can’t reply. My heart is thumping so loudly in my ears I feel dizzy.
The distinctive muted colours. The familiar religious subject. It can’t be. It just can’t be . . .With trembling fingers I turn it to the light and peer at the initials in the far corner. It is.
‘Oh my God,’ I gasp, my voice barely a whisper.
‘What is it?’ asks Magda.
‘Your aunt was right, appearances can be deceptive.’ Turning to her, I can barely say the words. ‘It’s a Titian.’
After that it’s bedlam. Daniel’s straight on the phone to a renowned art expert at an auction house, Magda has to sit down before she falls down, and I just stare dumbfounded at a priceless masterpiece. I can’t believe that it’s been here all this time, propped up in the back office, being completely ignored, and would have probably remained stuffed somewhere out of sight for years unless Daniel had fallen against it.
It’s like finding you’ve got the winning lottery ticket. If it’s genuine, it will be worth millions. I mean, just imagine. It will be the answers to all Magda’s prayers. It will change everything!
With all the excitement at the gallery, I lose track of time and it’s only at the last minute I remember that the play Robyn gave me the tickets for is tonight. I’d almost forgotten. Reminded, I leave work and head to the theatre.
Despite everything, I’m actually quite looking forward to it. I managed to sell the spare ticket yesterday for a whopping hundred and fifty dollars, as it’s supposed to be a really good play and all the tickets are sold out, so it will be a good distraction from everything. It will be nice to lose myself for a couple of hours in a totally different world.
One that doesn’t involve Nathaniel Kennedy, I muse, glancing at my phone and toying with the idea of giving it one more try. I check my watch. I’ve got a few minutes before the play starts. It’s worth a shot. Dialling his number, I wait for it to connect. He probably won’t pick up, I tell myself, listening to it ringing. He’s probably screening his calls.
‘If this is to ask me to go to Venice again, the answer is still no,’ barks Nate, picking up.
We dispensed with the ‘hello’s and the ‘how are you’s quite some time ago.
‘Nate, please, just listen—’ I try persuading, but he cuts me off.
‘Lucy, how many more times?’
I heave a sigh, struggling to remain calm. ‘Look, I know you think this is a bad idea.’
‘I think it’s probably the worst idea you’ve ever had,’ he huffs down the phone, ‘and that’s saying something.’
I feel a twinge of annoyance crank up a notch. ‘I really think you should think about it,’ I reason.
Unknown
‘I have thought about it and the answer is no.’
I check my watch. Damn, the play’s about to start. I need to go in.
‘Hang on,’ I hiss into my phone, and hiding it under my jacket, I give my ticket to the usher and walk inside the theatre. I’m momentarily taken aback. Wow, it’s impr„€€ face [ imessive. I feel a buzz. A real Broadway play. How exciting. ‘Sorry, where was I?’ I say, retrieving my phone.
‘You were hanging up,’ deadpans Nate.
‘And that’s it? You’re not going to change your mind?’ I begin walking down the aisle, checking the letters on each row.
‘What part of “I’m not going to Venice” do you not understand?’
Finding my row, I start shuffling down it towards my seat number. I’ve got to get him to change his mind, but how? How?
‘Anyway, I’ve got to go,’ he snaps.
‘No, wait. What about the cab the other day?’ Excusing myself to the people already sitting down, I head towards the middle, where I can see two empty seats.
‘What about it?’
‘We’ve got to make it stop, once and for all, otherwise you