The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane

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       27

      Toby Taylor was bricking it with excitement. He had never seen so many faces in one room at the same time. The Delaney twins had come to the opening, and the Regans were in with all their heavy friends. The Foremans of Battersea had already bought up several of Kieron Delaney’s paintings out of respect to their Delaney colleagues. The Nash family were in too, and some of the real hard, heavy boys from New York, the Barolli lot. And the Kray twins. Fucking good job Eddie and Charlie Richardson had been nicked, because they had been mixing it with the Krays, which wasn’t wise.

      ‘Christ,’ said Toby, mincing around the gallery with his long-term boyfriend Paolo. Vivaldi’s Four Seasons was emanating discreetly from the expensive sound system. ‘You can smell the testosterone in the air, can’t you sweetie?’

      Paolo nodded. He didn’t share his older lover’s taste for danger. These people looked like they could cut up rough in an instant. He didn’t like it. Toby was a silly old queen, prancing around arse-licking to these people. Paolo thought that Toby was a joke with his spare tyre straining to get out of his pink floral shirt and his stupid toupee slipping sideways on his billiard ball of a head. Toby was sweating with excitement as the crowds grew thicker. The noise level rose with each bottle of Moët that was opened.

      ‘Darling, sweetie,’ said Toby as they stumbled across Kieron and Annie. ‘Mwah, mwah.’ Toby air-kissed either side of Annie’s head. ‘Don’t you look absolutely stunning, what a wicked dress. Have you seen it? Have you seen it?’

      It was very hard to miss, thought Annie. She’d been gob-smacked when she’d walked through the double doors at the front of the gallery and been instantly confronted by the painting of herself in the nude. It was placed at the centre of the landing above the big, double, open-tread staircase, cunningly lit and impossible to overlook. It made all Kieron’s other work, the beautiful African landscapes and the finely detailed wild-life studies, fade into insignificance. Everyone had seen it.

      ‘I’ve seen it,’ said Annie.

      ‘And aren’t you thrilled with it?’ demanded Toby, clutching clammily at her hand with his beringed and pudgy digits.

      ‘It’s very impressive,’ said Annie.

      ‘She hates it,’ said Kieron with a laugh.

      ‘I don’t hate it,’ said Annie. ‘I just feel a bit, well, exposed.’

      ‘But this is Art,’ said Paolo in his charming Italian-accented English. ‘It is an honour to be the subject of such an artist.’

      ‘You won’t convince her,’ said Kieron. He chucked Annie under the chin. ‘Cheer up, Annie. I’ll go and get us another drink.’

      Toby and Paolo took themselves off to mingle with Ronnie and Reggie. Annie went and looked at a painting of a snarling tiger. Anything rather than look at the painting that was capturing everyone else’s attention.

      ‘Gorgeous, isn’t she,’ she heard.

      ‘Fantastic tits.’

       Oh Jesus!

      Annie moved further out of earshot. She was glad she’d chosen her discreet black dress and pearls to wear this evening. Like camouflage, it enabled her to move a bit more freely among the patrons and their wives and girlfriends. Not many of the women praised her tits, she noticed. They tended to admire the brush strokes and the texture of the paint rather than the jugs on the sitter.

      ‘There you are.’ Kieron was back with two brimming champagne flutes. ‘What are you doing, hiding away over here? Why not get behind that cheese plant there and have done with it?’

      Annie gave him a whack in the stomach. She wished they’d put something more lively on the sound system. Some Stones or Beatles, she liked them. All these violins wailing away depressed her.

      ‘Ow,’ complained Kieron.

      ‘How would you feel, to have a roomful of people admiring your bits?’ asked Annie, glancing around. There was a very polished and strikingly good-looking, silver-haired man in his late thirties across the room, looking at her. He was with two teenage boys, one dark, one fair, and a very handsome middle-aged woman who looked faintly Italian.

      ‘I’d feel flattered and proud,’ said Kieron. ‘I would probably give them my elephant impression as an encore.’

      Annie slapped his stomach again, but she had to smile.

      ‘Who’s that?’ she СКАЧАТЬ