Sarah held the piece of card in her hand, flapping it backwards and forwards as she read the words for the hundredth time. She wouldn't even have dreamt of going if she hadn't been in London already but she'd come up to check out the band Mandy wanted to play at the reception and, having done that, she now had this invitation forcing her to pay it some attention.
It had arrived in the post a couple of days earlier, the announcement of an exhibition that included Hugo's photographs. She had been about to recycle it but catching his name made her pin it on her notice board instead.
And goodness knows why she'd stuffed it in her bag as she walked out of the door that morning. But as she had, she reasoned, she might as well go. She got out her London street map and worked out a route.
It was in a part of London Sarah didn't know at all. It looked 'up and coming', in that there were a few stylish shops in among the grille-fronted off-licences and video-games stores. The odd brightly painted front door shone out from among the homes for squatters. It would be the place to buy property for those with strong nerves who didn't fear street crime. Sarah didn't qualify for either criteria and was glad she wasn't here after dark. She hailed a taxi from the tube more so she didn't get lost, she told herself, than because she was nervous.
The driver pulled up in front of a huge old warehouse that looked big enough to store elephants. 'Here we are, love. They tell me this is one of the hottest new galleries in town.'
‘Oh, right, thank you!’
Once inside the building, Sarah felt pleased to be there. Going to exhibitions was the sort of thing she loved to do but hardly ever let herself make time for. She walked up the stairs trying to convince herself that it was just the exhibition generally she'd come to see and the fact that Hugo's work would be here was just by the by. She chuckled at herself, not even slightly fooled.
The space she arrived at made Elsa's large workroom look like a single bedroom. Here the vast area was divided up by white-painted partitions. The room was full of activity. People were hanging work, realigning bits of partition and, somewhere out of sight, someone was banging ten bells out of a piece of metal. Sarah was confused. She pulled the invitation out of her pocket from where it had been in and out several times already and realised she'd got the date wrong. The exhibition was for next week.
Mentally kicking herself extremely hard, she was about to turn and leave when a girl came up to her. 'Can I help?’
She was tall and thin and encased in tight denim. Her hair was very blonde and blossomed out of her head in wild curls. Sarah thought she was familiar but couldn't immediately place her.
Sarah made a gesture. 'I'm sorry, I got the date wrong. I'll just go.'
‘Do you live in London?’
Sarah realised the girl could probably tell that she didn't just by looking at her and then wondered if this was paranoia. 'No..
‘Then come and have a look now or you'll miss it.' The girl smiled. 'I know what you country bumpkins are like! Is there an artist you're particularly interested in?’
‘Well, I know Hugo Marsters a bit.'
‘Oh, Hugo! He's great, isn't he? Bloody good photographer, by the way. I'm Electra Handforth-Williams.’
‘Sarah Stratford.' So that was why she was familiar. She'd seen her with Hugo that time, when she was last in London. She found it almost impossible to smile. Her hand, she knew, taken by Electra and shaken, would be damp and cold. Why did she ever let herself think Hugo might be interested in her? Electra was enchanting, in the way that Bambi was enchanting. She couldn't possibly even think of competing with such youth and vitality, not to mention beauty.
‘Well, come on in. We're still setting up, as you can see, but Hugo's work is hung. I took responsibility for it personally. We're expecting it to attract a lot of attention. One or two pieces have been sold already but he'd promised them for the exhibition and I jolly well told him they had to be there!' She sparkled at Sarah. 'Jolly nice to have a few red spots straightaway!’
Sarah nodded, trying to reflect some of Electra's good humour, and followed her.
‘He's so good, isn't he? Well, I'll leave you to it. Come and find me if you want to be talked through any of the other artists.’
Electra was right – he was so good! Sarah had seen his portfolio at Carrie's hotel and been impressed but these were amazing. Huge black and white photographs filled two of the enormous partitions. One wall was of celebrities, beautiful people, but looking really interesting. She spotted Carrie, her hair flying across her face, laughing, freckled and completely without make-up. Sarah had never seen her look so beautiful. Several famous actors;
men and women, young and old; sporting heroes in unusual, casual poses who she recognised but couldn't immediately place; politicians, past and present: all were represented. She gazed and admired and felt ashamed of how she'd just assumed Hugo made his living by doing weddings, never suspecting that he was also a great artist.
Then she was brought up short. She came to a section where no one seemed to be famous and felt sick and faint for the second time that day.
She could hardly breathe as she looked at herself. She was crouching down, looking up into the face of Ashlyn's little bridesmaid. She was smiling and taking a strand of hair out of the little girl's eyes. The little girl was doing the same for Sarah, and now she saw it, she remembered the feel of the tiny, damp hand on her face.
Sarah swallowed. She wasn't used to seeing herself look beautiful and she had to admit in this picture she did. Yet she also looked exactly like herself, so it wasn't just a clever angle or something. Was that how Hugo saw her? As beautiful? Or was it just the artist's eye? But why hadn't he shown her this before? She was acutely aware of Electra, somewhere in the gallery.
Then she came to some photographs of the girl – Sarah felt she couldn't really be more than a year out of her teens – herself. Here Electra was half naked, her flawless back and toned arms making her look like an idealised piece of marble. They were very intimate. There were lots of her, taken in a meadow behind which presided a huge stately home Sarah felt she should have recognised. She was sure it must be where Electra had been brought up.
Electra came up again and handed Sarah a cup of coffee. 'Here, thought you might like this. I thought I recognised you. You're the woman in the photograph.’
As she took the cup it occurred to Sarah that it might have been coincidence that made Electra appear at just the moment she was looking at her photos, but maybe not.
‘Oh golly, look at me!' Electra peered at her image. 'You don't think I look remotely fat, do you?’
As it was possible Kate Moss would look fat next to her, Sarah could only say, 'No.'
‘I do work out a lot. Look at those abs!’
Sarah's attention was more caught by the tiny, perfect spheres that were Electra's breasts, actually.
‘Who, I ask you, would swap that fabulous figure for squealing kids!' Electra laughed. 'I know, I know, everyone wants babies these days, like they were some fashion accessory, but I'd rather have a really fit bod.'
‘Well, you don't have to think about having babies for years and years,' said Sarah, feeling like someone's grandmother.
‘I know, but I've already decided. Kiddywinks: fine in a photo but otherwise, not for me.’
Sarah was about to ask if she'd discussed it with Hugo, who, as far as she could tell, was good with kiddywinks, and might want some of his own. But as it was really none of her business, and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer anyway, she shut it again. 'You may feel differently in a few years,' she said instead.
Electra made a face. 'That's what everyone says, but I won't change my mind. I love my career too much. And I love travelling. Might even move to New York. They've got a fabulous art scene over there. Now, if you've finished with Hugo, come and see this work. I think it's amazing!’
Ingesting the cup of very strong black coffee – something she rarely, if ever, did – helped Sarah get through. She managed to nod and smile at Electra's intense enthusiasm for the work in the gallery, all the while wondering what Hugo saw in her. But then she told herself off. Electra was beautiful, enthusiastic and obviously bright, and she most probably had hidden depths.
She was relieved when her phone rang. She found a quiet corner, and managed to be quite calm when Mandy said, 'Sarah, honey? You'll be very glad to know that Carrie's made up her mind about the bridesmaids. She wants four and she wants them to have dresses very like her own.'
‘And have we decided on which design she likes best?' Sarah had her fingers crossed for Elsa who was getting frantic.
‘Not yet, but I will try and encourage her to soon. She thinks the sight of her and four little attendants will be very pretty.'
‘Well, that's something, thank you for telling me. I'll get on to Elsa straight away.’
Sarah disconnected. She felt it was time she left but she probably ought to say goodbye to Electra first, it would seem a bit rude just to disappear. She walked over to her. 'Electra, it's been great, it really has. Lovely meeting you and really wonderful having a personal tour of the show, but I've got to go.' She shook Electra's hand and walked away, glad to be out in the fresh air.
She rang Elsa in the taxi that she'd asked to take her to Paddington, rather than wrestle with the tube again. She was feeling jumpy and tired at the same time. That had been something of an ordeal. What with the strong coffee, her photograph and meeting Electra, of all people, she really needed a lie-down.
Elsa took the news calmly. 'That's OK. Even if she wants them to be just like hers, they won't want boned bodices, it would be child abuse. I've already got in touch with my woman. She's coming round for a chat sometime. She's brilliant at beading.'
‘Oh good,' said Sarah, sighing. 'I'm really glad that it's all OK.'
‘Are you OK, Sarah? You sound a little tense.'
‘Fine. Just being in London, busy day, all these people, traffic and noise, you know,' said Sarah, glad that Elsa couldn't see her and realise just how strange she felt.