A Crown of Clouds

Chapter 8

I never thought I could be so excited to leave the bakery, who would have thought I'd be watching the minutes tick by, eager to leave my safe haven. I flung off my apron and hung it on its hook, running to the door I yelled over my shoulder, "au revoir, see you tomorrow Pilsby!" Flipping the open sign to 'closed' on my way out, clanging the bells on the door; music to my mischievous mind.

I'd dusted off my old bike after being pleasantly surprised with how much I loved it the other day with Alex. I considered running - way too slow for where I needed to be right now. The wind whirled on by, as though it were in more of a hurry than I. Pedalling my feet fast and squinting my eyes from the wind, my muscles started to burn again, I embraced the burning sensation and rode the rest of the hour to the Gallery, keeping up my speed as best I could.

Alex said he had classes all day and assessments to do all night. He suggested I wait a day to go to the gallery so he could help me, I'd agreed reluctantly...yet the moment I left for the bakery, I knew I couldn't wait that long. I'd go and steal the key myself, or at least I'd try, I had to...I had to know what was inside this box.

Locking up my bike, I pulled out my most formal checkered blazer from my bag, opting for a classier leather backpack today. I slung the jacket over my casual black dress and black boots, this gallery was bound to have a dress code, and I wouldn't let anything stop me, not today! I patted down the creases of the jacket, it seemed exercise for distracting my mind had been replaced by the thrill of breaking the law. I had nothing to lose anyhow, that somehow seemed to keep my nerves at bay. Making sure nobody was watching, I quickly placed some glasses on and whacked my black fiddler cap on, "think Classy Hal."

"Good evening ma'am, did you need a map of the gallery?" The girl was no older than fifteen. "Yes please, thank you!" I replied, keeping my voice low and barely looking up as I tipped my cap lower than normal before entering, if there were any cameras, I'd be prepared. "We close in one hour, enjoy!" I didn't even acknowledge her this time, I'd have felt bad were it not for the reason I was here.

I tried to slow my walk to a moseying pace, one that would reflect someone taking in every detail, paint stroke and colour. My Mother's paintings must have been moved since our visit here eight months ago. That's when she'd received the news that they were on display. 

Rounding the corner from the place where the paintings should have been, I took three deep breaths. I had thirty minutes to find and steal this key, and the damn painting had been moved. I picked up my pace a little, passing people and heading out. twenty minutes passed as I scanned wall after wall. Then I found them, in all their quirk and glory, all fifty small canvases sitting on the wall. I could see two guards watching me, and then a few passersby, one stood in the centre of the two rooms that were divided by a wall, art hanging on both sides, the other stood in the room beyond the one I stood in. Admiring my mother's handiwork, I scanned each little canvas, searching like a metal detector for the treasure... I'd need to know where it was before I committed a felony.

Where the hell did you even find this many keys mother dear, I thought, as I scanned canvas after canvas. I caught the glimmer of the golden key in the light, funny, I thought, how I'd never noticed this was the only golden key mother had put on the painting, the rest being silver or copper. It was so unusual in shape that it made it easy to spot, thank the lord, otherwise that would have been like finding a needle in a haystack. I dawdled back to the other room beside my mother's paintings, scanning the room where I found my mark. I stared into a painting of a dancing lady dressed in red, not so different to how I felt right now, although no doubt a little more fearful than she, I thought.

I used my peripherals to monitor the guard's eye line as an elderly couple walked through the room and into the one beyond my mother's paintings. Now - I had to act now. I slipped my scissors out of my jacket pocket and moved swiftly to cut the string holding the lady in red up high. She came down in a mighty crash, I'd even managed to frighten myself as it came down faster and louder than anticipated, just missing my toes as I whipped back and let out an appallingly fake scream. The sound of the guard's feet running approached... my plan was working.