Don't Tell Eve (28 page)

The soap actor/ess imagined this appalling situation and her mascara, which had until then been holding up well, began to mingle with her tiny, delicate tears and trickle down her cheeks. ‘Alright, I promise, I promise. I’m sorry Phil – and I’m sorry about your fish. And the champagne.’

‘And what are you going to do now?’ asked Zoë.

‘Go home.’ With that, she slunk off into the crowd, in her haste bumping into a well-dressed older gentleman who offered her a fresh glass of champagne to cheer her up before suggesting that perhaps she might like to have a meal with him once the auction was over. After the drink, she fixed her makeup, accepted his offer and felt much better.

Meanwhile Phil, relieved to be out of the limelight, whispered to Zoë. ‘Now’s a good time, I think.’

Zoë was slightly taken aback, but she wasn’t about to turn him down.

‘I mean you should apologise to Jess now. But it’s good to know that you’ll be up for it later.’

‘I might have changed my mind by then.’

‘Oh, I doubt it.’

‘Okay, okay – and you’re right.’ Zoë then took a deep breath. ‘Jess, just hear me out.’

It seemed a fair request. Maybe Zoë had done her time.

‘And then you can throw your champagne at me.’

The corners of Jess’s mouth twitched for a moment. Zoë had to try harder than that.

Damn, thought Zoë, this isn’t going to be easy. ‘Here goes. I’m sorry, I really am. The thing is, I know what I did was wrong, but the reason I did it was right.’ That wasn’t quite how Phil had put it but she couldn’t exactly ask him to repeat his version. She pushed on. ‘I just wanted you to be happy. I really thought,’ she lowered her voice, ‘that Oliver was right for you. I thought the dolls would get him interested – it’s the truth and, hey, it’s worked, hasn’t it? I was just trying to help and I know I didn’t take what was important to you into account and for that, I’m sorry.’ She waited for a response. Jess did have a full glass in her hand again and knew how to use it. She also knew how much Zoë hated flat hair.

‘Bloody hell, Zed,’ said Jess. ‘I was going to have to start speaking to you again anyway, I was sick of all those damn lilies. My study’s like a funeral parlour – the things are fucking awful. And you know I like dark chocolate, not that anaemic milk stuff. What were you thinking?’

With that, Zoë knew her hair was safe. She also reconsidered the hidden cost of regifting.

‘I’m going to see how Kate is – she seemed a bit quiet,’ said Oliver.

‘I’ll come with you – I think I should.’ Jess tried to ignore the feeling the concern in Oliver’s voice induced in her. It wasn’t one she was proud of; after all Kate was in a vulnerable state.

‘Fuck, Jess, why didn’t you say so earlier? You sent her one?’

‘For a smart guy, you can be very slow. I assumed you’d worked it out already, and that’s why she was here. I was wondering why she hadn’t said anything.’ Now Jess felt even
more uncomfortable, and less proud of herself for feeling that way; what Oliver did in his private life wasn’t her business.

Still, she followed him as he moved as quickly as possible through the well-watered, canapé-nibbling crowd.

Kate was standing alone, staring at the tableau.

‘So, did it help?’ asked Jess, quietly.

‘Did it help?’ Kate considered the question. ‘You know, it did, in a strange way. But why do it? I don’t quite understand, I —’

Before she could finish the sentence an announcement was made. The auction was about to begin.

‘We can talk about this later,’ Jess whispered.

‘Okay,’ Kate whispered back, still looking confused.

As the three of them turned back to listen to the dealer, who had launched into his introductory spiel, a figure slithered in behind them and positioned herself next to the tableau.

After contemplating it for a moment, she placed a cigarette and box of matches on the table, then pulled out a small silver hip flask, a sleek, streamlined object bought especially for the occasion. Checking that everyone’s attention was focused on the dealer at the front of the room, she began to pour alcohol over the dolls. Not being a drinker, she hadn’t calculated on the smell being quite so strong – strong enough to make Oliver turn around.

Launching himself across the space between them, he managed to grab Hilary’s hand. She had already lit the match but not yet thrown it onto the tableau.

‘This is a non-smoking area,’ he said, coolly, blowing it out.

‘Why are you interfering?’ Hilary scowled at Oliver. She’d been right to be wary of those eyes.

‘If you knew the full story, you’d be glad I did,’ said Oliver, taking the matches and releasing Hilary’s wrist.

Saying nothing more, Hilary disappeared into the crowd. What did he mean ‘full story’? What else was there to know?

Oliver picked up the cigarettes and unexpectedly well-designed hip flask before rejoining Kate and Jess. Kate was caught up in her own thoughts, so she hadn’t noticed he’d even moved; Jess had seen exactly what had happened.

‘Fuck, that was close. I didn’t think she’d go as far as that. Where do you think she’s gone?’

‘Don’t know, to wherever she parked her broomstick?’

‘Shh!’ came the sound of a cross elderly female voice somewhere in front of them.

An hour into the proceedings, after the work of several name artists had attracted frenzied bidding and several other pieces had been passed in, the lot number for the dolls came up. The tableau was moved carefully to the front of the room.

The artist was described as having a wry appreciation of kitsch, folk art and design. The auctioneer also complimented her on her technique and mentioned the accompanying website, part of which could be glimpsed on the wall behind the figures, before commenting on the authentic cocktail party atmosphere of the piece. It wasn’t just the positions of the dolls, the groupings, but the
smell, the distinct smell of alcohol that emanated from the piece.

Hilary, who hadn’t left the building, felt her jaw muscles contract as the bidding opened. Identifying the artist would do no good. She just had to hope that it wouldn’t sell.

At first nothing happened and Jess considered asking Oliver for the hip flask, only she wasn’t sure what Hilary had put in it. It was entirely possible it wasn’t brandy or whisky or something drinkable. It didn’t smell like turps, although turps would have had a certain ironic aptness, if Hilary’d been successful. But she doubted Hilary would have had the imagination.

Then the first bid was made and as a whisper began to circulate, the figure quickly increased.

The lilac-haired old woman had the gallery assistant reluctantly bidding on her behalf, but she’d set a relatively low limit, as she didn’t really believe in buying at auction. She felt that the prices were too often inflated. Besides, it still wasn’t officially the work of JJ. ‘Blast,’ she said, as her limit was passed.

Close to her but not within earshot, David stood proudly with Zoë’s assistant. When his cousin had called him about the dolls, he’d given himself an early mark – Eve being out of the country and Hilary nowhere in sight – and had rushed to the gallery to inspect them.

The dealer had implied that they were by not just a ‘known’ artist, but one that David himself knew. As soon as he’d seen the tableau, and visited the accompanying website, David knew this was true. And despite not being personally acquainted with Eve, his girlfriend – she had let him use the term – adored the tableau. As it was being sold anonymously, David had assumed it would go for a reasonably low price,
so he was confident about his chances. He was a romantic, but careful with money, his not-inconsiderable inheritance not withstanding. He held up his paddle again as the bidding continued. ‘Damn.’ He turned to his girlfriend, ‘How much do you really want this?’

‘A lot,’ she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him in what he saw as a charming parody of seduction.

‘More than, say …’ He held up the paddle again. ‘More than, say, a piece of jewellery?’

‘What kind of jewellery?’

‘Depends – what kind do you want?’

‘What are you offering?’

He held up the paddle again. ‘What do you want?’

‘A ring.’

‘From me?’ asked David, eyes fixed on the auctioneer, voice steady.

‘Sure, why not?’ said Zoë’s PA.

‘You’d rather that than the dolls?’

‘If it’s a choice, then, yeah.’

When asked by the auctioneer if he wanted to continue, David shook his head. ‘It’s going to be a very nice ring.’

Zoë’s PA kissed him. ‘I’m probably too old to play with dolls anyway. But I can’t believe what’s happening here.’ She glanced around. ‘Did I tell you about Zoë’s “fan”? He’s standing over there, she pointed him out to me earlier.’

David followed the direction of his girlfriend’s eyes. ‘Over there? That’s poor Chris.’

‘You know him?’

‘He was one of our authors, terrific writer.’

‘He’s been sending her poems, flowers, chocolates, you name it – and Zoë’s been getting me to send them on to Jess, who’s pissed off with her. Not sure why – Zoë hasn’t said, which means it’s her fault.’ She stopped. ‘She keeps the poems, but the poor guy, he doesn’t have a chance. Cute
though. Amazing bone structure. Can’t believe I didn’t tell you this – but I guess we’ve had other things to do.’

David gave Chris a friendly nod, then turned his attention back to the auction.

There were just two bidders left, Justin and various others, including those who’d heard the rumour about the identity of ‘anonymous’, having now all dropped out. The remaining bidders were two gallery staff. One was bidding on behalf of someone on the other end of the phone, and the other on behalf of someone in the room. As the price continued to rise, the room fell silent and even those who had used the auction to catch up on news of family, house prices and corporate collapses stopped talking. All waited to see what would happen.

Distracting herself by wiggling her toes and wondering what a pedicure would feel like, and thinking that maybe it was time to have one when this was all over as she really should pay more attention to herself and why not start at the bottom, at least the feet, Jess couldn’t believe what was happening.

Her friends, meanwhile, were all trying – unsuccessfully – to locate the bidder. Only Jack saw the almost imperceptible nods Todd was making from time to time. When six figures were reached, one of the bidders pulled out and the tableau was sold.

The rest of the auction proceeded without Oliver, Phil, Kate or Zoë noticing any of it: they were too busy trying to figure out what had just happened. Besides Jess, only Jack had an idea and when Todd went over to speak to the staff member who had been doing his bidding, he followed.

‘Decided it was you who needed the moral support, not Jess, although she’s certainly getting it from Mr Perfect.’

‘No one’s perfect – and the time I’ll really be needing support is when she comes home.’ Todd had a mischievious look that Jack hadn’t seen before.

‘Or sees her credit card bill.’

‘And sees her credit card bill,’ corrected Todd.

After failing to destroy the dolls, and actually enhancing their ‘authenticity’, whatever that meant, Hilary was astounded at the level of the bidding. To her it was all a con – it wasn’t art. She wondered what people thought they were getting; who they thought had produced the work? She’d heard the rumour about that artist called JJ, but what if they knew it was just Jess? Her last chance was to discover the identity of the fool who now owned them.

‘It’s a private investor and I’m sorry, we don’t give out such details.’ The vile assistant answered Hilary’s query with what sounded like a rebuke.

While momentarily frustrating, it suggested to Hilary the possibility that things might work out – that the dolls might just quietly disappear, ending a disastrous episode.

As she moved towards the exit, exhausted, she noticed the art dealer talking to Jess. Out of habit, she positioned herself behind them.

‘I loved that final touch with the alcohol – what was it, by the way? And when did you do it, you naughty thing?’ he asked.

‘Ah, sorry, can’t tell you that.’

‘Okay, I won’t pry then.’ The art dealer smiled indulgently. ‘We do need to talk about this anonymous business. Everyone
knows, darling, so you might as well just stick with JJ – and please do some interviews. You can’t engineer opportunities like this! And do you think we can get our hands on the other ones?’