The Girl With Ten Claws (The Adventures of Benedict and Blackwell) Page 6

  “What did you-?”

  “Good god O’Connell!” a man exclaimed patting Brynn hard on the shoulder, making us both jump. “Is this the little lady your muse?”

  I was about to open my mouth to protest when Brynn had suddenly pulled me to him, his scent of mint enveloping me. “Indeed she is,” he said with a nod.

  My ribs were crushed up against him as he held me to his side, his fingers pressing into my arm in a way that screamed- shut your mouth!

  “Extraordinary,” the man said, gazing at the pictures and then to me. “Really, they are stunning!”

  The man in question was tall and slender, wearing a pristine slate grey suit and brown shiny shoes. His hair was wavy, his skin tanned from countless holidays abroad, and his face had the air someone who had never known poverty. I don’t know what it was about the aristocracy- it was something in the way they blinked, the way they held their mouths, the way they tilted their heads that gave away their upbringing.

  I was from a completely different world.

  He held out his hand to me. “How rude of me, Vincent Killney.”

  I gave him my useless hand to shake but he grabbed it and touched it to his lips instead.

  “A pleasure,” he said, releasing it.

  My fingers twitched in distaste, my skin prickling with unreleased energy and I looked to Brynn pointedly.

  “Well, O’Connell?” Vincent said, putting his hands behind his back expectantly. “Aren’t you going to introduce your breath-taking muse to me?”

  Brynn started, as if lost in a bazaar dream. “Yes, this is Ellena Blackwell, my partner.”

  Vincent’s eyes widened at the word partner. It didn’t even register on my own mind until too late of what he must have thought.

  “Partner!” he exclaimed. “Well, as if that isn’t jolly! You’ve kept that quiet, O’Connell.”

  Seeing his presumption of the word ‘partner’ I opened my mouth to correct him, wanting to scream out; ‘Business partner! Business partner!’ My attempted correction was quickly swallowed as Brynn squeezed me harder.

  “Thank you,” he said politely with a small nod of the head. “We like to think so.”

  My face must have been a picture and I quickly downed my glass to hide it.

  “You must be parched, dear!” Vincent laughed amusedly and took my glass from me without asking. “Please, allow me to get you a fresh one.”

  He threw Brynn a wink and then left.

  Not all the antidotes in the world could save Brynn from the venom in my voice. “What on earth is going on?”

  Brynn took me away from the photographs and into a smaller room with no exhibition. He ran a hand through his dark hair looking bewildered.

  “I didn’t expect you to come,” he said finally.

  “Apparently so.” I folded my arms over my chest, angry and confused. Why had he taken those pictures of me?

  “You were good to photograph,” he said then, as if guessing my thoughts. “I’m sorry- I had only taken some as practise and then when they were printed, I realised at how amazing they looked. I had to show them.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged and looked away.

  “Why, Brynn?”

  He finally looked at me, the lines of his jaw hardening. “I had a portfolio and they were the ones that people showed the most interest over. So that’s what I did.”

  I shook my head, a pounding headache taking hold. “But when- how- Oh God, why is this happening?”

  He didn’t answer, but continued to stare at me, an unreadable look in his eyes.

  “Plus- why did you let him believe that we’re partners?”

  “We are,” he said stubbornly, pointing at me as though he had won his touché moment.

  I batted his hand away. “You know what I mean!” I hissed. “Why did you let him believe we were in a relationship?”

  Brynn had never looked this flustered before, and I had to admit- it was a nice change to the assertive and bossy person I knew in Craggy’s. “Vince is a womaniser,” he said weakly. “I thought you might have wanted to stay away from that.”

  I frowned and then let it pass. “I can look after myself, Brynn,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m very capable of telling a man to jog on.”

  “Not when that person might be buying the work though.”

  Brynn shushed me as soon as I opened my mouth to swear and I slammed it shut- just when Vincent walked in through the door. He had given me his card when Brynn had been talking to someone else, and I was intending to throw it in the nearest bin possible.

  “Oh, there you are!” he said walking in with a glass of champagne in each hand. “To your wonderful muse.” He passed me a glass and lifted it up as toast.

  I allowed him to clink glasses and threw Brynn a fake smile that said he was dead.

  He had titled the works ‘The Girl With Ten Claws.’

  I’ll show you my claws, O’Connell.

  We argued back and forth for the rest of the night between stolen moments. Vince seemed to want to know every point of my life for some reason, and I wasn’t in any mood to play nice. I had had enough.

  Making my excuses, I called Helen and told her I would meet her back at the flat. She had given me a spare key in case of emergencies- and this counted as one. I needed to get back to Ben.

  “Where are you going?” Brynn grabbed my wrist as I stepped out of the museum, the cold air hitting me hard.

  “Back to my friend’s,” I snapped. “I’ll see you back in Croyde.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Brynn said, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You know if anyone buys a piece where the money will be going, don’t you?”

  “No.”

  He rolled his eyes and stepped nearer to me. “It’ll go towards the refurbishment of the museum, Ellena,” he said, reaching out and holding my upper arms, the heat from his skin sinking into mine. “That’s why I did it.”

  I blinked in confusion. “Fine,” I said, my jaw hardening. “But I want you to pull the rest out by tomorrow, ok? I don’t like the thought of my mug being put in someone’s house.”

  Brynn nodded. “Done, ok?” He paused and then released my arms abruptly, as if just realising what he had done. He cleared his throat and shifted his feet awkwardly. “I’m going back tomorrow. Do you need a lift home?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Ellena?” Brynn said, halting my steps. “You really do look good, you know.”

  I shivered and carried on walking.

  My head was messed up, and I was finding myself crave for the same oblivion that always usually gave me a soft landing. I bit my lip and looked out into the blinking lights of London, its golden glow urging me to return to its centre.

  Why on earth had I ever thought about going home early?

  I woke the next morning with a cat on my face. Groaning with the same apprehension of a hangover, I reached out for the glass of water I knew Helen had put out for me.

  Picking up my phone I saw two missed calls from Chris and three from Brynn. “Oh God,” I moaned, shoving it back under my pillow. “What the hell do they want?”

  Chris just wanted to meet up for a cup of tea apparently, and I was gutted by the fact that even though I had arranged to meet him, I had never even gotten round to it.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologised down the phone after being moaned at for fifteen minutes, my head threatening to split in two. “We can meet next time I come up?”

  “And when will that be?” he whined. “Oh yeah, I’m sure you’ll be right up next weekend. I’ve cancelled plans for you! I was going to see Leona Lewis!”

  “Did you?”

  A pause. “Well, no, of course not,” he finally admitted. “I had a feeling you would cancel.”

  A sinking feeling in my stomach threatened to spill out the contents of last night’s beer feast. How bad a friend was I? But then again, Chris would find it difficult to ever really cancel a Leona Lewis concert, so I took it with a pi
nch of salt.

  “Look, I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” I said. “I’ll come up with Brynn next time he has a show.”

  “Oh Brynn!” Chris’s voice changed to a hushed excited tone. “Is this the guy who snogged you at the old man’s funeral? Knows how to pick his moments doesn’t he?”

  I rolled my eyes and told him everything that had happened last night.

  “Oh my God!” Chris exclaimed after I told him, my heart beating hard at the memory of seeing my face plastered all over the walls.

  “I know,” I agreed.

  “That’s unbelievable!”

  “I know.”

  “He totally likes you!”

  “I kn- hey!” I sat upright in bed, Ben falling from my chest and meowing in protest. “He does not!”

  “Hmmm,” came a smug tone. “I suspect she doth protest too much.”

  I ate a fry up with Helen in a café, scowling over the last sausage that I couldn’t manage to eat.

  “You did ask for the big daddy,” Helen said through a mouthful of egg, her fork pointing at me accusingly. “Now I’ve paid for that- and you’re going to eat it.”

  I groaned and hung my head in my hands. “I think I’m dying.” I didn’t have to look up to know that she was rolling her eyes.

  “I can’t believe he did that,” she said again for the seventh time.

  I growled and slammed my knife and fork down. “Can we just leave it now?”

  “What?” she held her cutlery in defence against my annoyance and then continued to eat. “Look- I’m just saying that it’s very interesting- that’s all.”

  “Yeah, yeah, so you’ve said.”

  We left it at that whilst she replied to her many texts and I asked to have the rest of my breakfast wrapped up in a doggy bag to take back.

  “Is it for your dog?” the waitress kindly asked.

  “No, it’s for her cat,” Helen said without looking up from her phone. I threw her a dark look as the woman made an uncertain laugh and walked away.

  My phone stopped me from saying anything else as my Lord of the Rings theme tune started blaring out. I picked it up seeing Brynn’s name on the screen.

  “You’re interrupting my breakfast,” I said grumpily.

  “We have a problem.”

  I met Brynn at the art gallery, Ben hidden in my bag and my travel case bumping along behind me. I had said my goodbyes to Helen, promising to come back soon. She had wanted me to stay longer, but to be honest I think if I had one more night out with her I would probably die.

  “What’s happened then?” Ben meowed, for once content to simply lie in my bag. He was pleased with the breakfast I had brought him and was currently lying comatose on one of my jumpers.

  “Brynn’s in trouble,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Ben stayed silent. I had already told him everything last night- Helen being too drunk to realise I was talking to my cat and too busy throwing up this morning to hear our continued conversation.

  “But he said it was for the museum,” Ben had meowed.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said beneath the duvet. “He didn’t tell me. He would have sold all of those pieces without me even knowing.” My scowl deepened against the freezing wind as I thought of my face being in strangers’ houses, having my most private moments paraded in front of rich people’s guests and family.

  Plus why had he even picked me?

  I had no idea of what had happened at the gallery- except that Brynn didn’t sound too much as though he was looking forward to our meeting. I had brought my luggage in case I would have to make a swift exit to the train station. I wasn’t looking forward to the train changes and the hours sitting next to strangers, but I was craving my bed back at Craggy’s. Normalcy.

  I smiled bitterly. It wasn’t long ago when I had counted normalcy as working at the college back in Warwickshire. That used to be my normal. Not being shot used to be my normal.

  The museum loomed up ahead of me, its white surface bringing up memories of last night. The way people looked at me as I stepped in. The taste of champagne. The black and white photographs of my haunted expression staring back at me. Brynn’s face when he saw me dressed in Helen’s finest. Bewilderment. Confusion. Worry.

  Brynn was waiting for me in the foyer of the museum as I stepped in. He glanced at my bag knowingly and his jaw hardened in recognition.

  “You didn’t,” he said, disbelievingly shaking his head.

  I lifted my chin defiantly. “What’s the problem?”

  He looked different today for some reason. Stubble darkened his chin, making him much more recognisable to me from the way he had appeared last night. He wore a dark green jumper and smart trousers. I wondered if he had actually slept in the suit last night and had just thrown on a pullover. His hair was messy and looked as though he had been running his hands through it worriedly for the past hour.

  His face usually tanned was pale and he had a look in his eyes as though he had barely slept. “Ellena, the portraits…”

  I stared at him, trying to fathom out what he was saying. Dread started to coil in my gut. “What, Brynn?”

  He stared at me, unable to say it.

  I dropped my case and made for the room where his exhibition had been.

  He swore behind me and with a scraping of metal, I knew he had picked up my luggage. “Wait, Ellena,” I heard him call. “I can explain!”

  Rooms and visitors passed me by, Ben meowing in protest as he bopped up and down on my shoulder until he finally jumped out. My steps quickened and I nearly ran into someone as I passed through the last room, Ben faithfully at my side.

  People stared at us in confusion as if we were some unknown art exhibition ready to be stripped apart for mental consumption. Brynn’s room opened out to us, the walls stretched out in welcome and ready for my piecing glare.

  But there were no art pieces. Nothing.

  Every single picture had been taken down, no sign that they were ever there. I turned around slowly to face Brynn, my alarm echoed on his face. “Where are the photographs?”

  He could barely look me in the eye. “They’re gone.”

  The word ‘gone’ hit me hard in the gut. “What do you mean, gone?” I gasped. Ben meowed at my feet and I caught him as he jumped. I think he may have done it so I wouldn’t lunge for Brynn. “Where?”

  Brynn put down my luggage case and stepped towards me. “Someone bought them all last night,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Who?” I snapped.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  I tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling. The dread in my gut uncoiled and spread to my arms. “Why did you do this?” I said quietly.

  I didn’t have to look at him to know that he was shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “I never thought I would get this far. Ellena… the pictures of you were... I’m sorry they’ve gone- but it’s going towards a good cause. You know that right?”

  My gaze snapped back to his so hard it made him flinch. “You should have told me,” I said coldly. “If I hadn’t of come here, you would have sold them anyway- and would have I known?”

  His jaw clenched. “I would have said.” But the tone in his voice told me that he hadn’t even planned to get this far. “I wasn’t going to show them,” he said. “I promise. I brought my portfolio and they picked those ones.”

  Surprise flared through me and I narrowed my eyes. “What was I doing in your portfolio in the first place?”

  The surprise was catching because Brynn picked up my luggage again. “I don’t know,” he said quickly. “I had a load of extra prints put in there of everyone- they probably just liked them because you were in most of them.” He glanced at me and then quickly looked away. “Because we work a lot together.”

  Ben meowed at Brynn, diverting his attention.

  “I can’t believe you brought that cat with you.”

  But I wasn’t in the mood for him to change t
he subject. “So how much money did we get?”

  Brynn couldn’t help but let a smile escape him. “We got twelve thousand.”

  “Shit!”

  A hush descended around us as quickly as a bomb. I glanced around and then slapped a hand over my mouth.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “That much? Really?” With that money we could do all we wanted to the museum and more! We could set up marketing- even explore the idea of doing the boating trips. I could see the same excitement reflected in Brynn’s eyes and I realised that I could forgive him.

  He must have seen it because he then gave me a soft punch to the arm. “So… you fancy that lift home then?”

  I thought about a lot of things on the drive back. I had been tempted to get the train- just to make a point, but the thought of simply sitting in the truck and being chauffeured home with no changes, no weirdoes sitting next to me and no chance of getting the wrong train was too appealing.

  Ben had lain sprawled across the dash, and then after a couple of hasty brakes due to idiots on the road, he decided to lie on my lap instead.

  Brynn attempted to make conversation by excitedly talking about what we could do with the museum now. An excited curator had asked Brynn for our address for any more upcoming pieces. The buyer had expressed an interest of procuring more art, but if they were to be of myself, it was definitely going to be a no. After writing all the information down, mindful of my narrowed gaze, Brynn had handed out a few business cards and said his goodbyes.

  I was happy for him that he was becoming a recognised photographer- it was what he loved, but I still had a sour taste in my mouth from last night. The thought of someone having images of me in their house, still made me uncomfortable.

  I decided to suck it up. I would never meet that person, it was done and dusted and we had twelve thousand pounds to sort out Old Marley’s place.

  Brynn really was trying hard to make it up to me as well. We stopped at a service station half way down and he bought me a Boneless Banquet from KFC. We banned Ben from joining us, but I gave him a squeeze to let him know I’d bring him some back.