‘I am not stalking you.’ I smile as I walk towards the back of the shop.
‘No, but you are,’ he calls. ‘You pop up in my inbox, on my phone, you come barging into my class and upend it and, now, you’re in here. Like a Magic 8-Ball, all signs point to yes, Katharine.’
I narrow my eyes at him as I slink away, which he readily copies. I hate that he’s right, though I’ll never admit it. Fiona is laughing as I walk through the office door.
‘He’s very jovial today,’ I whisper.
‘Oddly, he’s been like this all week.’ She winks at me. ‘Absolutely no idea why.’
‘Oh, no, don’t you do that. No.’ I wave a flustered hand by my face, peering out the door towards where he was just stood. It’s odd to consider that, after everything, I’d be the one responsible for his good mood. Surely not. Maybe he just got laid. I’ll bet that’s it.
‘He’s incredibly excited about the exhibition,’ she continues. ‘As in broken record.’
‘He is?’ I close the office door. ‘We haven’t spoken since Sunday, I think. I don’t know, it’s been a long week.’
In fact, I know it’s been that long since we spoke. Despite all the online traffic and fielding enquiries, it seems we’ve both been so busy we haven’t had time to talk.
‘How’d you go this week?’ Fiona drags my attention kicking and screaming out of cyberspace.
‘Amazingly, thank you,’ I say, taking a paper bag from her. I check to ensure all the sheets are in there. ‘How much do I owe you for this?’
‘It’s only a few quid,’ she says. ‘Just pay up the front with Kit.’
Kit. It’s such an odd nickname. When we first met, he always seemed so gruff and blunt and not at all playful in the way his nickname suggests. Even with what I know now, I can’t wrap my brain around any name other than Christopher. I lean into the door, spying him in one of the aisles. He’s not eavesdropping at all.
‘I’m just going to grab some other stuff on my way out,’ I say.
‘Sure thing.’ Fiona offers me what’s left of a limp tomato sandwich. ‘Come for lunch this weekend?’
‘I’d love to.’ I hug her and step back onto the shop floor.
Now that I’ve met with artists, my focus for next week is setting up the darkroom. If I can offer film processing, not only will it prop up cashflow, but it will be the perfect excuse to indulge in my own photography.
The last time I developed film may have been university, or just afterwards in the darkness of my bedroom. I’m sure I’ll be able to pick it up again quickly. With a little help from Google and the furthest corners of my memory, I’d spent the week compiling a list of everything I needed to buy.
I’m so busy stuffing my basket with safelights, trays, developer, stop bath and fixer, that I momentarily lose Christopher in the store. It’s not until I’m headfirst in an aisle of photography paper that he rounds the corner and stops on the spot.
‘Hello,’ I say.
His mouth twitches as he peers into my basket. ‘Chemicals? Sinister.’
‘It’s for the darkroom,’ I say. ‘And boiling random bodies.’
‘A darkroom?’ he says. ‘That’s one thing I’ve yet to master.’
‘You mean there’s something you don’t know?’ I clutch at my chest.
‘You’d be surprised.’ He follows me to the sales counter, where I start unpacking everything from my basket.
‘You know, you should be nicer to me. I’m your boss.’
He snorts. ‘You really aren’t.’
‘Technically, I am,’ I try, though I’m having a hard time not laughing. ‘Line of succession and all that. Works for the Queen.’
He snorts long and loud. ‘You idiot.’
I lean over the counter to check the total as he rings up the last item. ‘Yikes.’
‘You okay? If it’s a problem, I can put some of this aside and you can come back for it later?’
There he goes again on the toss of a coin, from raging innuendos to compassion in no time flat. I probably should put some of it back, but I’m too far gone now. I don’t want to look like a retreating idiot. I’m committed to the cause.
‘No.’ I scowl, quickly remembering the problem I do have. ‘Actually, what are you doing tonight?’
‘Well, hello there,’ he says, surprised. ‘Are you going to cook me dinner?’
‘She can’t cook!’ Fiona calls.
My jaw drops as I hand over my credit card. ‘I can cook.’
‘She exploded eggs last time she boiled them.’ She pops her head out of the office.
Christopher sniggers as he packs my bags and says, ‘Please tell me that’s not true.’
I stare at him.
‘It is true.’
He laughs again. ‘Katharine, that’s terrible.’
‘I forgot they were on the hob. I’d much rather have eaten them than clean them off my ceiling, I promise you.’
‘So, you’re not offering to cook?’ he continues.
‘What? No.’ I shake my head. ‘I was going to ask for your help though.’
‘Sorry, what?’ He leans further in. ‘You may have to repeat that.’
‘I need help.’
‘Sorry, I still can’t hear you.’ He leans in, hand cupped over his ear. ‘You’ll have to speak up.’
‘I said I need your help.’ This time, I’m louder. ‘Happy?’
‘A little,’ he murmurs. ‘What do you need help with?’
‘So, I spent this week meeting heaps of local artists and now I have all these submissions to go through. While I can sit there and calculate social media followings and tick a box that says I like their art, I’ve realised I’m not up to speed with the local scene yet. I thought you might have a better idea. I’d be keen to hear your opinions.’
‘Oh,’ he pips.
‘Don’t tell me you’re surprised.’
‘A little, yes. If you like, I can swing past after we lock up here today,’ he begins. ‘I’ll probably be about an hour or so?’
I nod. ‘I can work with that.’
Chapter 19
An hour later, I’m pacing like an expectant father, running through a list of things that need doing before Christopher arrives. Surfaces have been wiped clean, piles of papers tapped into shape, filthy dishes stashed in the dishwasher and I’ve done an FBI level of checking and hiding anything that could be incriminating.
Even though we’ve had some lovely moments these past few days, and even though I know both the flat and the gallery are clean, I’m terrified he’s going to take one look around and tell me it’s too dark, too small, unacceptable and we’ll be back to square one.
When I hear the rolling crunch of tyres on gravel in the car park, I bolt downstairs and swing the front door wide because here I am, I’m so excited, please don’t let this be painful.
‘Hello.’ I bounce on the balls of my feet.
‘Hey.’ He winces as he slams the door shut.