Page 8 of Off the Pitch

DavidYou can repay me by coming with me to my friend Kit’s gallery show next Friday. I’ll text you the details.

LilySounds interesting. I’ll be there.

LilyCan I bring a friend?

I wasn’t sure who Lily would bring, but I wanted to get Kit as much support as possible, and Lily might bring someone who’d actually be able to afford something. That would be even better. All the carbonara for me! Kit might even agree to do some housework as well. That would be a bonus.

DavidSure – the more the merrier.

Chapter Five

GREENWICH ATHLETIC 2 VALENCIA 0

Greenwich Top Champions League Group after Home Win

The Guardian

Christian

“I don’t understand why you’re making me do this. I have better things to do with my Friday night,” I grumbled, fiddling with the pale pink tie around my neck.

“Like what?” Lily shot back from her bedroom. She was right, of course. I had nothing better to do with my evening. But I still wasn’t quite sure why I was being dragged to her friend of a friend’s art show. I sighed and stared into the mirror, smoothing out my jacket. I’d never been naturally stylish—Lily had even called me a walking fashion disaster once—but even I had to admit that I looked good in a suit. It was dark navy, with bright pink lining that occasionally flashed when I walked.

I’d not been convinced at first, but I liked pink, and the tailor had made it sound so appealing that I’d accepted without hesitation. I’d had another suit made with electric blue lining, and I was toying with ordering a third. Perhaps with orange lining this time.

I wasn’t sure how formal this event was, but I liked the suit, and I rarely got a chance to wear it—except for the odd formal dinner at the club.

“Are you ready?” asked Lily from behind me. “The Uber will be here in a minute.” She was wearing a black lace dress and lace-up boots with sky-high heels that made her tower over me. Her hair was what she would describe as expertly tousled. I think it made her look like she’d just woken up. My mum would say it looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards.

“Yes,Mum,” I replied, sticking my tongue out. “Where are we going again?”

“Hackney. There’s a gallery that’s doing a show of new artists.” I followed her down the stairs and into the waiting car. Luckily the driver didn’t seem to give two hoots about who I was. Either that or he wasn’t a fan.

“Right, and this friend is?”

Lily was being deliberately obtuse, but I couldn’t work out why. Maybe this friend was someone she was dating and wanted me to meet? I wasn’t sure, but she was very pushy about my attending. Apparently, it would do this friend a lot of credit if I showed up. Not that I knew much about art. I was as talented as a walrus when it came to drawing.

“Kit! He’s lovely. And I promise I won’t keep you out late. I know you’re playing on Sunday.”

“Thanks,” I added, gazing out the window as the lights of London sped by. An early night had been my only condition. Knowing Lily, she’d latch onto a group of people, and they’d be out partying until the early hours of tomorrow morning. I’d always wished I had her knack for being good with people. Then again, a night in some grungy club sounded like hell.

The gallery turned out to be in an old warehouse building. High ceilings and large windows with lots of metallic features gave the place an industrial feel. There were already people milling around, drinks in hand, while waiting staff carried trays laden with canapes. I snagged a cone of mini fish and chips as a waiter walked past me, before Lily pressed a glass of orange juice into my hand.

I hardly ever drank, and never during the season, and I’d always found that most events had the most boring non-alcoholic options. Still, at least this time the juice was fresh and cold, rather than something that had come from a lukewarm Tesco carton.

There was a huge variety of art on display in all manner of styles and colours. I had to admit that some of it was quite pretty. Lily had steered me towards a selection done in charcoal and brightly coloured paint, and I ate my cone of chips while staring at a piece that was so abstract, I couldn’t even work out what it was.

“What do you think?” The sudden voice from behind me made me jump. I spun to find myself faced with a friendly smile and lots of red hair.

“I like it,” I said, because I did. “I just can’t work out what it is.”

The man laughed. “I don’t know either, and I painted it.” He stuck his hand out. “Kit Macken. Thanks for coming.”

“I’m Christian King,” I replied, shaking his hand. Kit was looking at me with a slightly strange expression, as if he was trying to figure something out.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said, and then snapped his fingers. “David was looking at your pictures the other day. I think he’s a fan. He’s around somewhere. You should meet him.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, swallowing hard. It would be far too big of a coincidence for it to be my David. Even though he wasn’tmyDavid. I downed the last of my juice, wishing for a moment that it was slightly stronger.

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