The Keeper

The Launch

Martha channelled all her hopes and dreams into her paintings. She painted from when she got up to when she crashed out to sleep, stopping only when she had to. Helen worried about her, but Martha said it was because this exhibition was the most important thing that had happened in her life. She didn't say it was because of who she wanted to be there. Helen was excited for her and supported her by daily invitations to lunch, which became more substantial when she found out that Martha wasn't stopping to eat at any other time.

When Martha called the courier to collect the finished canvases, she warned him he might need a bigger van than normal. There were eighteen paintings. They were in a sequence from dusk to dawn, expressing the dark soul of the night, punctuated by the movement of the stars, ending exhausted but with the excited anticipation of the day to come.

Robert was delighted with Martha's work, though his friend at the Serpentine had a headache getting it all to fit in the allotted gallery space. He succeeded only by pushing the first two paintings in the series out into the reception area.

"This is going to make me very unpopular – I'm sure I'm breaking dozens of health and safety protocols," said Cameron as he propped open the fire doors.

"It is an opening – let's open everything," said Robert as he uncorked champagne and filled glasses.

"I've never seen you shout for the French stuff before, old boy."

"Just two cases. I want the press to be in a good mood. By the time the cheap stuff comes out, they'll have made up their minds."

* * *

Martha couldn't believe how many people had squeezed into the gallery. Her friends and relatives were well outnumbered by the movers and shakers of the art world.

Robert guided her through the room, introducing her to reporters, critics, and buyers. All of them wore bright smiles and her cheeks hurt, attempting to reciprocate. Robert made sure she spent just the right amount of time alone with each person, before coming back to whisk her away to the next somebody she had to meet. When they had done the rounds, he steered Martha into the alcove behind the canapés, where they could view the main room.

"They love you, my dear. Everyone showed except for the guy from The Guardian, and he texted me to say he has food poisoning. My phone keeps pinging with interview requests and holds from the buyers – you've sold most of them already."

"That's amazing."

"You don't look amazed. You look like a stunned mullet. We're done with the schmoozing; now it's time to get some champagne into you. Enjoy yourself!"

Robert pulled her back into the room, found her parents and told them how exceptional their daughter was, before leaving her with them to close deals he needed to edge over the line.

Martha's parents hugged her.

"This is quite something," said her dad.

"We always believed in you, but didn't know others would see it too," said her mum.

Her dad was now crying. "Sorry, it's the champagne. It always has this effect on me. Of course, your paintings are lovely. We're so proud of you." He was too choked up to say any more, and her mum put her arm around him.

"Your father is a little tired – it was a long drive up."

Martha suddenly noticed how small her parents looked, surrounded by her friends and strangers. Little lost country mice in the big city. "Shall I get you a taxi to the hotel?"

"Yes!" said her mum, a little over-emphatically, before adding, "We can meet you for breakfast and find out what we missed."

"Of course. You must both be exhausted, and the hotel is lovely. I'm glad Robert is paying!"