[RECAP: Lionel wants everyone to celebrate the sale of Mr Marek's painting of Sera, but what about Victoria?]
Later that week Lionel insisted on driving up from London and taking everyone to a celebratory dinner. Sera suspected his goal was also to see Lois but she kept her thoughts to herself. He had invited both of them but she didn't see how she could go if Mr Marek and Victoria were both going as well.
He picked them both up from Lois's place in his silver sports car. Sera gallantly offered to sit in the back as she knew Lois would want the front seat but it was horribly uncomfortable, there was no leg-room and her knees were practically squashed up to her chin.
She could see why Mr Marek, who was a couple of inches taller than Lionel, drove a regular sedan. Sports cars were tiny inside.
They drove up to Mr Marek's house, Sera feeling increasingly nervous and wondering what the hell Lionel was playing at. Victoria would be furious. Why was he fanning the flames?
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked when he moved the seat forward for her to get out. At least if she stayed in the car until the restaurant Victoria might make less of a scene there.
Lionel flashed her a smile. "It's a perfectly excellent idea."
Being inside Mr Marek's house brought everything flooding back. She realised it was several months since she had been there. The familiar smell of oils mingling with plants in the conservatory drifted through. She saw his easel from a distance and wondered what he was currently painting.
There was also a horrid cloying scent of some designer fragrance fighting with the aroma of art and coffee. Doubtless Victoria. That woman had infused this place like a horrible coiling serpent, wrapping herself around Mr Marek and his life and squeezing out Sera.
"Lionel, Lois, Sera." Was it her imagination or did he linger on her name? "Great to see you, we're just about ready. Anyone like a drink before we go?"
Lionel declined on their behalf. "The restaurant wouldn't take a booking later than eight and threatened me with all sorts of doom lest we arrive after then."
Victoria sailed into the room. She was wearing evening trousers and an emerald satin blouse with huge frilly puffed shoulders. On anyone else it would have looked absurd and fussy but as an ex-model, she carried it off perfectly. Her frosted hair seemed huger than ever.
Sera, wearing her only other evening dress that wasn't the one she had worn to the gallery, felt eclipsed.
Victoria narrowed her eyes. "I might have been forced to tolerate this piece at the gallery, Lionel, but I'm as sure as hell not suffering her in my own home."
Sera wanted to sink through the floor.
Mr Marek's expression was inscrutable. Lionel's was relaxed and amused. "Aren't you?"
"You know the deal. She leaves now or I phone her school first thing in the morning." Her narrowed eyes shot hatred at Sera's.
"Feel free to try," Lionel said.
Victoria spun back to him. "I beg your pardon?"
"Feel free to try. They already know about the painting from the newspapers and it has been no issue," he told her.
"I hardly imagine they'll be as delighted to discover what else has been going on." Malice twisted Victoria's face.
Sera was feeling sick with fear. She had dreaded this happening more than anything, why was Lionel provoking the woman?
But he remained unruffled just as Mr Marek remained impassive. "Exactly what has been going on?" Lionel asked.
"You know full well," Victoria snapped.
"All I know is that you've been living with Tarq since last November and as far as the rest of the world is aware, the two of you are together. You've shot yourself in the foot, my dear. What shred of evidence do you have that he's been seeing Sera or anyone else? Hundreds of witnesses can attest that you've clung to him like a limpet for months."
Her hands clenched into claws from fury, Victoria spat her words at him. "You know perfectly well what was going on between them."
"So far as I, the rest of the art world and the press are concerned, nothing more than a perfectly professional artist-model arrangement ever took place. Tarq even kept records of payments which his accountant would be happy to produce. If you try to make trouble you'll merely look like a woman scorned stirring up lies out of desperation." Lionel cast a glance at Mr Marek. "For scorned - if I may take the liberty of announcing it, Tarq? - is exactly what you are. I suggest you pack your bags."
"Paying that little whore who would have given it up for free, to you and half the artists in England I'll warrant!"
Mr Marek stepped forward. "That's enough." His calm tone masked deep anger. "It's over. Not that it ever restarted, as you well know. You can stay here tonight but then you're gone."
"Tarquin!" Victoria's tone was a mixture of shock, disbelief and pleading.
"I've tolerated you for Sera's sake but she's safe now. There's no point making a scene. It's time you went back to London."
"And leave you here with that scheming little hussy?" Victoria's voice was rising in fury.
The art teacher ignored the insinuation. "What I do is none of your business. Thinking you could blackmail your way into any long term position in my life was deranged, Victoria."
The blonde woman looked desperately from him to Lionel and back but saw no pity and no yielding. She at least knew when she was thwarted. Tilting her chin in a defiant manner, she announced: "You're deranged if you think I would join you for dinner tonight after this insult."
Lionel gave a brief laugh. "The restaurant is booked for four people. You were never invited in the first place. While we're gone you'll have time to gather your things and be ready for the taxi I'm ordering, courtesy of the Gallery as my farewell gift to you, to take you to the station first thing tomorrow."
Victoria stormed out.
There were a few moments of silence, broken by Lois. "Jesus," she murmured.
Sera was in absolute shock and turmoil. Confusion mixed with relief and hope and uncertainty. Did this mean that she and Mr Marek...? She could hardly ask that in front of the others. There were so many things she was burning to know. "How come you didn't tell me?" she asked Mr Marek.
"Lionel insisted on having the privilege of finally telling her where to go," Mr Marek - now Tarq again, she supposed - told her.
Lionel grinned. "I've been wanting to see that Gorgon off ever since she started getting her claws into my artists. But my business relationship with Maurice forced me to remain civil to her. Now he's washed his hands of her, I can finally tip her down the drain where she belongs."
The four of them headed off to the restaurant, taking the art teacher's car as it seated everyone more comfortably.
"What if she slashes all your stuff while you're out?" Lois asked him.
He shrugged. "Clothes are clothes. They can be replaced."
"I mean your paintings?"
"I've barely been able to paint while she's been there. I have a couple of canvases I'm working on in free periods at St Christopher's."
Sera wondered about the stormy seascape.
Tarq twisted around to look at her in the back seat. "It's in London. I took it down the same day you left." His eyes conveyed what he couldn't say in front of the others.
"London?" Lois asked, oblivious to the unspoken exchange between him and Sera.
"I have a flat there," he explained.
"Whereabouts?"
"Russell Square. Bloomsbury."
Over dinner, at the most expensive restaurant in town, they were still discussing Victoria. Sera was glad that Lionel had taken charge of the wine list as if the Burgundy he ordered cost as much as she feared, she would have struggled to drink it. The menu didn't even have prices on which was stressful in itself.
Sera had never socialised with seriously wealthy people before and hadn't even been aware of Tarq being so well off. From her vague knowledge of London she knew that Russell Square was an extremely upmarket address. When they'd visited Sera's sister once or twice it seemed that everyone lived miles from the centre, an hour out on the Northern line in shared houses where even the living rooms were converted into bedrooms.
To actually own a flat in central London was a whole different league of existence. But given paintings sold for six figures, perhaps it was no wonder. Still, it was hard to come to terms with.
Lois voiced her thoughts. "I can't get my head around all of this. I mean a quarter of a million quid for a painting? Not that it wasn't really nice, of course."
Tarq and Lionel exchanged a glance. "Sometimes the market and buyers can be unpredictable," Lionel said.
Sera worked her way through quail ballantine, filet mignon and a lemon soufflé. The men also had a cheese course but she was too full to eat any. Finally there was coffee and a plate of petits-fours. Lois ate most of them.
As they left Tarq slipped his arm across her back, guiding her down the steps. He walked her a few paces away from Lionel and Lois who were discussing a film.
He turned her around and gazed down at her. He cupped her face in his hands. "Come and stay with me tonight. Waiting to be with you has been killing me and I can't waste another night."
"But what about Victoria?" Her presence in the house would hardly be conducive to passion.
"I mean in London. We can drive up there tonight."
"But it's miles!"
He tilted her face up towards his and brushed her lips lightly with a kiss. "We'll be there by midnight. I need you in my bed with me, my darling, all mine."