Page 20 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

‘Of course it isn’t.’ Then Jay surprised me by grabbing my hand and starting to march us straight through the imposing door into the sacred atmosphere of Julio’s.

I dug my heels into the pavement and hung onto his arm. I had a surprising weight behind me when I was reluctant to do anything, and this was one of those moments.

‘No!’ I said, startling Jay. ‘I can’t. Don’t make me do it!’

He stopped, and looked at me, stunned. ‘Matilda! I’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to do.’ We were stuck there, halfway between a London pavement and a posh, upmarket gallery, and my heart was beating like it was going to come out of my chest.

For some reason, I was actually terrified. ‘I can’t do it,’ I whispered. I shook my head. ‘No. It was a nice idea, and I’m grateful to Edie for suggesting it. But I can’t. I mean, much as I dislike what Damien did, he did it himself. He didn’t stoop to nepotism.’ I wasn’t sure if this would actually count as nepotism or not, to be honest. I certainly didn’t know Edie well enough for it to be nepotism. But it felt like something pretty close. Or at the very least it would be nepotism if I went back to Edie and asked for her to hook me up with a Julio exhibition.

‘Okay.’ Jay looked at me with something like sympathy in his eyes. ‘Well — we are just going in for a look, you know? We’ve come all this way, and it seems a shame not to at least see what it’s like inside. We don’t have to mention Edie or anything. We’re just two tourists, having a look.’

‘I can do that,’ I said, nodding. ‘Yes. I can be a tourist. Let’s just look. No harm in looking.’

‘None at all.’ He waited a moment more to let me collect myself. He was still holding my hand, which, I think, was a surprise to us both. I was very aware of the warm feeling embracing my fingers, and as if realizing it together, we both looked down at the same time.

Then he released my hand.

I moved one step away from him, and we both said nothing for a moment.

‘It’s up to you,’ said Jay.

‘No harm in looking,’ I repeated.

‘Good. Shall we?’ And he held the door open for me to walk in first.

* * *

The sound of our footsteps was swallowed by a plush, duck-egg blue carpet, which led up to a pale-wood desk that an extremely beautiful woman stood behind. She smiled politely as we walked into the gallery, and I noted her ash-blonde hair was in a perfect French bob.

‘Hello,’ she said, smiling at us.

I was so nervous, I just stared at her gormlessly. It really was ridiculous that I was so nervous — I was just here to look at some pretty pictures, that was all.

Luckily, I think Jay noticed my discombobulation, as he smiled at the woman and said confidently: ‘Hello. My friend and I are just going to have a look around. We’ve heard good things about the gallery.’

‘Oh!’ The lady, Margot, according to her discreet name badge, smiled even more widely. ‘It’s good to know our reputation precedes us.’

‘Indeed it does,’ said Jay.

‘My friend has an exhibition coming up at Machismo,’ I heard a shrill, squeaky voice pipe up. ‘But we think this place is better.’ I was horrified to realize, a split second later, that it was my voice.

‘We’re glad to hear that,’ said Margot. ‘Please — have a look around. I’ll just be here if you need to ask anything.’

I smiled in what I knew was a sickly sort of fashion — I would certainly not be asking the price of any of the exhibits in here. I could already tell this place was definitely way out of my league.

‘Thank you.’ Jay, the consummate professional, nodded and he turned towards the first wall of paintings. I trotted after him like a puppy dog.

The wall had a sign on it entitled ‘Wastelands’. The paintings were — odd — to say the least. For example, there were some dubious organic substances smeared across the canvases to resemble landscapes — stuff like the gunk you’d find in a stagnant pond, and the horrible mud you’d get at the edge of a bog. I think one had some worms or something stuck in it, all crispy-looking and withered.

I averted my gaze.

And that was a mistake as my eyes landed on a life-size, half-melted waxwork thing looking like the face in Munch’s The Scream.

I blinked, shuddered and turned away — and walked swiftly into a smaller room, leaving Jay peering at the wormy things closely, looking equally horrified.

The new room wasn’t much better. There was a wall covered in more odd-looking, surreal landscapes, dotted with things that looked like — well — they could have been multi-coloured Mr Whippy ice creams minus their cones, but I wouldn’t swear to it.

Jay came in soon afterwards and saw me looking at the labels. He came to stand next to me, equally stunned, it seemed.