Spray Painted Bananas

Chapter 33

I shouldn't have worried so much about whether or not people would come. There's already a short queue at the door and a woman ticking off names from a guest list. I'm conscious of myself smiling confidently at everyone. The truth is I'm desperate for a familiar face. I keep glancing at the door hoping to see Farrell. I thought he'd come with Egg but Egg's already here tucking into a glass of wine and talking to Eleanor who's wearing a shirt covered in miniature embroidered cats. The last time I glanced over she was pulling it taut over her chest so he could examine them better, the cats I think, not her breasts which are sufficiently visible as they are.

A girl hovers by me with a tray of prosecco and I gratefully take a glass. I need something in my hands so I stop looping my fingers through the tassles of my new dress. I panic bought it this morning from the local high street. It's black with a gold geometric pattern running through it; it's what Cleopatra might have worn if she'd been a flapper. It's a dress to dance in, not for standing around trying to look important. My hands suddenly fly up to my neck where I expect to feel the price label sticking out. But no, I did cut it off.

Relax, this is your show!

Elliott arrives with a waif-like girl in a dusky pink dress. I look on curiously as he fetches her a glass of wine and for a moment she stands alone looking slightly lost. I head over to her, perhaps because I recognise that feeling and don't want anyone else to feel it.

'Hi,' I say, offering my hand. 'I'm Amber.'

She shoots me a nervous smile. 'Lauren.'

Elliott joins us. 'Oh, I see you've met.'

'Oh,' she gasps. 'You're the Amber. Oh my god, I love your work.'

I feel slightly embarrassed. I'm struggling to call what I've done 'work'.

'Lauren is an artist too,' Elliott says, his eyes not meeting mine.

'Oh what a surprise!' I say, biting my lip to stop myself laughing. What a relief not to care.

A waitress stops beside us, 'Would you care for a goujon?'

My eyes light up as I look over the array of fancy chicken nuggets. 'Yes please, are they from Flamingo Catering?'

The woman smiles knowingly. 'Vicky sends her love.'

'Only her love? No sacks of anything?'

'No, I'm afraid not,' She casts her eyes up at the gigantic banana suspension above us shimmering under the spotlights. 'I think you do better making the fruit yourself.'

'Thank you, I appreciate it.'

'So what will you be doing next Amber?' Lauren says.

I've just caught sight of my parents in the queue. It's the perfect excuse to dodge the irritating question. Can't I enjoy one evening without worrying about the future? I head over as my Mum bursts in, voicing her approval as loudly as she can. My Dad stops, hands in pockets and stares up at the bananas.

'I hope that's fixed on properly,' he says. 'It won't look good if someone gets killed at the opening night.'

'Or any other night for that matter,' my Mum says, enveloping me in a big hug. 'You look stunning Amber.'

'Thanks Mum. Can I get you drink?'

'I bet it's pricey in here,' my Dad says, lowering his voice. 'Everyone's very lah-di-dah, aren't they?'

'It's free.'

My Dad looks like a light has just switched on in his head. 'Oh, so that's why you were always going to gallery openings. I thought you were just being a snob.'