A book of silences

Chapter eleven - pictures at an exhibition

The woman took her hand delicately and held it for a moment. "Bee. Cat. And you must be Bev. Sykes has told me so much about you all!"

Pleased, the three friends looked at each other. Sykes, a lecturer (and in Bev's mind at least, a painting demi-god), had spoken about them to others! Bee looked greatly complimented, whilst Bev sported a huge grin. For some reason, Cat just felt uneasy.

"Er, we were just looking for Sykes," said Cat, with a fixed smile. "If he's busy, we can come back later."

Laughing, the lady waved them into the studio as though it were her own. "Come in, come in. You are all Girls With Promise, I've been told." (Not even Bee, their intellectual rad-fem party member, objected to being called a girl by this woman). Who was she, another painter? Lecturer? Curator? She followed them into Sykes' large studio space and closed the door after them.

"Now stand there," she said, positioning them on the rug in the center of the room with a smile and a lazy gesture. The three friends, feeling a little nervous around this commanding woman, positioned themselves in a rough triangle, with Cat front and center, and looked around. The studio was the same as they'd seen it before, with Sykes' portraits positioned in a rough circle, and sketch books, paints and brushes all neatly arranged on desks. Standing in the middle of the room felt a little uncomfortable, with all the paintings seemingly focused on them, though Cat noticed the painting of the lady was covered by a large painter's cloth.

There was no sign of Sykes, and Cat looked at the woman quizzically. She waved away Cat's querying look and sat in the one chair in the room. She occupied it like it was a throne. "Let's overlook the pleasantries, shall we, and move onto business. I don't really have much time" She folded her hands carefully on her lap and leant back, regarding the three friends intently for a few moments.

"I am looking for a book," she continued. Her smile this time was not at all friendly, but cold and scary. "About so big." She measured the size of the book with her hands. "Old, a lovely leather cover, full of words. Very special words. Do any one of you know anything about it?"

There was a shocked silence and the friend's defensive triangle became a little tighter. Cat slipped her hand inside her bag, groping for her knife. She felt Bev turn a little on her left to keep the woman in full view, and Bee became still on her right. Strangely she felt as though they were being watched not just by Sykes and the woman, but by the paintings as well. "No," she said, defiantly.

The woman rested an elbow on her knee and put her chin on her hand, regarding Cat with hard eyes all the time. "I'm afraid I don't believe you, my dear," she said. "You positively reek of it!"

Cat racked her brain for a smart reply. This was not the conversation she was expecting when they'd entered Sykes' room, and she felt strangely reluctant to talk to the woman. She felt Bev stir at her side.

"Well, you can just fuck off then! And firstly, she's not your dear. Secondly, that's bull spunk you can smell; I'm surprised you didn't recognize it!"

Cat grinned; you had to forget the clever repartee with Bev around. Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. "Yeah, fuck off, you old bag. Where's Sykes, and what are you doing in his studio, you arse-biscuit."

More silence, then quietly she heard Bee sigh and say, "Yeah, what they said."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "I see what Sykes meant. You are delightfully full of teenage truculence, and at any other time I would enjoy slowly breaking you of the habit. Now, however, I am far too busy. Again, where is the book?"

"Fuck off!" Bev answered from beside Cat's.

The woman sat herself straight in the chair and her voice became harsher, more formal. "A third time I ask. Where is the book?"