Chapter 20

At the Gallery

Early evening, 7pm. Clad in black tie attire, pulling wondering stares for he hadn't a familiar face the people recognised, Terry stood inside the Whitechapel Gallery, looking at the crowd that mingled around, taking their time to stand in front of the paintings, exchanging opinions. Robert and John would be there soon enough.

He had left Claridge's ahead of them. He preferred some quieter time on his own first. When the legendary John Barrymore would cross those doors, he would be like the honey pot for the flies. Terry wasn't too keen for hanging on his coat tails. It wasn't actor's jealousy by no means. Barrymore happened to be the greatest American actor alive after all. But for Terry, even standing by this great artist in a social event...he preferred to not have people think he rubbed shoulders with acting aristocracy for his own benefit.

There was a fair crowd in the room. He could check the paintings on his own pace. He opened the exhibition catalogue. "Grantchester Meadows" was the first on the list. He smiled at the coincidence. When lifted his eyes from the page, he noticed some women looking over their shoulder at him rather than the paintings. "More of the same", he thought with slight boredom having grown accustomed to this kind of female interest. He turned his stare back to the paintings.

From the looks of them from afar and the interested stare of the people that stood around him, Terry thought that the artist had indeed some talent. Intrigued, he started walking further inside the main exhibition room. His foot was still hurting from last month's accident. His earlier walk around London and St. Paul's didn't really do any good either. He thought wise to take the elegant walking cane Eleonor had bought for him, wanting to cheer him up just before he was leaving New York. It was a beautiful cane, he couldn't deny it. Long, thin, and light as a feather, it was made from ebony wood and polished to perfection. With moulded silver on both its ends, the holding end alone had such carvings made that it could a piece of art itself. He thanked Eleonor in his head, for her impeccable taste and smiled at her thought.

Cane at hand, he helped himself to a flute of champagne from those floating discreetly around in big silver trays carried by waiters. He had a sip and moved to view the paintings from up close. He moved at his leisure, from one painting to the other, while consulting the catalogue at the same time. Terry stood more at the portraits. Christian seems very able to paint really expressive faces. So expressive in fact, it was as if they were alive and breathing, just ready to jump out beyond the confines of the frames. He was very impressed; judging from the gossip he was hearing coming from the people that were standing next to him, he wasn't the only one.

There was one painting in particular. His ear had caught a few words spoken about, from two men who happened to pass by him. A beautiful blond. The Scarlet Rose. He looked down at the catalogue. "Scarlet Rose" was last on the list.

He looked around him. In the distance, on one of the free-standing stark white walls, there was a painting hanging on its own. A nude, painted in hues of red and violet, it was making such contrast with the whiteness of the wall, it was sticking out like a sore thump, an exquisite sore thumb that is. He moved closer, eager to view it. He finished the remnants of the champagne, grabbed another flute and turned to face the painting.

"Terrence!", he heard his name in the close distance. Robert and John were approaching, all smiles.

"You took your time...", Terry whispered.

"Well you know how Thespians are my dear man", John said with an imposing voice.

"Oh! Only too well Sir Barrymore", Terry replied to his comment with a dry smile.

"And please Terrence, call me John...you make feel ancient"

"How is the exhibition Terrence?", Robert cut in before Terry had the chance to throw back a smart remark. "Have you spoken to the painter yet?"

"Not really", Terry managed to say only those two words, before some Lord for whom he didn't get to catch the surname and nor did he care, rushed by Barrymore's side, eager to ferrying him and Robert over to his group. They were apparently big fans of the man.

Alone again, he turned towards the painting. From the second his eyes fell on it, he felt something strange. The walls of the room this scene that seemed to be drawn from, were violet, with heavy poppy red velvet curtains falling luxurious to the ground. The nude girl was most interesting to say the least. In fact she looked familiar. His instinct was telling him that he knew her. She was caught sleeping on her belly with her hands tucked under the curve of her neck. Her left arm was almost gliding off the crimson red French couch she was resting on. Short, blond curls fell on her cheek. A scarlet rose lay on the floor as if it had slipped from her fingers while she was falling asleep. The whole arrangement to him looked like it was after a night of debauchery. A handful of wine bottles and half empty glasses next to a hash pipe were depicted on a round table nearby, a silk robe thrown on a chair. He squinted his eyes, moved closer and focused on the face of the girl. Her innocence shone like the last stars of the night before they fade under the first light of the day. There was a completeness about her, such a feeling of content which harboured a quiet sensuality.

His heart beat went up several notches when he noticed the faintness of freckles on her naked shoulder, arm and face. In just an instant he felt sweat at his collar, the grip of his hand on the walking cane tightened. He stopped and for a moment he tried to rationalise the situation. His eyes were telling him lies, that was it. It couldn't be...could it?

He moved further away. The more he looked at her, the more this naked sleeping girl reminded him of Candy. A Candy he never had seen under this kind of light. It hadn't even crossed his mind. He was seeing a young woman who clung to the last remnants of an innocent past being ready to embrace her womanhood in the most complete way.

He felt aroused. And he was almost certain he must had been blushing. His temples were pounding. He looked around to find a place to sit down. He needed time to gather his thoughts. No, this woman could never be Candy! He was sure of it. But then again... the possibility...his throat was closing. He took a deep breath. His fingers touched his tie wanting to relax it a little.

"You like it?", he heard a smooth voice next to him.

Terry turned his eyes, coming face to face with a very handsome man. Same height, similar built, pale complexion, longish chestnut curly hair, strong mouth and clear grey eyes; Terry thought that this guy could have been a film star in the blink of an eye.

"Have to say...it is most interesting...", he said trying to clear his voice from the shock he was experiencing.

"My Scarlet Rose!", Christian said sounding proud.

Terry's eyes were questioning.

"Christian...Christian Blake", the man introduced himself and stretched his hand to Terry.

He did the same.

"Terrence Graham...but please call me Terry", he said during their handshake.

"Pleased to your acquaintance Terry"

"Same wise", Terry said. "So you're the creator, the painter", he continued.

"Indeed I am", Christian replied to his comment. "This is my most valued painting Terry"

"I can see why...", Terry added, setting up in his mind the question that burned him like the flame of a million candles right at that minute.

Deep down, he had hoped that all of this was a mistake of his part. He hadn't seen Candy in more than a decade...for sure that could have accounted for the error in his judgement.

"The woman looks fascinating if you don't mind me say so!", Terry exclaimed, pulling Christian in to say more.

"She definitely is...my muse. Her name is Rose", he said and gave a broad smile to Terry.

To the sound of her name, fresh air rushed back in his lungs. Relief...only just! So the girl on the painting wasn't Candy. What a resemblance though...It would have been the mother of all ironies if indeed the naked woman was his Candy, the woman he dreamt for more than a year now to get back together. The whole incident had unnerved him. Perhaps it would be a good idea if he left early.

"You are lucky...she seems like a rare girl", Terry said. He sounded more relaxed and was happy about that.

"Yes, she is...", Christian said while staring at him, "In fact she should be here any minute now...", he added, turning his eyes towards the glass doors of the gallery.

Terry felt a slight twitch in his stomach. Yes, the name of the mysterious woman was Rose but...there was still a niggling feeling he couldn't really explain where it was coming from. "So, where are you from Terry?", Christian said and turned to face him again. "You're not from around here..."

Terry gave him a half smile. "Used to be. Many years ago that is. I'm living in New York now. Thought to try my luck as an actor there...", he answered Christian's question at the same time wanting to just keep his stare on the gallery's doors.

"Ohhh really?! A thespian then... a fellow artist!"

Terry gave a dry laugh. "I wouldn't go as far as considering acting an art like yours for example...let's say we just have a knack to pretend...", he said back to Christian.

"Nonsense!", Christian protested with a smile, "any form of human expression is art Terry, you don't need me to tell you that!"

"If you say so...", Terry said back and glanced quickly towards the gallery's entrance, feeling his anticipation rising.

He wasn't good at conversations with strangers at the best of times...having to keep up the pretence of a social polite chat...well in his books that was an incredible achievement from his part. But he felt compelled to see the girl.

"Hollywood then?", Christian asked him again.

"No...I have no interest in moving pictures my friend...", Terry said with a dismissive tone in his voice, "Broadway...the theatre, that's my ground."

"It's my turn to say how lucky you are! I've always wanted to visit the bright lights of Broadway", Christian said with a smile.

He wished he could tell Christian how lucky he felt in his life, for at the moment it looked to Terry that Lady Luck had thrown a mighty spit on his face. He could have had any woman he wanted, make their hearts race to his touch, they would do anything he asked them to... and he only wanted one which was denied to him in a cruel way. No, luck had nothing to do with his life. The bitch that she was, she was playing him with marked cards. Who said that life was fair? Terry's thoughts were spiralling to dark corners of his mind with him trying desperate, to reign was almost ready to jump to conclusions which were at the moment unfounded at the very least.

"Whenever you are in Broadway, look me up...I'll show you around then", Terry uttered a few words back to him.

"Sure will...sure will", Christian replied.

Terry took his cigarettes out, offering one to Christian which he denied, before pulling one to light for himself. Both men, unbeknownst to each other kept waiting for her. He took a drag from his cigarette.

"Rose!", Christian almost shouted with happiness and eyes that sparkled.

The smoke was leaving through his lips, surrounding him, snaking up to the ceiling as he turned around with his heart drumming up in the chest like a locomotive in full speed. His eyes came in straight line with hers. That stunning woman who had entered the room may had been Christian's Rose but there was no doubt in hell...she was... Yes, that woman approaching by with those big eyes the colour of green forest lakes was also his Candy.