‘I spoke to him a few weeks ago,’ said Grace. ‘I invited him down tonight actually, but he couldn’t make it because his mum isn’t well.’
‘Still carrying a torch for little Alex?’ Sarah teased. ‘Can’t imagine what you’d see in a gorgeous millionaire rock star like that.’
‘Sarah, I’m a happily unmarried woman,’ said Grace, feeling herself blush.
‘I know that, but we can still talk about our “What if” men, can’t we?’
If Grace was honest, she had been dwelling on that very thought lately. She had begun to wonder how she had managed to end up rattling around another big, beautiful mansion with an absent partner and just a handful of staff for company. Julian was away four nights out of seven working on his ‘urban study’, an extension of his Newspeak project which involved installing a series of TV screens in and around east London. For that end, he was using a rented studio in Shoreditch rather than the five-thousand-square-foot space he’d just had built in the grounds of Toddington Hall. It felt like history was repeating itself.
‘So how’s life in the castle?’ asked Sarah.
‘Julian is giving up smoking, so he’s snapping like a little dog,’ said Grace, dodging the question. ‘I’m actually glad he’s up in London half the week.’
‘I think you’re bored,’ mused Sarah. ‘You know what you should do?’ she smiled mischievously.
‘What?’
‘A film – a documentary. You’ve got a fantastic visual eye.’
‘Come on. Julian’s the one playing around with videos. I’m a photographer, not a director.’
Sarah took another sip of wine. ‘I’m not talking about you being the next Spielberg, but I think you could do an incredible documentary. Michael Moore has won Oscars from getting on his soap box with a camcorder.’
Grace loved how Sarah believed in her, thought she was capable of anything. She had none of her friend’s confidence in her own abilities and for a moment she wondered if the years living with bullish, driven men like Gabriel and Julian had sapped her self-belief.
‘I can help with investment.’ Sarah worked in one of the country’s biggest media law practices, with contacts across the business.
‘You know I don’t need it.’
‘Film finance isn’t just about money. I know a couple of guys who could exec-produce it for you.’
For the first time in a long time, Grace felt a flurry of excitement.
‘The big four zero is out there, Grace. When it comes, we want to be forty, fulfilled and fabulous.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Grace.
Julian hated the idea. Grace wasn’t entirely surprised; he hadn’t been all that supportive of her photography, deriding it as ‘populist’ and ‘commercial’, two things he found completely unacceptable in any artistic venture. Grace also suspected that he disliked the idea of her stepping on his toes. He was the visual artist in their relationship and he didn’t want her stealing any of his thunder. Grace had spread a series of black and white prints of photographs she had taken in Parador on the big table in the conservatory, a sort of makeshift mood board for a possible documentary. Julian gave them a cursory glance.
‘Say something,’ said Grace with gathering frustration.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I just don’t understand why, of the million subjects in the world, your documentary has to be about Parador.’
‘Because there’s a great untold story there.’
‘And your desire to go back there has nothing to do with your ex-husband?’
‘Don’t be so childish, Julian,’ said Grace. ‘You know Gabe has a new wife.’
‘I just think it’s strange, that’s all I’m saying.’
He walked back into the house and she followed him. She was angry that he could be so dismissive of her interests and ambitions, yet he expected her to drop everything and muck in when he got excited about a project.
‘Don’t walk away from me, Julian,’ she said. ‘This is important to me.’
Julian stopped and crossed his arms. ‘Is this about you reasserting some ludicrous sense of independence?’
‘No! Why would you even think that? And what’s so wrong about having my own career anyway?’