Page 8 of Hidden Gem
Marnie sighed. Why was everyone ganging up on her? They were here to admire Tom’s art, not her cleavage.
The redhead extended her arm, huffing impatiently. Someone in the queue behind Marnie cleared their throat – a middle-aged lady with purple hair, her pink jacket already in her hand, loose skin hanging under her arm. Well, if she was letting it all hang out... Marnie removed the bolero and passed it to the coat check girl, muttering apologies and thank-yous.
“That looks way better. Trust me. This way, Mum. Wroom...” Tom grabbed her shoulders and manoeuvred her up the stairs. It was their running joke. Teenage Tom, eager to get his mother out the door to whatever activity he needed a ride for, had taken to driving her around the house like a little vehicle, complete with engine sounds and a warning beep as they reversed to pick up forgotten keys or her handbag.
The curved banquet hall had moody lighting and spotlights on the paintings. Marnie immediately recognised Tom’s trademark explosion of colour. She had one of his works in her living room, looking oversized and out-of-place in the small space. Here, it belonged.
“It looks incredible.” She squeezed her son’s arm.
To Marnie’s relief, the room was well heated. She tried to loosen her shoulders, enjoying the feel of Tom’s hands. She had such an easy relationship with him, much more relaxed than with Tanya.
The crowd settled around the curved room, huddling around the paintings. Waiters weaved between the people, distributing champagne. Tom grabbed two from a by-passing tray, and they raised glasses.
“I’m so proud of you!” Marnie gushed. “Are they going to introduce you, or your work... I mean, is there a programme?”
Tom shrugged. “Not that I know of. A couple of politicians will talk about how much they love the arts or whatever. We prance around, trying to get our picture taken by the press, that kind of thing. It’s pretty boring. But I’m so glad you’re here!”
“Me, too! Now, I know I’m not the press, but can I take a picture of you? With your painting, obviously.”
Tom moved closer to his artwork and grinned for Marnie’s camera. “I should take a picture of you as well! Tanya needs to see this!”
Marnie laughed. “She told me I looked like a wet dog when I left Hamilton.”
Tom frowned and took out his phone. “Why do you let her talk to you like that?”
Marnie frowned, thinking of a way to change the subject. Thankfully, Tom turned his attention to photographing Marnie in her dress and she conjured up a smile. When he showed her the result, she gasped. The woman in the photo was unrecognisable. Someone else. She’d have to ask Shasa to use this picture on the community house website. Her friend had been urging her to get a new one taken for two years. In the current photo, she had a deer-in-the-headlights look that resembled the kind of mugshots you saw in the news about missing persons.
They wandered around the hall admiring the other paintings. Tom filled her in on what he knew about the artists. Most had Maori names. Even the names of the paintings were written in Te Reo. “How did you get in? You’re not Maori,” Marnie whispered.
Tom grinned. “Token white guy?”
“Maybe it means you’re just that good that they were willing to overlook your ancestry?”
“Maybe. I’m not going to question it. You have to take every opportunity...” The words died on his lips as he caught the sight of something over her shoulder.
Marnie turned to look. The hall buzzed with roaming people, yet she instantly knew who Tom was staring at– Hana, his first girlfriend, who’d moved overseas two years ago. What was she doing here?
Tom’s eyes glistened with pain and longing.
“It’s okay,” she said softly, squeezing his arm. “Go talk to her. I’ll be fine.”
Tom’s eyebrows knitted in regret. “A bunch of us were going to slip out after the speeches to a private party. You’re invited, of course. It’s on a rooftop!”
Marnie’s feet protested the idea with a stab of pain. Climbing stairs would be the end of her. “That’s okay. I’m happy to eat nibbles and listen to the speeches and then Uber myself to the hotel. Go talk to your girl!”
“I’ll come and find you later, okay?” Tom shot her a grateful look and sauntered away, leaving her with two champagne glasses.
Marnie smiled, suddenly lost and lonely. Would she see him again before the night was over? With the swarming crowd, it would be easy to lose sight of each other. She drank the champagne to shake off her melancholy and tried to ignore the pain shooting up from her feet. There were no seats. She couldn’t stand all evening in these shoes. Maybe she could sit on the toilet for a bit? After one more champagne, she’d have to pee anyway. This wasn’t quite the last hurrah she’d envisioned, but she could always buy one of those cinnamon crepes from a street kitchen for a late-night snack and retreat to her hotel room. Better yet, she could have something delivered.
With her plan formulated, Marnie moved towards the drinks table. If she lowered her expectations, everything would be okay.
