The Art Dealer

 

THE ART DEALER 

This is ‘Bob Able.’

He is a man of modest means and has been a freelance artist for most of his life. The only time he was in paid employment when he used to work part time at the art college in Derby, passing his knowledge and skill on to his students.

Bob has a small cottage in the village of Naresborough, on the edge of town, which he shares with his wife, Mabel.

Every Christmas he loves nothing more than to play Santa in a grotto at a shopping centre in Derby. He has a lot of time for children, especially as he and Mabel were never blessed with any of their own.

Growing up he had an older sister, Olive, now in her eighties. She lives locally and comes round every Sunday for lunch.  After eating they like nothing more than to take a stroll down to the village pond to feed the ducks. 

Bob likes to keep fit and active and doesn’t relish the prospect of getting older. He is now 74 and the only real health issue. He has a touch of arthritis in his lower back. His diet is healthy, including having a bowl of porridge for breakfast every morning.

One sunny, spring morning Bob and Mabel were having breakfast in the kitchen when the postman arrived.

‘I’ll get them, Duck.’ Said Mabel, sorting through them as she walked back into the kitchen. ‘Oh Bob, there’s a letter here for you. It looks quite important.’

Bob put his toast down and opened it.

‘What’s the matter, love. You look quite puzzled.’

‘It’s from a man called Geoffrey Kane. He claims to be an art dealer from London. He has seen some of my pieces at the Chatsworth Gallrey and wants to meet me while he is in Derby to discuss the possibility of doing some business.’

‘Oh, that sounds exciting, Duck.’ replied his wife.

‘He wants to meet me for lunch at the Imperial Hotel on the 26^th, that’s the day after tomorrow.,’ said Bob with a worried look on his face.

‘I can’t possibly attend it’s too short notice.’ barked Bob.

‘Of course you can, I will press your best suit, and your beard could do with a trim, love,’ said Mabel.

‘My beard is my trademark, it’s a statement,’ snapped Bob.

Reluctantly, he agreed to meet the art dealer.

 

The 26^th came and Bob was up bright and early, suited and booted. He was even wearing a tie.

‘You look very smart, love,’ said Mabel.

‘I have booked a taxi it will be here in fifteen minutes.’

‘That’s a bit extravagant love, what’s wrong with the bus,’ said Bob.

‘Stop fretting, we will probably be able to afford taxis from now on.’ Mabel said.

‘Don’t run before we can walk,’ Bob murmured.

When the taxi drew up at the hotel, the fare was £13.80. ‘How much,’ said an exasperated Bob, already thinking about the price of the return journey.

Bob walked through the hotel’s main door, reached reception and spoke to the woman behind the counter.

‘I have come to meet a Mr. Geoffrey Kane,’ explained Bob.

‘It’s the gentleman sitting at that table, over there.’ Said the receptionist.

Bob walked across and introduced himself.

‘Good morning, I am Bob Able.’  And he stuck his hand out to shake Geoffrey’s.

‘it’s very nicer to meet you, I have heard a lot about you,’ said Geoffrey.

‘All good I hope,’ joked Bob.

He sat down and picked up the menu.

‘You can order what you want. It’s my treat,’ said Geoffrey,’ but I have taken the liberty of ordering the wine.’

‘Fine,’ said Bob.

‘I find your work very interesting and would like to take a look at your work in your studio. If I like what I see I will buy some of them from you. I will pay a very competitive price.’

They ordered from the menu and enjoyed a superb three course meal. Geoffrey turned to Bob ad asked when it would be convenient to visit.

Bob thought for a second and said ‘what about tomorrow, my wife Mabel will be at her WI meeting for most of the day so we can discuss business.

Geoffrey shook Bob’s hand and headed upstairs to his room.

After ten minutes a taxi arrived and Bob returned home. Mabel greeted him at the front door.

‘How did it go pet?’

‘Splendid,’ replied Bob, ‘he’s coming to see my studio tomorrow.’

The next morning a taxi drew up at 10.59 a.m. Goeffrey emerged and rang the doorbell.

‘Good morning, very punctual,’ said Bob in greeting.

‘I don’t like being late, I’ve lost a lot of time already.’ responded Geoffrey.

What did he mean by that thought Bob. He showed Geoffrey in and introduced him to his wife.

‘Geoffrey meet Mabel, my wife,’ and they shook hands.

‘Nice to meet you, Bob is very excited about you coming today,’ said Mabel.

‘It is an honour and a privilege to be here,’ Geoffrey replied.

‘I’m sorry I can’t stop, I have an all day meeting to go to,’ stated Mabel.

Bob opened the front door and gave her a kiss goodbye. Seconds later, the bell rang.

It was Mabel. ‘I’ve forgotten my walking stick,’ she said. Bob passed it to her and wished her farewell again.

‘She seems nice,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Oh, she is lovely, but I am a little worried, she’s been getting a little forgetful recently,’ replied Bob.

Bob poured two cups of coffee.

‘I can’t wait to see your work,’ said Geoffrey. They finished their coffee and Bob took Geoffrey into his studio and turned on the light.

Geoffrey started studying the paintings, there ran from landscapes, seascapes to still lives but then he came to a portrait. He stopped in his tracks.

‘Is there something wrong?’ Bob enquired.

‘No, no, nothing at all,’ stuttered Geoffrey.

The portrait was of an attractive young woman with flowing blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. For some strange reason, Bob began to feel uneasy. I would like to buy three of your paintings,’ Geoffrey said. ‘I want the country landscape, the still life of the vase of flowers and this portrait of the young woman. I will offer you £15,000.’

‘That’s great.’

‘I will transfer the money into your bank account, a little later but there is something else I need to speak to you about.’ They both sat down.

‘What’s on your mind?’ Bob asked.

‘Bob, cast your mind back to when you were at art school, in London, in your early twenties.’

‘Yes,’ said Bob.

‘Do you remember having a relationship with a fellow student called Betty, Betty Swallocks?’

Bob looked at Geoffrey puzzled. ‘I most certainly do. She was the love of my life at the time, my first real relationship.’

He paused.

‘But how do you know about it, something that happened all those years ago?’

‘Well, when you passed your exams and returned here to Derbyshire, she sent you a letter ending your relationship.’

Geoffry replied with a lump in his throat. ‘Yes, I remember it and how devastated I felt at the time. Geoffrey looked down at him. ‘After she ended it all she found out she was pregnant with your baby.’

Bob’s bottom lip dropped. ‘She thought about trying to get in touch with you, but her pride stopped her from doing so.’

Geoffrey paused. ‘She had her baby and it was a boy.’

Bob sat in silence with a glazed look on his face.

‘Well, after much tracking you down, I have finally found you and am here to tell you that my name is not Kane. It is Able and I am your son.’

Bob took a deep breath. ‘I can’t believe it. I have always wanted a son or a daughter, and I thought my days were well gone.’

‘You have a portrait of my mother on your wall that’s why I bought it,’ stated Geoffrey. Bob got up. ‘I thought you looked taken aback when you saw it. It was copied from a photograph which is still in my desk drawer. Mabel has seen it but she doesn’t know who it is.’

‘Are you going to tell her about me,’ asked Geoffrey.

‘I don’t think that would be a good idea, as she has always felt bad about the fact that she couldn’t give me children and that would highlight her regret.’ Bob paused.

‘Also, she hasn’t been herself of late and her memory has been getting worse over the past few months.’ Bob looked at Geoffrey. ‘How is your mother.’

‘Oh, she is fine. She has her off days like we all have, as we get older.’

Geoffrey turned to go. ‘Well Bob, I’d better be off then. I am heading back to London later today. Mum will be waiting to hear how I got on with you.’

‘Will you keep in touch with me?’ asked Bob.

‘I will. Tell Mabel that I have got friendly with you through the art world. I will visit you from time to time and you can also come and stay with me at my London apartment – Mabel too.’

With that they both embraced each other.

‘Goodbye Dad,’ said Geoffrey tears welling. ‘Goodbye son,’ said Bob. ‘I never thought I would be saying that in my lifetime.’

As Bob closed the door, he thought of the empty space in his studio where Betty’s portrait used to hang. With that he walked to his workplace and took her photograph from his desk. Time to start a new painting, a philosophical Bob said to himself.

 

Alan