Page 8 of Run To You
“I asked if you were still there,” Gran replies.
Huffing, I shake my head. “Gran, stop titting about. Repeat the bit about the gallery show.”
“Oh, that,” she says. “Yeah, you have a gallery show in London.”
It’s still not computing. “I need more information. What…how?”
Gran tuts. “You’re just like your granddad when surprised. A proper numpty.”
Well, that’s nice to know, I suppose. Wouldn’t want to be the only numpty in the family.
“Gran!”
“Alright, keep your knickers on. Remember the commission you did for that rather striking lady, the blonde one, tall. Sort of looked like…never mind. You remember?”
How could I forget? Yes, she was twenty years older than Sloane, but her features were eerily similar. It took all my strength not to cry every time we video called.
“Mrs Villeneuve,” I mutter.
“That’s the one. Well, she was so happy with your work she talked to her gallery owner friend, and Bob’s your uncle! He took one look at her painting and then your portfolio and booked you in. He wants to showcase some of your older work and a couple of new pieces that he’s happy for you to choose.”
“Fuuuuck!”
“That’s what I said.” Gran laughs. “The show is in five months, so that gives you time to get the ferret done and then pick what you want to include with your older work.”
“Gran…this…I…”
“You’re going somewhere, Eden. I told you it would happen, didn’t I? I’ve known you were made for big things since you were a kiddy painting on my walls.”
“You let me!”
“Of course I did, I’m not complaining, honey. It was your mum who got all silly about it.”
“Yeah, because she knew I’d start decorating the house as soon as I got home.”
Gran cackles down the phone. “And you did! Bloody hilarious. I told your mum it was retribution for all the times she deafened me with her music growing up.”
I grin. “Glad I could help you out.”
“So, the show. Are you up for it?”
Gran knows me better than anyone, so she knows full well I’m up for it.
“Of course! Let me have a think. I want to make something new. Something unlike my other work.”
“That’s my girl. Right, I need to finish making your grandad his breakfast. I’ll transfer over the payment for the ferret as soon as it’s finished. Are you still on track with the deadline?”
“Yup, next week will be good.”
“Perfect. Say hello to your mum and dad for me. Better yet, tell them to pick up the bloody phone once in a while. Oh, and tell Jenna she better be visiting this summer, otherwise I’m writing her out of the will!”
Laughing, I agree to pass on the messages. When we’ve hung up, I have to remain seated for a minute or two. I can’t believe I’m going to have my own gallery show. I’ve always dreamed of it, and I would’ve settled for a local showing in town, but this? London! Wow!
In the living room, Bella is spread out on the couch with her laptop and piles of snacks. She gets like this when she has an important job to finish with a tight deadline. I don’t have the foggiest what she does, except that it has to do with code. My brain stops functioning when she starts yapping on about it. Computers and I are casual acquaintances at best.
“I’m going over to my parents’. Want to come?” I ask.
Bella looks at me with a Jolly Rancher hanging out of her mouth. Her eyes look glassy, so I’m guessing she’s been hard at it for some time.
