Page 146 of Double or Nothing

What? How?

I smile before I can stop myself.

Just by being me.

Her reply comes a few seconds later.

You expect them to seek me out in invitation? Good luck with that.

She adds a laughing emoji. It only spurs me on.

I won’t need any.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

There it is again.

That stupid little hit under the ribs.

First a toastie maker, now at the thought of getting Alice’s paintings sought out for some stuck-up art auction. At this rate, I’ll need a lie-down and some trauma therapy.

I open my email and draft a message to Camilla Stour. I do not fake being Alice herself. Better to approach as buyer interest. Create the heat before presenting the fire.

Subject line.

Private Buyer Enquiry. Upcoming Contemporary Auction.

No. Too dull.

Collector Interest in Alice Rose Parker,

Better.

I lean back and think.

Alice Rose Parker.

Soul Girl.

Imposter syndrome wrapped in gold foiling. A woman standing in her studio like her paintings might emotionally scar her if she believes in herself too much. Bryce looking at her work as if someone has just shown him the light of God. Me, apparently, getting gooey about toastie makers and art auctions like a man in need of supervised care.

I start typing.

Dear Ms Stour,

I explain that I’m attending in a buyer capacity. That I’ve recently acquired early works by Alice Rose Parker. That I understand she may be considering submitting three new pieces of significant scale and intensity. That there is already private interest, which is true because I am interested. Very interested. Just not for myself.

I mention Redwick Hospice.

Sixty thousand.

I mention collector movement.

I imply, delicately, that withholding her from the lot list would be a missed opportunity.

Then I pause at sign off.

It needs a name.