Page 59 of On The Edge

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Jess had in fact wrestled with the idea of contacting the police for a little while longer, but had eventually reluctantly agreed with Cat that the issue should be resolved without the authorities. The following day Jess got the gallery spring cleaned by Alan, who had shown up to everyone’s surprise, able and willing to work. Jess had curtly shown him the cleaning cupboard and left him to it, while the girls discussed ideas to generate other revenue in the business. Much to both Jess and Cat’s surprise, Alan gradually scrubbed down the whole place, taking breaks only when the odd customer came in. Jess decided to make the most of their free labour, and asked Alan to organise the painfully messy back studio the next day.

“Now - don’t even think about more vandalising, Al! Or I will hunt you down personally,” she said in a low voice, and left him to do his worst in the studio.

“You know, I think you’re actually enjoying this Jess,” Cat whispered, when the girls were alone together.

“I am a little,” Jess giggled, “but don’t tell him that!”

A week had passed, and like clockwork Alan would come in each morning to complete his duties. Cat no longer felt any uneasiness at him being there, so much so that he would be left to run errands or jobs for them, freeing up more time for the girls to paint. One evening when Cat locked up the gallery, she went into the studio to check on Alan. He was leaning on the giant table, scribbling on a sheet of paper.

“What are you doing?” Cat asked suspiciously, as he stood up quickly and hid the paper behind his back.

“I packed up all the older paintings, and organised them by name-of-artist. So... they can be posted next week.” Cat had given him the dull task of arranging and packing any unsold work from previous exhibitions, and she was heartily glad she had been able to delegate the job.

“Thanks Alan. But - what are you doing there?”

He shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. “Just doodling that’s all.” His face turned its usual tinge of pink when he spoke.

“Can I see?” It was a request that Cat knew he would need to submit to.

He closed his lips tightly for a moment, and placed the page back down on the table. His bright eyes shot her a scared look that Cat knew all too well. He was laying himself open to judgement. Cat took in the frantic pencil etching, unable to see what the drawing was exactly. It expressed pain and fury, whatever was going on in Alan’s head was reflected clearly back at her through the movement and sweep of the drawing.

“I like it,” Cat said simply to the stunned boy.

“Why?”

“I’m seeing into you, through your work. There’s a lot of emotion in this. Do you usually express yourself like this?”

Alan snorted, and Cat realised she would have to choose her words wisely with this audience.

“I mean, do you draw often?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes, if there’s free paper around.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged again.

Cat led him out, mulling over things as she locked the gallery up for another night, the drawing still lying face upwards in the centre of the table.

Cat took the time to set up paints, a canvas and an easel in the main gallery. It was the day that they were closed to customers, and Cat had been taken suddenly with an idea, and wanted to test it out. Alan knocked at the door and she took him through to the display area.

“What’s going on?” He was instantly suspicious, but Cat reassured him quickly.

“We’re closed today, so you’ll have no interruptions. I thought maybe you’d like some time to do more drawing. You don’t need to show anyone, this can be just for you to play around with. I’ve laid out some paints if you want to add colour. So go for it, whatever you want to do.” She quickly corrected herself: “On the canvas or the paper I've given you, I don’t want to see paint anywhere else, OK?”

Alan nodded in a daze, dropped his shoulder bag to the floor, picked up a paint brunch, and examined it as though it were a live animal.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, alright?” she called over her shoulder as she made her way to the door.

“You’re going to leave me here, by myself?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, why not, you’ve proved yourself reliable recently, so I want you to play around today, no jobs to do. OK?”

He nodded slowly, and Cat hoped that her trust wouldn’t be betrayed. Without any more ceremony, she quietly left the building, hoping that she had made the right decision, and that the gallery would still be in one piece when she returned.

A few hours later Cat reappeared at the studio door, both anxious and curious at what she might find. She unlocked the door to a bare-chested Alan sweeping his hand over the canvas, spreading scarlet red paint over a darkly abstract piece. Cat was delighted with what she was witnessing, he seemed fully absorbed in his work, and intent on expressing something in particular. As the bell above the door tinkled, he turned around with a jump, startled to see company.

“How’s things Alan?” Cat asked nonchalantly, as she placed her handbag on the front desk, and pretended to shuffle through some papers. The last thing she wanted was to draw too much attention to Alan’s work straight off the bat.

“Yeah, er... fine.” He stood still, looking from the painting to a distracted Cat. “Erm, thanks for letting me play around with the... stuff.”

Cat scanned through the paperwork on the desk, “Hmmm? Oh yes, of course, sure. How did it go?” She sauntered over and glanced at the painting. It was certainly an angry piece, but there was a kind of beauty there too, lurking beneath. “That’s fantastic, Alan.” She smiled at the awkward half naked young man, covered in paint.

He smiled at her for the first time, a broad, genuine smile, and Cat lit up inside. “I’ll maybe clean up, and be on my way.” He picked up the brushes and went to the back studio.

Cat stood, arms folded, in front of the brave painting, lost in the light and the shade. She had had another of her ideas, and that smile was proof that she might be on the right track after all.