Taking Chances

Chapter 41

Melbourne. The big smoke. Bec looked out of the tram window as she rode towards the art gallery. The Yarra river reflected the lights off the city in a dazzling way and restaurants did a brisk trade with outdoor gas heaters warming the diners who sat out on the street.

Even though Spring time was warm, Melbourne's weather could turn bitingly cold within an hour. Bec walked down a side-street with her winter coat zipped up to her chin and covering her evening-dress. A flutter of nerves rolled across her stomach and she reminded herself that there was no need to be nervous. This was a Wednesday night opening – only those with a keen interest in the arts, or the social connections, would be in attendance. At least that's what Margery said.

Bec squinted at the building names and numbers on the dark buildings that towered over here. When she found the right one, she had walked through the double glass doors and into the heated lobby, which was somewhat like an up-market hotel's lobby, except much smaller.

She rode the elevator up to the third floor and got out. People were already there. It was a formal occasion with more pomp than ceremony. Men wore black suits and ties, while women wore evening gowns. Small tables were placed throughout, with glasses of champagne, wine, or water with a slice of lemon. Bec felt a bit ordinary in her black sleeveless dress.

Glass panes hung from the ceilings. They created artificial corridors. This exhibition focused on life in rural Australia. A few of the male guests wore Akubra hats to show they had roots in the countryside - the bush. Bec turned a corner and there were her photos. Self-awareness and embarrassment consumed her and she felt heat rise in her cheeks, as if she didn't deserve to be here. Her photos were framed and hanging on the white-washed walls with small pin-lights illuminating the images. A woman in her mid-fifties stood before the images. She had a blank expression on her face and her head was cocked slightly to the left.

That can't be good.

Bec turned to go back in the opposite direction, but Margery Nederfield, the owner of the small gallery, glided up to Bec's shoulder with a champagne flute in each hand. She passed one to Bec. She was wearing a red evening gown with a revealing neckline.

"Oh Rebecca! These images just love this space," said Margery. She took Bec by the elbow and lead her to where the woman was standing.

"Olivia darling," began Margery. "I do want you to meet the artist to whom these images belong."

The woman faced Bec, "These are delightful photographs. The light creates a sense of hopeful energy, wouldn't you say Margery?"

"Certainly. It is such a relief to have representations of rural life that aren't based on the romanticism of Australia's pioneering past." Bec was taken aback. She hadn't expected such a critique of her work, or such praise.

The older woman extended her hand and Bec shook it. She had a firm grip, and Bec decided there was metal in the woman. She said, "Rebecca Williams, photographer."

"Olivia Fraser, business woman."

Margery added, "Not just a business woman. Olivia also sits on the school board of Penkhurst Girls."

Bec hadn't heard of it, but she smiled and nodded. Margery continued, "Weren't you saying that your artist in residence up and left for South America?"

Olivia rested a hand on Margery's forearm. "I'm so glad you mentioned it. Rebecca, Penkhurst is looking for a photographer. I don't suppose you would be interested?"