Читать книгу Sunshine After the Rain: a feel good, laugh-out-loud romance - Daisy James - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Evie wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. For a moment, she remained motionless, her frozen brain cells unable to send the required signal to her legs to follow James into his office and make the appropriate apologies to Jaxx. But what explanation could she give? Why did the centrepiece of the exhibition not belong to Jaxx Benson? Contrary to Jaxx’s accusation she was not incompetent. She had checked the paperwork attached to the painting and James Bradbury had correctly endorsed it.

Her senses began to clear and she took a step towards James’s office, but before she could go any further Pippa reached her side and placed her hand on her forearm.

‘Evie, hang on …’

‘I’ve got to go in and explain …’

‘Explain what though? Do you even know what has just happened?’

‘No, but …’

‘Then what are you going to say in there? Trust me. You’ll be walking into a war zone. Did you see Jaxx Benson’s face? He was furious! Give James a chance to calm him down and find out what’s going on first. It’s just an unfortunate mix-up that could have happened in any busy gallery. That canvas must have been for the Garth Maddox exhibition next month. We both thought it was painted in a completely different style to the others in the Twisted Infinity collection, didn’t we?’

‘But it’s my fault, Pip, not James’s. I’ve got to go and apologize.’

Before Pippa could stop her, she sidestepped the milling crowd – most of whom were contemplating the canvas that had attracted such a reaction in a fresh light – took a deep breath, and pushed open the door into the office.

All eyes swung towards her. Her knees weakened and when she attempted to calm the raging cauldron of emotions whipping through her body, she felt light-headed. Her heart hammered against her ribcage in objection to her suppression of the fight-or-flight instinct and a large pebble-like object had become lodged in her throat. After a few seconds of silence, she managed to find her voice, but it sounded alien to her ears.

‘Mr Benson, please accept my …’

‘I have never been so humiliated in my life. Have you any idea how important this exhibition is to me?’

‘Of course. I …’

‘I thought this was a professionally run art gallery. I thought you understood what I was trying to say with my artwork. Instead, I arrive to find you have had the audacity to replace my best work with one of your own selection. Clearly my work is not good enough for you. If I hadn’t changed my mind and decided to attend my debut at the last minute, would the VIP guests have been ignorant of this switch? I demand an immediate explanation.’

Evie opened her mouth to speak but found she had no words. She had no idea how the substitution of the centrepiece had happened. Meanwhile, Jaxx was scrutinizing her reaction, his face a mask of fury, his eyes bulging from his now less-than-handsome face. A fleck of spittle had lodged at the corner of his mouth. He certainly bore little similarity to the famous rock star image that adorned the cover of the show’s glossy programme.

‘Please rest assured that the circumstances surrounding this unfortunate event will be investigated immediately …’ began James in his best conciliatory advocate’s voice.

‘Tell me this. Who is responsible for this whole fiasco?’ demanded Jaxx his eyes boring into Evie. The scorch of anger was so intense that she was forced to look away. But she knew Jaxx had every right to be outraged at what had happened.

‘As the owner of James Bradbury Art, the ultimate responsibility is mine,’ replied James, refusing to glance in Evie’s direction. ‘Now, if you would let me organize the removal of the …’

‘Hey! That’s my painting! Over there! “Muswell Musings”! Discarded like a used dishcloth.’

Jaxx pointed to the canvas that had been temporarily relegated to the office after the last-minute arrival of the new one. Evie met his eyes, ready to extend her profuse apologies once again, but shrunk from the venom she saw written in their depths.

‘I want her fired! If you don’t fire her right away, I’ll make sure this inconsequential little outfit never trades again. I’ll sue you for every penny you own for sabotaging my career before it has even begun!’

‘Mr Benson, there’s no need to …’ began James, holding up his palms to pacify the young artist’s mounting rage.

‘Do it! Do it now! Or I go out there and give an immediate press conference. The paparazzi will be just gagging for something like this.’

Jaxx Benson stood facing James, with his legs apart, his hands on his hips, and a challenge etched across his expression. A wave of nausea whipped through Evie’s abdomen and tears threatened to gather on her lashes. But she knew what she had to do. There was no other alternative.

‘It’s okay, James. Mr Benson, please believe me, I have no idea how this happened and I’m so, so sorry. You have every right to be angry.’

‘Evie, don’t …’ interrupted James, taking a step towards her.

‘No. What has happened is completely my fault and for that I have no alternative but to offer my resignation. There is no need for Mr Benson to give his threatened statement to the press. Perhaps you can begin to rectify the situation by exchanging the canvases and moving on with the rest of the evening. I hope if you explain that what has happened was totally my error, and that I have stepped down from my position with immediate effect, then if not the opening night, the rest of the exhibition can be salvaged.’

‘Evie, you don’t have to …’

‘Yes, she does,’ said Jaxx’s agent, a beanpole-thin man in a tightly fitted Savile Row suit, sporting a bouffant hairstyle, which he patted sporadically as he spoke. ‘It’s the only solution. Perhaps if Ms Johnson were to leave the premises this unfortunate situation can be defused and we can get on with the point of the evening, which is to sell as many of Jaxx’s canvases as possible?’

Evie stared at the man and could swear she saw pound signs rolling round his eyes like a rampant fruit machine. Clearly his fifteen per cent was at risk. She offered James a tight smile.

‘I’ll leave straight away.’

She turned on her stilettos and made for the door. As she wrenched it open she came face to face with a pale-faced Pippa who had been loitering just outside.

‘You can’t resign, Evie! You love it here. It’s your dream job. And there’s no way I can run the gallery without you – and, more to the point, I don’t want to. Please, go back in there and grovel, do whatever you have to do, just don’t go!’

‘I don’t have a choice, Pip. If you listened in on the whole conversation, you will have heard Jaxx threatened to sue, to close down the gallery, to damage Bradbury’s reputation. I can’t do that to James – but most of all, I can’t do that to Esme’s memory and all the struggling artists who rely on her generosity to display their work here. I can’t have that on my conscience. I have to get out of here before I bite someone’s head off, but I’ll call you tomorrow.’

Evie strode with as much dignity as she could muster to collect her handbag and make her way to the rear exit where she slipped out – unnoticed by the animated throng – from the gallery that had been her whole world for the last two years. Devastation, mortification, and anger gnawed at her abdomen in equal measures and she rued the fact that the compassionate director of her biopic was clearly missing in action that evening.