Page 3 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

As I was calming down a little, I started to realize that maybe I had over-reacted a teeny tiny bit. I mean, deep down I think I was pleased he’d had some success, and I would believe that more when I was less hurt myself. But what was angering me now was the misogynist aspect of this new gallery, the thoughtlessness of my so-called friend, and the fact he had actually said I shouldn’t bother contacting the gallery. Was he being truthful, or just trying to put me off?

As I was soul-searching, I heard a key turn in the lock. Rosie was back from standing in St James Square, helping out on a photo shoot for Darling! Her cheeks were pink and her shiny curls bounced around her ears. She had a rainbow, chiffon scarf tied in a big bow, keeping the curls off her face, and as she smiled her blue eyes danced with amusement.

‘I just saw Damien in the street,’ she said. ‘He’s got a new hat.’

Gosh, I must have drunk that gin sling really quickly if he was still lurking around outside. That was why my head was swimming a bit then.

Also, Damien wore a lot of beanie hats, and I’m surprised Rosie noticed a new one. Damien’s hair was dark and quite long, and he had a ring through one nostril and three piercings in his left ear. That’s what he said anyway. His hair had been so long for — well, so long — that I couldn’t swear to that one.

Also, he wanted a tattoo but was scared of pain.

Rosie had dated Damien briefly and it had fizzled out. Thankfully, though, there was no awkwardness — after all, they were both my friends, and much as I loathed Damien at that moment, he was usually much more tolerable.

‘He said that he’d got an exhibition, and you weren’t very happy with him,’ continued Rosie.

‘That’s obviously why he was lurking,’ I grumbled. ‘He knew you were due in and wanted to boast. Get his story in first. I’m actually not very happy with him.’ I poured Rosie a cocktail and placed it in her eager, outstretched hand. ‘I just got dumped by Glen and my oldest friend didn’t even sympathize, he just ran off and signed up for something instead. Not fair.’

‘That’s a bit crap of Glen. Awful man.’ She reached out and patted my hand. ‘I never liked him. Ever.’ She flashed a quick smile. ‘I’ll buy us a takeaway tonight and we can call him names over our favourite movies.’

‘That, Rosie, is why I love you best.’

Rosie grinned. ‘I know. Damien says it’s a new gallery, though? A chance he had to take? Something about it being a blokey gallery?’

I growled again, and not even under my breath. ‘It sounds awful. In fact, it shouldn’t be allowed to stay open. Goes against all bra-burning and suffrage in the entire history of bra-burning and suffrage.’

‘That does sound extreme. So what can we do about it?’ Rosie sat down at the breakfast bar opposite me and took a big glug of her drink.

‘I don’t know. If I can’t get out there and make people like me, I’d love to get my work out there, and make people like it. For validation.’ I think I would, anyway, I added silently. But then the gin slings took over and I started blustering again. ‘Yes. I want my work somewhere really, really good, and much, much better known than that place. Then I’d show him.’ I took an even bigger glug of my drink. ‘And I’d show people like Glen who only value gym bunnies and not normal people.’

We sat in silence for a moment, then Rosie suddenly went: ‘Ooh!’ really loudly.

I jumped, startled and stared at her. ‘Rosie! What was that for?’

She widened her eyes and fixed her gaze on me. ‘I might just have an idea! My dear Matilda. Padcock.’

‘Padcock?’ I was confused. ‘Padcock where Jay works? Near your mum and dad?’

‘The very same. You know how we’re going down to see him this weekend for his birthday party?’

I nodded, still uncomprehending.

‘Jay’s boss and his fiancée are really good friends with Edith Hill and Ninian Chambers. If anyone knows a better place to show off anything arty, those two do. They’re really famous! And they’re heading down there for Jay’s party, sooooo . . .’ She waggled her eyebrows at me. ‘It won’t hurt to get their advice.’

‘I suppose not.’

Rosie shrugged, unconcerned. ‘In moments such as these, dear Matilda, one must think to oneself — “what would Damien do?” And I tell you, he wouldn’t hesitate to ask, nay, demand advice if he had access to someone.’

I sat up straighter on my stool. ‘Damien would do. He would do . . . that. He would indeed.’ I nodded.

I think the gin slings and blustering had kicked in for both of us. To be fair, it didn’t take much to get Rosie pickled anyway. But she didn’t usually bluster so this was an interesting side to her.

‘He would indeed,’ blustered Rosie. ‘So — I think it’ll be okay to have a chat with Edie and Ninian, at the very least?’

‘Defo. Absolutely defo.’

But I wasn’t sure what they could advise me, and it wasn’t like I had a “name” in the art world — so I suspected it was a road to nowhere.

But we were going to a party. A party in Padcock.