Page 285 of Double or Nothing

Of course Jack isn’t here.

The Gilded Table did its job.

I should be grateful.

I am.

But even so, the lack of his presence still hurts.

The auctioneer walks to the rostrum and conversation fades to nothing.

Christopher takes my left hand, proudly displaying the ring between us. He smiles at Bryce as he does it.

Asshole.

The auctioneer welcomes the room and delivers the formal announcements. Bids may come from the floor, telephone lines and online platform. The hammer price will not include the buyer’s premium.

Words that suddenly sound like another language.

Lot 1 appears onscreen.

A paddle rises near the aisle, another answers from the centre, and so the sale begins.

The pace surprises me. There is no drawn-out battle over every piece. Some lots attract two bidders. Others pass rapidly through half a dozen increments before the hammer falls.

Sold.

Next.

Sold.

Next.

Lot Eight.

Lot Twelve.

Lot Seventeen.

People enter and leave between lots. One man arrives, bids on a sculpture without removing his coat, wins it and disappears before the next work appears onscreen.

I stop listening to the figures. The series of pieces on offer becomes a blur.

Lot 47 waits in the distance.

I focus on breathing. Just breathing. Until Bryce shifts beyond Christopher and leans over the back of his seat.

I glance at him to find he’s looking towards the back of the room.

His expression changes. Only slightly, but enough. I know that expression.

Rolling in paint, upcycling shows, French cheese…

My pulse is faster than the auction bids when I follow his gaze.

At first, all I see are late arrivals standing in the shadows at the rear of the gallery. Dark suits, evening dresses and catalogues held against chests.

Then one man steps away from the wall.