“What have you been up to since uni?”
“Not a lot, really. Not as much as this one who lives in Paris.”
Amy strikes a pose as if someone’s snapping a photo of her besides the Eiffel Tower.
“That’s great. I lived there myself for a while until I married. What do you do, Amy?”
“I’m head of marketing for a cosmetics company.”
“Nice. Your skin is so youthful. Do you use their products?”
“She doesn’t have kids, Mark.”
He chuckles. “Neither do I, but maybe I drink too much. Speaking of drink, we have non-alcoholic drinks as well. Please help yourself throughout the session. We’ll be stopping for lunch around 1.30pm.”
Mark takes hold of my hand. “It’s really great to see you, Steph. I always wanted to apologise for my behaviour.”
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”
“It’s not fine. Cal was right to be pissed. Though I showed no one your drawing, it was stolen, but I should have stood up for you like Cal did. I just wanted to fit in.”
“So was I.”
“You? You always seemed to have your stuff together. I admired you for being so confident.”
“I never felt confident, believe me. All I wanted was a boyfriend and to be loved and accepted.”
“Me too, Steph. Me too.”
A group arrives through the door. “I’ll catch up later. Choose an easel, help yourself to drinks and nibbles.”
“Thank you.”
He greets the group, and I walk towards the easels with Amy, who whispers, “Shit pommel frites.”
“Did you know?” I whisper.
“No. I can barely remember people I met last year, let alone some guy from twenty years ago.”
I glance around at the art on the wall signed Mark Barnes. “This is his work, look.” I stare at the London cityscape, then my eyes move to a painting of a naked man with a strong back and perfect arse, reminding me of Cal. My heart aches like it does each time I think of him. Will it always be this way? You’d think I’d be used to this pain by now.
“I wonder if that’s who we’re painting. It would certainly make the afternoon interesting, hmm?” Amy hands me a glass. “Do you want juice, water, or pop?”
“A glass of juice, please.”
She fills a wine glass with cranberry juice. “Here, at least you can pretend you’re drinking.”
“Thanks.” I pick up a chocolate from the table and bite into the truffle centre, hoping I have my antacids in my bag.
The room fills. I stand by my station with an easel in front of me, an adjustable stool, and a table I share with Amy for the paints and drinks. “It’s quite a nice setup, actually.”
Mark talks to the group and explains the day’s events before introducing us to the life model. “This is Michael. He will be our model for today.”
“Bloody-hell, he’s an adonis.” Amy’s jaw drops. She glances behind her at the naked man’s arse painting behind her. “It is him, isn’t it? My prayers have been answered.”
I giggle. “No wonder your friend told you to come here.”
“Do you think he’s single?”