‘I’m not understanding.’ I fold my arms, too. ‘You want me to give my photos away?’
He shakes his head, presses his hands together like a priest.
‘I’m assuming you’re living on private means at the moment, Serena? If that’s not too intrusive a question?’
I nod as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for a girl of twenty to have no visible means of support. ‘I’ve recently inherited a substantial sum of money. And I’ll get more when I sell the house.’
He stares at me a moment. I’m aware how cold that sounds. But I’m not an actress. I can’t affect sorrow or grief, or even gratitude, where there is none.
‘You’re alone in the world?’
‘I have my cousin, Polly – she’s the one who had the party last night, but she’s working as a stylist in New York at the moment. I told you I’m living in her flat. But Gustav, my money won’t last forever, not once I’ve bought property and so on. What do they say about paying monkeys with peanuts? I intend to earn a living. If we’re going to do this, if I’m ever going to be taken seriously, I need to do it properly. I need to sell these pictures!’
‘And you will, my – Serena. You will. Money will exchange hands in the usual way between the gallery and any buyers, commissioners or collectors. And the gallery will then split the sales fifty–fifty with the artist – you – which in itself is unusual. I usually sting my clients for at least eighty–twenty.’
I laugh, but he’s looking at me so seriously, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
‘So why give me the preferential treatment?’
‘Because I like you, Serena. I don’t think you realise what a find you are.’ He holds up his hand and starts ticking off points on his fingers. ‘Basics. You’re beautiful to look at, invigorating to be with, and what makes it even better is that you don’t know it. I have a painting in my house by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and you’re in it. No-one’s ever told you you’re gorgeous, have they?’
I shake my head. He had me at beautiful.
‘Not even the boyfriend you’ve left behind you. Because there’s always a boyfriend left behind. First love. But too callow, I’m guessing. Too young, once you’d seen a bit of the world. Too set in his ways and his horizons so much narrower than yours?’
Tears are fighting flattery here. How does he suss all that?
‘You’re young, and fresh, and undemanding. And like me you’re pretty much alone in the world, which gives you that hungry edge. Oh, there’s room for refinement. We’ll do a little work on you, me and my assistant. Continue what your cousin has started. Wardrobe, hair, make-up. Don’t frown at me. I love the waif-and-stray look. But this is a competitive business. You need to present a flawless face to your public, yes?’ He spreads out his hands, presenting his findings. ‘What do you think?’
‘Of your resume? More complimentary than my own profile.’
He taps the portfolio with his long fingers. ‘You want professional exposure and although I’ve never stopped working my personal life has taken a dive. I’ve been hibernating like a monk for too long.’
‘I’ve never met anyone who looks less like a monk!’
He grimaces. ‘I need re-tuning. The personal angle I’m after is pure pleasure. If pleasure can ever be wholly pure.’
I sit bolt upright in my chair, my knuckles white on my knees. He’s still a stranger, however mesmeric his eyes. Remember that. ‘And this personal pleasure will come from me?’
‘I want to be able to call you my own, Serena. For a measurable period. Enough to restore my faith in womankind. Sound odd to you? Well, I’ve been licking my wounds for too long. I took one look at you stalking those poor little witches yesterday, and I thought, that’s the girl to wake me up. I want that one.’
‘You thought I was a bloke when you first saw me!’
‘Only for a moment, till I got closer.’ His narrowed eyes gleam at the reminder. ‘And for once I was delighted to be proved wrong!’
I nod distractedly. ‘A measurable period, you said? You mean this doesn’t have to go on forever?’
He shakes his head and looks out of the window. I follow his gaze over the rooftops.
‘This is a deal. Not a life sentence. I’m suggesting until the very last photograph is sold. Between now and Christmas. I have been dragged down some very crooked, dark paths in the past. I need your company to shine a light. Just by being by my side, especially when the day’s graft is at an end. I want to wine and dine you. I want to see you blossom. It won’t be particularly chaste. I may as well warn you of that now. But I’m going to enjoy your gratitude.’
‘Doesn’t that work two ways?’
He laughs. ‘Of course. I will be grateful too. Believe me.’
‘Still makes me sound like more of an escort.’
He looks back at me and nods slowly. I watch his mouth for signs of a smile. ‘I realise how that sounds. And yes. It’s come out all wrong, but that is kind of what I mean.’
‘With the sex thrown in?’
‘I was getting to that. Please, don’t look so shocked. I didn’t have you down as a prude. Hear me out. There’s so much pleasure to be had out there, Serena, if you just know where to look. Do I look satisfied to you?’
‘Honestly? No. You look famished. Hungry like the wolf.’ I uncross my legs and stamp both feet on the ground. ‘But why me? I’m not pure as the driven snow, but I’m not exactly a woman of the world either. I’ve only had one. One boyfriend I mean. There must be heiresses and models and powerful women up and down the land with all kind of skills who would be delighted to oblige you!’
‘Gold diggers, sure.’ He gets up and walks away from me, to the corner of the building where it looks out over Westminster Bridge. Leans his forehead against the glass. ‘Cynical, bitter women who pounced as soon as I was single again and thought I’d wave a magic wand to make them comfortable with no effort on their part. I was taken in by my ex-wife. I was stupid. She was the woman with two faces. The face of an angel, the body and soul of the devil.’
I shift uncomfortably at the sudden bitterness in his voice. ‘Why didn’t you leave her, then?’
He doesn’t turn round. Talks to the window. ‘Besotted. Blinded. Belittled, in that order. And blamed. But the blame is all on me, because I should have known better.’
‘Sounds like a classic case of mental cruelty to me.’
‘You have a wise head on those slender shoulders, Serena. But I still need to be absolutely sure that you are the girl I think you are. Because if so, the rewards will be endless.’
‘And if not?’
He comes back towards me, stretches out his two hands and separates them as if swimming, or parting the Red Sea.
‘Where is she now?’
He sighs. That muscle is going in his jaw again. Either he’s the actor I’ll never be, or there is a real weight of sadness tugging at him, chaining him under those chalk stripes.
‘She’s gone. That’s all you need to know.’
‘So this isn’t a Rebecca scenario. The ghostly paragon hovering over our shoulders. The paragon I could never match.’
‘There are no paragons in my story. One younger brother. I took care of him all his life. We were thick as thieves until we were estranged. He witnessed things in our house he shouldn’t have, but when I tried to fix it, promised to change, she not only seduced him under my nose but succeeded in poisoning his mind.’ He