The SAS And The Glam That Goes With It

Chapter 9

Sam parked the car outside the health centre on Thursday evening without incident this time, but filled with aching nostalgia. She picked up her bags and noticed that a single knitted breast had rolled into the footwell of the passenger side. She picked it up and held it thoughtfully for a second, thinking about what might have been. Her new phone, with the old number transferred, had been by her side constantly, but the call never came and as time passed, her longing began to sour. Well I'm not grovelling to him. She thought. If he wants to be bitter: fine. She stuffed it into her bag and slammed the car door shut with a definite sense of finality in the action.

The next day, Vivianne called and pussy-footed around the conversation until she finally asked if Sam had heard from Price. When Sam said she hadn't, there was an awkward silence.

Vivianne sighed and then said "Well. Are you doing anything tomorrow evening?"

Sam thought for a minute. She had bought a pizza and a tub of luxury ice cream, quietly hoping she could fill the wound in her heart through the one in her stomach, but she wasn't going to admit to it. "Oh... nothing much."

"Fantastic!" she replied. "I'm having a thing at the gallery, it's a sale of the stuff I did in the Spring. There'll be eligible bachelors!" She trilled, in a sing-song voice.

"I really don't think-"

"Please? You don't have to buy anything, and I could do with having someone just to give me a tiny hand." She pined. "Marianne that does the shop has called in sick and everyone else is really busy-"

Sam sighed. She owed Vivianne. "All right. I'll be there."

She arrived at the gallery late and slightly breathless. The evening was stiflingly hot as she walked along the narrow streets, which had been left cobbled by someone who presumably hated stiletto heels. Not even the slightest breath of wind penetrated the stagnant, humid air between the ancient buildings. By the time she pushed open the door, she was sweating.

It was already filling up. The saleroom thronged with people of all shapes and sizes, milling around, gazing at the pictures, poking the ornaments and trying on the jewellery. Sam was surprised to find that the work was beautiful, and then she felt slightly guilty for presuming that they would be anything else. Vivianne had a unique style that rendered the landscape an almost fantastical quality. Sam recognised landmarks, land that she had seen with her own eyes, but seeing it how Vivianne saw it was something else entirely. She stopped aside a painting no bigger than an A4 sheet of paper: a magnificent stormy sky over the hills, wrought in shades of blue and grey. She turned the price tag over and her eyes widened. Perhaps I could get a print? She thought, biting her lip.

"Thank you so much for coming!" exclaimed Vivianne, appearing out of the crowd at Sam's elbow. Sam jumped. "Darling!" she wrapped one arm around her, the other keeping a glass of wine out of harm's way. Sam felt like she was being smothered to death as Vivianne planted a noisy kiss on her cheek.

Despite the heat, Vivianne appeared to be draped in cream silk. The fabric wrapped around her and then plunged away so that she was a ghost in satin. Unlike Sam, who could feel her makeup's resistance to gravity weakening, she looked fresh and elegant.

"So many people to introduce you to!" she said, spinning Sam round to face the room and then added in a conspiratorial whisper "Rhys Jones-Curtis, huge tracts of land." She nodded her head to a man in his early thirties, wearing a polo club shirt and chinos who was admiring a painting on the far wall. "Trying not to make it too obviously matchy-matchy, so going to deposit you in line of sight and make introductions later if he hasn't already taken the bait."