‘How fascinating. May I keep the pictures?’
‘Oh. Better not. Would you mind if, you know, perhaps you could take some photos of them?’
Tabitha sighed.
‘This is all very cloak and dagger, I must say. All right then. Let’s spread them out on the floor and I’ll take a few snaps.’
They spent the rest of the morning trying to achieve the perfect photographic representation of each picture and sharing ideas about how to publicise Jason’s work.
Jenna left with an unsettled feeling at the pit of her stomach that owed as much to fear as it did to excitement. She was pleased to know that she was not alone in rating his paintings highly, but on the other hand, she had gone behind his back, and wished it could all be above board.
She called in at her company’s London office after a solitary picnic lunch on its roof garden, then set straight back off on the long drive to Bledburn.
As mile after mile passed, she thought about all the offers her assistant had turned down on her behalf. Oodles of TV shows, adverts, voiceovers, appearances, free holidays had been offered and rejected. Every newspaper and celeb magazine wanted to know if there was a chance of reconciliation between her and Deano. He had made some veiled remarks in an interview, apparently, that made it seem as if it were on the cards. She would have to look that interview up, then send him an irritated email requesting him to keep her name out of his PR exercises.
These thoughts preoccupied her all the way home, so much so that they were still on her mind when she opened the front door. The sight of Jason, sitting on the bottom of the stairs reading yesterday’s newspaper both startled and alarmed her.
‘God,’ she said. ‘There you are.’
‘Here I am,’ he said, putting the paper down beside him and giving her a raised eyebrow of disapprobation. ‘Did you forget about the bed?’
‘What?’
‘A delivery lorry turned up. Hammered at the door for ages before shoving this card through. I thought I’d best not answer it. You never know whether it’s a trap.’ He held it out.
‘Shit, I totally forgot! I did order a bed to be delivered today. Damn. Oh, well, I’ll just have to phone them …’
She trailed off.
Jason had spotted the portfolio under her arm. Why hadn’t she left it in the car until the coast was clear?
‘What are you doing with that?’
He reached out for it. With some reluctance, she handed it over.
His eyes were hard, black coals.
‘Well? Are you going to answer me? Why have you taken my stuff out with you? What’s going on, Jen?’
She sat down beside him on the stairs and took a deep breath.
‘I took them to London with me.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Don’t panic. Your name wasn’t mentioned, nobody knows about you.’
‘What,’ he asked, very slowly and deliberately, and not a little menacingly, ‘have you done?’
‘I wanted a professional opinion on your work, so I showed them to a friend who runs an art gallery in London.’
‘You did what?’
‘Oh, don’t. What’s wrong with that? She loved them. She thinks you’re brilliant. Jason!’
But he had shot to his feet and was storming upstairs, portfolio in hand.
By the time Jenna had gathered herself together to give chase, he stood on the landing. He withdrew one of his pictures – a dense landscape of terraces painted in a vertiginous, swirling pattern – held it up to her, then ripped it clean in half.