A Trick of the Light by Ali Carter (books for 5 year olds to read themselves TXT) 📗

Opposite me was Paul, an unprepossessing man with no hair and enormous nostrils. I’d introduced myself briefly before dinner and was, to be quite honest, keen to avoid him. He had a whiff of I-haven’t-washed-for-a-while about him but, now, sitting opposite, I thought I must be polite.

I tried to catch his attention as he looked up and down the table but our eyes failed to meet – he clearly didn’t rate me much either. I watched as he punched his breast bone and drew a groggy lump up his throat. Poor Jessica beside him. Here’s hoping the bearded man on her right has better manners.

‘Hello,’ said my neighbour who wanted to shake hands, ‘I’m the son-in-law Stephen.’

‘Hello, I’m Susie. Is Lavender’s daughter here?’ I was surprised. Why hadn’t we been introduced?

Stephen laughed. A composed laugh but a laugh nonetheless and I realised what a ridiculous mistake I’d made. ‘I’m sorry.’ I laughed too. ‘It’s only Jessica mentioned a daughter. I haven’t ever met Lavender before.’

Jessica looked up.

‘It’s okay,’ Stephen nudged my knee. ‘That’s Chris there.’

Chris, the man with the beard, raised his mono-brow and nodded a ‘Hello’.

‘He’s not feeling well,’ whispered Stephen.

‘Poor guy.’

‘It’s his mother’s food. I think you’ll agree.’

‘I haven’t tried it yet,’ I smiled and he watched as I attempted to cut up my gammon steak.

All I can say is I’m extremely glad it was in a thick white sauce. So thick it didn’t even wobble, let alone splatter, and as I literally sawed the piece of meat in half, I felt myself brewing uncontrollable giggles. Church giggles. Those ones I just cannot stop.

But Stephen’s words set me straight. ‘Be careful,’ he said as I wiped a tear from my eye, ‘you can tease Lavender about a lot of things but never her food.’

I swallowed hard and pulled myself together.

It turns out both Stephen and I shared a love of cooking and we passed the time sharing tips. When everyone had, eventually, managed to finish their plates, we both got up and cleared the table.

Chris joined us in the kitchen.

‘Hi, Susie, it’s nice to meet you. Mum’s been longing to get you over.’

‘She’s so kind. Thank goodness I’ve finally been able to come.’

‘Have you lived down here long?’

‘Nearly three years. What about you?’

‘We’re in London. But often visit. Don’t we?’ He turned to Stephen.

‘Yes, Lavender adores company. When we’re not around she’s on her own.’

‘On her own?’ Chris joked. He looked pale. ‘Mum’s got more friends than the three of us put together.’

‘How are you feeling?’ Stephen asked him.

‘Pretty dreadful.’

‘You must go back to bed then. Come, I’ll look after you.’

Chris turned to me. ‘I am sorry to do this.’

I was just about to say don’t worry, it’s okay, when Lavender entered the kitchen. ‘You youngsters chatting away in here,’ she tut-tutted. ‘Isn’t it nice to meet Suz? Looks just like her mother when I first knew her. But, hang on, you’re much older. What fresh looks you have.’ She stroked my face. ‘If I were you, I’d keep a hold of them.’

‘Mum.’

‘Yes, love.’

‘I feel so ill. I’m going to have to go to bed.’

Stephen put his arm around his husband’s shoulders.

‘Poor pops. Thank you for trying to stay up. Off you go then. Night, night.’

They both left the room and Lavender sighed, ‘Chris’s father and I weren’t a good example, nor was his step-father, but those two, you can’t separate them. It’s almost worse, don’t you think?’

I shrugged.

‘Single? Are you?’

‘Yup.’

‘Clever girl. Best way to be.’ She opened the fridge. ‘I’ve been on my own forty-six years. Here,’ she handed me a tray of chocolate pots, ‘help me take the lids off these.’

‘Did you make them?’

‘Me?’ she frowned. I’d been trying to flatter her. ‘No, no one makes dessert these days. Do they?’

I thought best go with the flow and replied, ‘I doubt it.’

The lids were all off and as Lavender turned to the fridge for cream she said, ‘Would you be kind and carry the tray? I get terribly unsteady with a drink in me.’

‘Of course.’

‘Potts & Co.,’ announced Jessica seeing the tray; she’d obviously had this pudding before.

Lavender came through with a large jug of cream, then, noticing me out on a limb, she bellowed, ‘George, move up a place so’s you’re next to Suz. Chris’s ill. He and Stephen have gone to bed.’

‘I’m so pleased,’ said George as she shuffled towards me, swapping over her glass and reaching for the bottle. ‘Now you can tell me all about what you were up to today.’ Her eyes were wide open, full of anticipation.

I don’t believe in fate but I do believe in grasping opportunities when they present themselves, and here I was with a stranger who’d been the face of an art fraud documentary. I had so many questions up my sleeve. I did not want to waste time discussing my day.

‘It’s difficult to know where to begin today. There’s not much to tell.’

‘Just launch straight in. I don’t need to know what you ate for breakfast.’ George found herself slightly more amusing than I did. Not that I didn’t laugh, just that I wasn’t the one swinging back on my chair with my mouth wide open.

‘I spent a lot of today in my car. It was dull. I’d so much rather talk about art fraud.’

‘Great. Let’s do that then. Do you know anything about it?’

‘Not a lot but I’ve always wanted to know more.’

‘Well, I’m afraid I was only the presenter but fire away with your questions and you never know, I might have the answers.’

This is great. George’s indifference to where my interest came from allowed me the freedom to ask whatever I wanted. And so I began, ‘I’ve often wondered how easy it would be to copy a nineteenth-century masterpiece and sell the original without anyone ever knowing.’

‘It’s not something generally kept secret. Many people have copies made of paintings before they sell them. You can go and see the process in pretty much any auction house. I