Page 105 of A Christmas Celebration
‘So, one weekend, he took matters into his own hands,’ Brodie continued, smiling at the memory. ‘He handed me a sketch book and a box of pastels and told me to get on with it. He drove me out to the countryside and practically forced me to draw.’
‘Bravo for Jack and his direct action.’ I smiled back.
‘Indeed.’ Brodie beamed. ‘Because that was exactly what I did. And I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. It was as if a dam had burst and I had no desire to plug it.’
Utterly entranced, the joyous change in his tone made tears spring to my eyes.
‘That’s amazing,’ I choked.
‘It was,’ he laughed.
‘But what did your father say?’
‘Nothing to begin with, because I kept it a secret. Painting was something I did at the weekends and I kept my supplies at Brambles to resist Monday to Friday temptation. But itdidn’t last. Within weeks, I was painting at my flat and every surface was covered in canvases.’
‘Is that when he found out?’ I asked, leaning further forward in my seat.
‘It wasn’t quite that soon,’ Brodie recalled. ‘But it wasn’t long after because fate stepped in and gave me the biggest nudge.’
‘What happened?’
‘Well,’ he said, a sense of wonder in his tone. ‘One night, I was painting when a friend turned up with a guy I didn’t know. I didn’t want to let them in, but my mate was a bit drunk and very noisy, so I admitted them both before they woke the neighbours.’
‘That was considerate of you.’
‘I’m a considerate person.’ He smiled.
‘Go on,’ I urged.
‘Well, the guy I didn’t know turned out to be a buyer for a gallery and he fell into raptures over my work. I know that sounds big-headed,’ he quickly added, ‘but that’s what happened. He loved it and said that he wanted to sell it.’
‘That’s amazing,’ I gasped.
‘It was.’ Brodie nodded. ‘And it all happened so fast.’
‘Did you say yes?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I was too shocked at the time. I told him I needed a couple of days to think about it but when I told Jack, he reckoned I should just get on with it.’
‘And did you?’
‘I did.’ Brodie grinned. ‘I told my father, who I’d trickedinto attending the gallery the evening my work first went on sale, that I would keep working during the day and paint at night and it would all be fine.’
‘What did he make of that?’
‘He didn’t believe it would pan out for a second. And it didn’t. Within a month I’d left the firm.’
‘You worked for Davey and Clarkson, didn’t you?’ I asked, knowing it was impossible to ignore the elephant in the room any longer.
I had loved listening to how Brodie had been reacquainted with his paintbrushes but it wasn’t the whole of the story and if we were going to move forward then everything needed to come out, whether it was going to tarnish his fairy tale or not.
‘Yes,’ he nodded, ‘and from your tone, I’m guessing you’ve heard of them?’
‘Who hasn’t?’ I wryly smiled.
Brodie shook his head.
‘I was so lucky I got out when I did,’ he told me. ‘I had absolutely nothing to do with any of what shut the company down and was gone long before it all kicked off. I did know a couple of the people involved, but not well. That said, I was pleased to have left before my name could be associated with the scandal, because mud sticks.’
