Page 154 of Off the Pitch

The universe sucked.

“I was walking through Chelsea yesterday on my way to have lunch with a friend, and I went past the Daaé Gallery. Do you know the one? It’s where we got that lovely landscape that’s in the second drawing room.”

I didn’t know what painting she was talking about because I had been conspicuously absent from my parent’s house for as long as possible. Not that my mother would care to remember that. My stomach sank though at the mention of the gallery, and I wondered why she’d sounded so oddly pleased and friendly. I reached for another biscuit, then just decided I’d be better off with the rest of the packet.

“Anyway,” she continued, not waiting for me to answer. “They had a sign in the window about their next exhibition, and it had your name on it, but I thought they must mean somebody else because you couldn’t possibly be exhibiting there.” I rolled my eyes, praying this conversation would be over soon. It was one thing that my mother hated my art, but it was another type of pain entirely to know she didn’t think I was capable of producing anything worthy of being exhibited.

I mean, I was allowed to think that about my work, but I damn sure wasn’t going to let her think it.

“But then I saw they had a photograph of the artist, and it does look a lot like you, and I wanted to check. Is it you? If it is, you’ve let your hair get dreadfully long, darling.”

“Yes. It is me. Hélène Penaud offered me the slot.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and for once in my life, I would have paid to see the expression on my mother’s face as that bomb of information landed.

“Oh.”

“Was there anything else you needed?” I asked.

“Well…” There was another pause, and I could almost feel my mother gearing up to ask questions. I wished I was impolite enough to put the phone down on her. “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean this is the Daaé Gallery, darling. I want to be able to tell everyone and invite them to your launch. You are having a launch, aren’t you? When is it? The sign only gave a date for the exhibition to start and no indication of a preview or reception, and I need to be able to give people time to put it in their diaries. Oh, and I’ll ask Angela if she can bring Harry because he’s back from New York now and it would be so good for you to meet him. I really think you should you know, I mean—”

“Enough,” I said, cutting her off before she got up to full steam. I couldn’t take it. “Please, Mother, enough. The reason I didn’t tell you is because you have shown exactly zero interest in my art career up until this point, and I distinctly remember you telling me that neither you or Father wanted anything to do with me should I continue to pursue it. And now that I’ve been offered an exhibition at a gallery you deem worthy of importance, you are finally interested. And not only that, but you’re trying to pretend that you’ve cared all along when really you just want to be able to show me off to your friends. Well, enough. This is my achievement, and I’ve done this on my own through my own talent.”

I took a deep breath. The last sentiment wasn’t strictly true because I knew an incredible amount of luck had been involved in Hélène seeing my work, but I wasn’t going to mention that.

“Kit, darling, be reasonable. You’re acting very childishly. All we want to do is support you.”

Because now you deem my achievements worthy of attention. I didn’t say that though because it was pointless to argue with her, and I didn’t have the mental energy to do that today.

“I will send you the details,butI am only going to put yours and Father’s names on the guest list for the reception. This is my achievement, and as such, I will be celebrating with my friends.” Hélène had already mentioned sending out invitations to potential buyers and interested parties from the gallery’s lists, so I didn’t have that many spaces to fill, and I wasn’t going to waste them on people I didn’t want to talk to.

“Well, I suppose that will do,” she said. “But at least let me give Harry your phone number, darling. It simply won’t do for you to go to your own launch without a date.”

My lips curled into a smile. “You don’t need to worry about that. My boyfriend will be there, and I’m sure he’ll be excellent company.” I heard the door click, indicating Hugo’s return from training. Thank fuck. “I’m sorry, I really must go. I’ll ask Hélène to send you the details. Goodbye.”

I hung up the phone to the sound of stuttered protests and slid onto the floor. Which was where Hugo found me two minutes later, giggling manically into my mug of tea.

“Everything okay?” he asked, then gave me a wry smile and a raised eyebrow.

“My mother rang.”

“Oh… do you need emergency biscuits,mon coeur?”

“You’re too sweet, but I’ll be okay. I have the rest of the packet of Hob Nobs I stashed in the cupboard.”

Hugo chuckled and leant down to kiss the top of my head. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. Did she want anything in particular?”

“She saw my name in the window of the Daaé Gallery and wanted to know if it was actually me or someone else. And then she decided she wanted to invite the entirety of her social circle to my launch event. I told her to sod off. Politely of course.” I sighed and took a sip of my tea, relishing the warmth and comfort. “I did invite her, though, and my father. I couldn’t think of a reason not to. I know I shouldn’t want their opinions, but somehow, I still do. I’ve never been good enough for them, and that still bothers me. You’d have thought after nearly twenty-six years I’d be over it.”

Hugo sat down next to me, leaning against the cabinet and locking his fingers with mine, resting them on my thigh. “It’s okay to say that, and it’s okay to want that, even if you don’t think you should.”

“Mmm,” I said. “I suppose. I’d much rather pretend they don’t exist and replace them with David. He’s been texting me all day today reminding me to take breaks and eat and drink water. It’s driving me mad.”

“Did you listen to him?”

“Obviously not.” I chuckled, and Hugo snorted. I leant my head against his shoulder and took a deep breath, his warm, solid presence comforting me. “I took photos of the canvases I’ve already finished today. I sent them over to Hélène for the sales catalogue.”

“All of them?”

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