Page 112 of A Secret Cornish Wish
‘Deal,’ I reply, shaking it. ‘Now, we’d better be getting back to the party, or people will wonder where we are.’
‘Anyone in particular?’ Robs asks, looking back at the café.
‘No?’ I’m a little puzzled by his question. ‘I just meant Claire and the other mermaids. It’s really good to see everyone again, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’ Rob turns back to me. ‘The best.’
The rest of the party is a lot of fun.
We all dance, drink and enjoy the huge buffet of food that Eddie and Dexter have laid on for their guests.
‘I think I’m going to head back to Claire’s soon,’ I say, leaning across towards Mack, who has spent a lot of the evening sitting close to Rosie and me.
The more people drank tonight, the more the dance floor filled, and the more people that danced, the louder the music got, until you couldn’t really hear anyone else other than the person sitting close to you. So I almost have to shout into Mack’s ear to get him to hear me.
‘Rosie is getting tired,’ I say, looking down at Rosie who is snuggled next to me leaning against my side. About twenty minutes ago she was dancing to a medley of One Direction songs with Eddie and Mandy.
‘Would you like me to walk you back?’ Mack asks. ‘I could do with the fresh air to be honest.’
‘Sure, if you don’t mind. That would be great. Thanks.’
Before we go, I excuse myself to visit the ladies. Carefully, I lean Rosie against Mack, so she’s propped up by him instead of me. ‘Back in a minute,’ I tell Mack, looking at Rosie snuggling into Mack’s side as if she’s done it many times before.
As I’m washing my hands in one of the sinks in the ladies’ toilet, one of the cubicles opens behind me and another woman comes up to the sink next to me. ‘Hi,’ she says, smiling at me as she turns on the tap and runs her hands under the water.
‘Hi.’ I turn off the tap at my sink and head across to dry my hands.
‘Are you Frankie?’ she says over the noise of the electric hand-dryer.
‘Yes, I am,’ I reply, wondering why she’s asking.
‘The painting you did for Eddie is amazing.’
‘Thank you.’ The dryer has stopped, so I return to the mirror to tidy up my hair and redo my lipstick.
‘I mean it,’ the woman continues. ‘You have a very distinct, and I’d go so far as to say unusual, style.’
‘Thank you,’ I say again, feeling embarrassed by her praise. ‘It’s kind of you to say.’
‘Do you paint a lot?’
‘When I can. I’ve been doing it on and off since I was a teenager.’
‘Do you know much about art in general?’ she asks suddenly.
‘A bit,’ I reply, a little thrown by her question. ‘I used to work in a large art gallery in Glasgow, as a curator.’
‘Nice.’ The woman looks impressed, and I notice for the first time her attire. She’s wearing a floaty dress in many shades of turquoise, green and blue. She wears several long, beaded necklaces in matching colours to her dress, including one with seashells interspersed with the beads, and in her long red hair she wears a comb with a small starfish attached, pulling her hair up on one side. ‘Are you looking for a job by any chance?’
‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘A job? I should introduce myself. My name is Cordelia Delmare and I’m the manager of the Lyle art gallery here in St Felix. And I think you might be just what I’m looking for. An artist such as yourself can only be an asset to a gallery such as ours.’
I stare in the mirror at Cordelia, completely confused.The Lyle Gallery is huge, by far the biggest gallery in St Felix. What would they want with me?
‘Are you offering to display some of my work?’
Cordelia smiles. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I should have been clearer. Your work, although amazing, isn’t quite right for our gallery. We specialise in more . . . avant garde works of art – modern art, some would call it, although some of our work does come from as early as the 1950s. We have a lot of Ben Nicholson’s work and some Barbara Hepworth sculptures too.’
