Diamond (Diamond Trilogy 1)

‘Oh, no, I’ve just fitted a kitchen. That’s real work. I was taking it easy before.’

Tabitha laughed, but there was a little indulgence in it, as if she understood that Jenna was going through the grinder and needed humouring.

‘Do come up and have a drink. Coffee? Or is it too early for something a little stronger?’

‘Oh, best not. I’m driving,’ said Jenna, following Tabitha to the back of the gallery and the staircase.

‘You? Are driving yourself? I’m not sure I’d remember how, but of course, I’m spoiled, living and working in London. No need for all that car rubbish.’

‘I’m slowly getting used to it. LA was ridiculous, though. Chauffeurs, chefs, assistants, personal trainers. I could never go anywhere without an entourage. It’s actually rather a relief to be just me again.’

‘Well, then, that’s good, isn’t it?’ said Tabitha, as if she needed convincing. ‘Come into the pit. Sorry about the mess. I’ve got an opening in a couple of days and nowhere else to stash the sketches.’

Tabitha’s office was pristine as ever, the only difference being a few large portfolio containers propped against one wall.

Petra came in with a coffee tray then left them to relax on the curved sofa set in one corner.

‘Have you taken up painting, Jenna?’ Tabitha had noticed the plastic wallet on her friend’s lap.

‘Oh, no, not me. I still can’t draw a stick man to save my life. A friend. Rather a discovery, I think.’

‘Really?’

Jenna reminded herself that Tabitha’s look of professional scepticism was understandable. Of course she wasn’t just going to take anyone’s word that a brilliant new artist was about to burst on to the scene. She must hear this pitch a dozen times a week.

‘Oh, I don’t want to walk straight in and start thrusting these pictures on you,’ she said, laughing and taking a sip of coffee. ‘But I would like you to look at them sometime, if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course I don’t mind.’

‘I’m not expecting anything more than a quick “it has potential” or “it sucks”. Just as a guide, that’s all. I love art but you know as well as I do that it isn’t my area of expertise.’

‘Well, every time a really stunning piece comes to my gallery, it always seems to end up on your walls, darling, so I think I’d vouch for your taste. Let me drink my coffee and I’ll have a look.’

They chatted about Tabitha’s family and what was happening on the London art scene until the coffee cups were dry.

Jenna could barely stand to look as Tabitha slid painting after painting from its transparent sheathing and frowned at each of them. She considered them all, looking from different angles, sometimes bringing an earlier one back to contrast and compare with the current focus, before putting them all back, carefully as if they were made of gold leaf, into the wallet.

‘So?’ said Jenna, and it came out as a whisper. ‘What do you think?’

‘Darling, I think if you were scared to tell me you’d painted these, you needn’t be. They’re wonderful.’

‘No.’ Jenna’s laugh was near hysterical and she was surprised to find that she had tears in her eyes – of relief? ‘Honestly, I didn’t do any of them. But they are wonderful, aren’t they? It isn’t just me having a moment of madness?’

‘Not in the least. They’re remarkable. Who’s the artist?’ Tabitha’s eyes were bright and Jenna realised, to her disappointment, that she was hoping it was one of Jenna’s famous clients. Brilliant art plus a famous name would indeed be something close to the Holy Grail. But she was going to have to let her friend down gently.

‘I’m afraid at this stage I can’t tell you the name,’ said Jenna, which only served to brighten Tabitha’s eyes even more. ‘Not that it would be one you’d have heard before.’ The brightness dimmed.

‘Oh? Then why ever not?’

‘The artist wishes to remain anonymous. But they would like some, well, some recognition of their work. And to that end, they’d like your advice.’

‘It is you, isn’t it? Or is it Deano?’

‘No, really, I faithfully promise you that you don’t know, or know of, the artist. It’s a private individual from my home town.’

‘How intriguing.’ Tabitha was clearly making an effort not to appear disgruntled. ‘Well, it’s certainly of displayable standard. If the artist were willing to step out of the shadows, I would be very happy to exhibit this. I think it would interest the arts media and might attract a buyer or two. And I’m not saying that as a favour to you. I think your mystery man or woman has exceptional talent. But exceptional talent is everywhere in this city, and often never finds its market.’

‘Oh?’