Chapter 4

When I got her home, we kissed some more, and I told her that I would be in the Duke for my dinner on Tuesday. What I had planned with the decorating for the day was out of the window. I was going to put some things in the sidecar and take it to London to sell. That way, I might be able to live a lot better.

I had a dreamless sleep, but the saltiness of the pizza worked on my bladder, so making it a busy night. In the morning, I got myself ready and loaded the sidecar with the pieces that had been in the box room, as well as a few items I had saved from other jobs. I rode into the city and parked outside a gallery that I had sold to before. I had used one of the plastic crates I had bought and carried it inside.

“Good morning, Marcello. What have you bought us today?”

I put the box on the counter and pulled out each piece, unwrapping them as I went. He stayed quiet until the box now only contained the linen that I had used for wrapping.

“I know that you’re lucky, Marcello, but you’ve done yourself proud this visit. What we have is a Martin Brothers vase which I will give you two thousand five hundred for. Then there are the two Moorcroft vases, both early ones, which I’ll give you a thousand each. The rest are nice pieces of Poole, which are worth about six hundred the lot. I guess you can take away a bit over five thousand. A cheque all right?”

I agreed and he wrote the cheque. Before I left, I asked him if he knew anyone who sold abstracts.

“You have a few Picassos?”

“I will have enough of my own work to have a showing.”

“What are they like?”

I pulled my laptop out of my backpack and ran through the slide show.

“These are my pictures that are years of doodling on the computer. I need to paint them. What medium and size would you suggest?”

“Those designs need something with zing. Make them shiny and about twenty by forty or smaller. That’s a nice size for modern houses. Bring them in when you’re ready and I’ll put on the show for you. Let me know a couple of weeks before, and I’ll put up a poster and do a Facebook advert. I expect that they would sell for about fifteen hundred each, with my keeping two hundred and fifty. If they’re popular, we’ll add another thousand for the next batch.”

I packed the laptop away, shook hands with him and went to the nearest branch of my bank to deposit my cheque. I was outside, and about to put my helmet on again, when my phone rang.

“Hello, Marcello here.”

“Marcie, it’s your mum. I forgot to tell you when you we in the shop last night. The specialist sent a letter asking for you to make a follow-up appointment to see him. He wants to know if your disease is any worse.”

“It’s not a disease, Mum. It’s him using mumbo-jumbo to pull the wool over your eyes and charge the NHS a fortune for telling me nothing that makes sense.”

“Don’t be like that! Anyway, I posted it on to your flat.”

“I’m not there any longer. I’ve moved to a house in Twyford, I’m renovating it for the estate agent. It might still be in the box or at the nearest post office. I’ll give you the new address. Do you have a pencil?”

When she was back with pencil and paper and wrote the address as I gave it to her. I bought myself a lunch in the city and on my way back to Twyford I stopped at the old flats and checked the post box, where there were a couple of envelopes. I went to the Post Office to register a change of address. I usually only got begging letters so any I had missed wouldn’t be a worry.

Back in the house I put the letters on the kitchen sink and started to bring that room back to life. I took up the drop sheets and carried them up to the main bedroom, then carefully rehung the cupboard doors and inserted the drawers. It took a bit of muscle to get the fridge back in place. I had just finished running the vacuum around the room when the doorbell chimed. With remarkable timing, it was the kitchen suite we had bought. I unpacked it and put it together. It looked as if a designer had been in.

I took several pictures of the room and sent the agent the before and after set, with the message of “One down”. That’s when I picked up the letters to sit at the new table and read them. The one from the specialist was patronising medico-speak. There was an email address on the bottom, so I got my laptop open and sent him a reply. It was, I thought, too true for him to understand. I just said, “Condition improving, I now see dead people. Marcello.”

The other letter was from a commercial real estate firm in Reading. They had noted the changes to the pizza shop and the new direction of the sales. It seems that they had spoken to my father, and he had told them that the refit design was mine, as well as the idea of the square pizza. They wanted to know if I would go and see them with the hope that I could help them with some old shops that they were about to redevelop.

I rang them and arranged to see them on Friday afternoon. I then rang my father and thanked him for speaking to the agent with such a glowing recommendation. He said that it had been vindicated by my attitude when I came into the shop with Maisie. He wanted to know if I had got the letter from the specialist. I laughed.

“I emailed him that I was much better and I’m now seeing dead people.”

“Surely you joke, son.”

“Dad, you know I have no idea about what a joke is.”

He chuckled and said that he would tell my mother that the letter had been read. He wanted to know how long I had known Maisie and what she did for work. He had a laugh when I told him that she was my local barmaid.

After that, I put all the furniture packaging in the bin and made ready for my evening meal at the Duke. I came down from my second shower of the day to find Geraldine sitting at the table, looking at the agents’ letter that I had left out.

“Marcello, you look like you’re ready to turn a corner if you get to work with these people. No more humping furniture around.”

“That would be good. Where were you all day?”

“I’ve been with you, dear, every moment. You still have one ring in your coat pocket. If you don’t want me around, just leave it here. It was lovely to see the gallery. I used to go into galleries a lot when I was in London. It has changed a lot since I worked there, all those tall, misshapen buildings. That would not have been allowed when I was alive.”

“What did you think about his suggestion for the paintings?”

“He is just dividing his wall space and getting a number. The ones I did are all on twenty-four by thirty-six. If you do everything the same size, it will look like you’ve mass produced them. Jumble it up, do a bunch of nine by fives to sell to those on a budget. Do something large if the mood takes you. I did like his idea of making them shiny, though. You can use varnish as a topcoat. There may be a glossy clear on the market now, seeing that so many other things have changed.”

When I left, I didn’t know if she was with me, but it didn’t matter. She was supportive and had a world of knowledge that I had yet to learn. At the Duke, Maisie greeted me with a smile and a touch on my hand as I paid for my drink. Albert was sitting in his usual spot, so I went over and offered to buy him a meal. I went and ordered his sausages and chips, and I had the mixed grill again. I sat down with my drink.

“So, Albert. They tell me that you’ve been sick.”

“Weren’t much, youngster. They wanted to take a bit of a bump I have on my neck. I’ve got the scarf on to hide the dressings, don’t want to frighten the natives. You look more alive than when I last spoke to you.”

“That’s because I am more alive, Albert. I’m doing up the house that Geraldine lived in and it’s an uplifting experience. It’s a really nice place and I wish I had the money to live in it after I’ve finished the redecorating.”

I pulled out my phone and showed him the before picture of the kitchen, somewhere that he may have seen.

“That’s how it used to be. It’s a nice size but dowdy in that picture.”

“That was how it looked then; this is how it is today.”

“Jeepers, youngster. That’s a good change. Do you do this professionally?”

“That is the very first room in a house that I’ve done. As I do the other rooms, I’ll show you the pictures as I finish them.”

“You have a future if your work stays that good.”

Maisie brought our meals over and gave me a peck on the cheek when she set them down.

“You look after my Marcello, Albert. He’s going to be a regular. Who knows, you may start eating properly if he’s buying.”

“If he’s buying, Maisie, I’ll start ordering the truffles.”

“No truffles here, just trifle if you’re up for dessert.”

We ate our meals, and I prodded Albert to tell me more about his life. We both had the trifle, and he bade me farewell as he left. I stayed until closing time and had a kissing session with Maisie as I walked her home. I told her about my day and showed her the picture of the finished kitchen. When I left her at her door, I walked back to the car park to get the bike and go home. Geraldine stayed quiet until we were back inside the house.

“You really are a good man, Marcie. You go out of your way to be nice. Albert said more to you, tonight, than he did in months while he did the garden.”

“That’s probably because he had a crush on you, Geraldine, and couldn’t show it as you were a married woman.”

She faded from view, and I didn’t hear any more out of her that day. Perhaps I had struck a nerve. The next day, I started on the main bedroom. This was easier because it was just plain walls. I covered the furnishings in the middle of the room, and just had enough space to get everywhere. I had found a small stepladder in the garden shed, so used that rather than a chair to do the ceiling and the upper walls. I did the first coat Wednesday, Taking the door off and putting it in the conservatory. The second coat went on Thursday, even on the ceiling, as someone must have smoked in bed. It was quicker to do, so I worked on the door, and then the door surrounds in gloss white.

On Friday morning, I removed the drop sheets and shifted the furniture back in place. I found enough double bed linen in the linen cupboard and made up the bed. Then I put the door back and vacuumed the room. I took the after pictures to send to the agent. I sent the before and afters and he rang me back a few minutes later.

“Marcello, you are doing a great job, the kitchen is great. What do you want to do next?”

“I thought I might work on the conservatory. That will need a decent stepladder to get up to the framework. It will be a finnicky job but worth it. I might work on the lounge area as well.”

“White gloss on those window frames.”

“That would be perfect. Get a big can because the outside of the windows will need doing after I’ve finished inside.”

“I’ll order the paint and the ladder today. They should be delivered on Monday.”

“Just get them to leave it outside if I’m out.”

“Will do. Have a good weekend, you deserve it.”

I showered and dressed for an interview. Somehow, it seemed more important than it first appeared. It turned out to be very important, as we had a discussion which had me showing them my before and after pictures from the house. They drove me to the site of the redevelopment. I knew the row of shops from my younger days. They already had a supermarket who would be taking half of the site, merging three shops into one and doing their own interior work. What I was brought here for was to look at the other three shops and offer my thoughts on the work.

I had the idea that they were talking to me because they wanted something different. I told them that I needed to know what businesses they were aiming at, seeing that the supermarket would cover most food items. That ruled out a successful butcher, baker, vegetable shop or liquor outlet. They told me to think fast food. Each shop would be on the same footprint, and they gave me a sketch of the footprint and two hundred in cash for just looking at it.

I told them that I would have something for them the following Friday, took a few pictures, and they took me back to my Yamaha. I told Maisie about it on Friday night, and she said that she would help out if she could. Albert wasn’t there so I sat and had fish and chips by myself, with a glass of white wine that Maisie told me went well with fish. She was right.

Saturday, I did something completely different. I uncovered the first picture and worked on the repairs with a very small brush, mixing the paints to get an exact match. It was slow and tedious, but I was happy when I had made all the repairs. When I stood back, the new paint stood out, but not by much. I went to the artist suppliers and asked about shiny clear finishes. There were a number of ways I could go but was recommended to use a modern version of the old-fashioned varnish. I bought a can and some throw-away brushes.

When I got back, I tried a small bit on an area I had not repaired, to see if there was any problems. I went off to the Duke for my usual evening meal, followed by walking Maisie home. I had never been so involved with a girl before. Seven days a week was almost like living together. When I mentioned that to her, she told me that it was a wonderful idea and that it would be nice when I’d finished enough rooms. I laughed and said that I needed to have enough money to either rent it or buy it.

“I’m sure that you’ll be all right by the time the six months are up. You’re only two weeks in and you’ve already got the two most important rooms completed. I have faith in you, darling Marcie. Just wait and see, I’ve got a good feeling about things.”

I went home with my mind in a whirl. Was I ready to settle down?

Sunday, I looked closely at where I had put the clear coat and it looked good enough, so I took the plunge and covered the whole painting. I took it off the easel and leaned it against the dresser, then went up to the bedroom and got another one. I worked on that one with the repairs and left it to dry. Leaning it somewhere else, I did the same with the third. I then sat with my sketchbook and worked on designs for the shops, before deciding that this was enough for the day.

“They look good, Marcie.”

“There you are, Geraldine. I was starting to think you’d gone off me.”

She giggled.

“I’ve just been giving you space. If I was at your side all the time you would think that what you were doing was because of me, and not because of your own actions. When is Maisie moving in?”

“You heard that, did you? I’ll have to finish the lounge and the scullery would need work so that we could do the laundry. There’s a near new washer and drier in there but it looks like the last paint job was in your lifetime.”

“The master bedroom looks nice. If you empty a couple of wardrobes, you could put them in there and the two of you could sleep there while you work on the other two bedrooms.”

“What about your things?”

“Let Maisie look through them to see if there’s anything she wants. I’m freed of the restraints and only need bits of jewellery around the house to go everywhere. Save the painting smock for yourself when you start doing your own things. Oh! Put a drop sheet under the easel before you do bigger works, I know, from experience, there will be spills.”

“I’ll do the inside of the conservatory before I do originals, that way the easel can stay in place. There’s a stepladder coming tomorrow.”

That evening, I had my meal, and, as it was a quiet night, the boss allowed Maisie to sit with me but was needed to stay in case a crowd came in. We talked about a timetable for her moving in. I made sure that we would look for a flat together if we had to move out. When I asked her if she didn’t have any qualms about living with me, she smiled and held up her hand.

“No qualms, Marcie. You already gave me a magic ring.”

“Geraldine told me that she doesn’t need the clothes anymore, so you can look through them. Then we can shift the wardrobes into the master. I’ve made up the double in there, but we’ll need more bed linen, what’s in the house is pretty old.”

“That’s all right. I’ll come over in the morning and we can go and pick some up. My little car needs a run to shake out the cobwebs.”

That night, as I tried to get to sleep, I thought about sleeping next to Maisie in the bigger bed. I must have been smiling all night, because, when I woke up, my face was stiff, along with another part of my anatomy.

I was up early and had varnished the two paintings before she arrived. I had taken the others down to the conservatory and moved the big bag and tubes to the now empty box room. I still wasn’t game to look at them.

I continued with my repair work and could hear Maisie talking to Geraldine in the bedroom as she sorted out the outfits. When she came down, she was wearing the summer dress in the picture. She looked beautiful, so I told her so and kissed her.

“There’s only a few things that are so dated I don’t look good in them. I’ll take them with me today and drop by a shop I know that does retro fashion. I’ve also kept some of the lingerie and put the rest in a case to take as well. It all has a market value, these days. Geraldine had a good eye, as well as a good bank balance, to have the things she had. She wants to know what you are doing about the pots and plates.”

“I’ve made room in the box room.”

“You mean the nursery.”

“Whatever. If we go back upstairs, I’ll lower them down, a few at a time, if you steady the crate from below. Then the can be stored until we decide what we’ll do later. Just give me a few minutes to finish these repairs. Why don’t you go and have a look in the back rooms. There may be things we need that we’ll have to buy.”

She went off and I heard her talking to Geraldine in the scullery as I finished the repairs. These would need the topcoat in the morning. I gave her a call and we went upstairs. I pulled the ladder out of the nursery, pushing the trap door open and extending the ladder into the attic. I climbed up and turned on the lamps. Her head popped up over the sill and she looked around. I opened the trunk and carefully put five plates in a crate, tying the rope so I had a central lift. She stood on the landing as I lowered the first batch.

One by one, I lowered five plates at a time, and she carried them into the nursery. Then I had my first look at the pots. They were magnificent. There was a note with them, in Pablos’ scrawl, telling the world that the pots were seconds due to the wrong colour and that they were a gift to Geraldine Ramie. It was in Spanish, but Geraldine was beside me and translated it. When I had lowered both pots, I looked in the trunk and pulled out some more notes. The only things left in the attic, other than the trunk, was the dummy and the sewing machine.

I tied the rope around the dummy and lowered it, telling Maisie that it would go into the bin. I followed that with the sewing machine. The sewing cabinet and trunk would have to stay. I asked Maisie if she could put the vacuum in the crate and I pulled it up. I dropped the cord down and she plugged it into the nearby outlet. When I had sucked up all the webs and dirt, the attic looked like something that was useable. I lowered the vacuum and then the two lamps on their tripods. With the handheld light, I made sure I hadn’t missed anything.

I heard Geraldine whisper goodbye to her cell, and we went down. I pulled the trapdoor, so it rested against the ladder, and it closed when I took the ladder away. Maisie gave me a kiss and told me I needed a shower before I did anything else. Before that, I took the dummy down and binned it, then did the same to the sewing machine, which Maisie had told me was a cheap one and worthless now. The ladder went down to the garden shed, and the contents of the vacuum went into the bin, which was getting full.

When I had showered and redressed, Maisie rounded up all my dirty clothes and took them to the scullery. Before long, I could hear the washing machine happily working. We nuked a meal each and sat in the kitchen to eat it. Maisie wanted to know about the tubes, so I went upstairs and brought them down. When we opened one, there were several pictures rolled up in it. I shook the contents out of one and opened them up on the table, which Maisie had wiped over. All of them were preliminary drawings for some of his early works, and a couple were sketches of Jacqueline, unmistakeable. All just had PP in one corner, but no full signature.

The next one was similar, but the third was drawings for Guernica, with most of the elements. I asked, out loud.

“What the hell do we do with these?”

“Whatever you want, Marcie. You freed me and these are your bounty. I suggest that you take them into London to a big gallery to get them authenticated, then you can auction them. If the prices have gone up, I’d say that there would be enough for a good part of this house. Those other notes are the provenance for the drawings.”

I fanned them out on the table, and she sorted them into three sets, one for each tube, which we put in. There was one left over which was for the picture in the bag. I took it up and slid it in, knowing that she was probably watching to see if I peeked. Back downstairs I asked.

“What about the finished painting?”

“You leave that until the day you get married. That will be my wedding gift. I can tell you that it has never been seen outside my family, and I expect that they’re all dead by now. You can hang it in the lounge when you’ve redecorated it.”

“Thank you, Geraldine, that’s most generous.”

“Deserved, Marcie and Maisie. You gave me second life and I have no need of any earthly goods. Just make sure the paperwork stays with the drawings. It will give you provenance for everything.”

Marianne Gregory © 2024