Love & The Goddess (45 page)

While I prepared to leave Galway I didn’t see much of Ella since she was on the road a lot, acting as sales representative for her company. James, however, had taken to
calling most evenings after he finished work. One particular evening he seemed unusually pensive and subdued.

I said, “Hey, you know I’m not suddenly going to disappear. I’m leaving my furniture here until the end of December, so I’ll be back and forth. And you said you’d
visit regularly. Now that you’re single again you’ve no excuse. So no need for the long face.”

“I know that, Kate, and of course I’ll visit. That’s not the issue.”

“Well, then …?”

“Ella and I were wondering had you thought about attending Geoff’s exhibition?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

“And?”

“I can’t make up my mind. One minute I say ‘yes, I’ll go’ and the next I say ‘no’. I don’t need complications in my life. I’ve been hoping
for divine guidance, a sign, but it hasn’t come.”

“For God’s sake, what are you waiting for? Do you want Tinkerbell to tap your thick skull with her wand, or a hammer more like it? The sign came a fortnight ago when you spotted the
poster in a café. What were the chances of that happening? That’s what Carl Jung would call synchronicity.”

“Strange all right.” I pretended nonchalance. “Being in the right place at the right time sort of a thing, I suppose.”

James practically wrung his hands. “You have to go, Kate. Don’t you see, you travelled thousands of miles on a personal quest? And yet you’re prepared to leave this question
unanswered? Maybe he’s the one.”

“Hey, you warned me not to rush into a relationship after I left Trevor.”

“That was then and this is now.” James’s eyes were pleading. “Maybe you’ll just spend a few months dating. So what, if that’s all it is – it could be
good for you. It’s just that we all think he sounds like a nice guy who needs you to give him a chance.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll go. But I might still decide to chicken out at the last minute.”

As I drove through Dun Laoghaire, I was amazed to see my face staring back at me from posters in every shop window. The invite said seven, so I deliberately waited until after
seven thirty to arrive at the Holland Gallery, in the hope I might remain unnoticed in the crowd. As I approached the door I could hear excited chatter rise above Enya’s mystical music.
Expensive perfumes mingled with the smell of oil paints, as the aroma of canapés and champagne tickled my nostrils. A middle-aged man of small build, salt-and-pepper hair and a neat
moustache greeted me, dressed in a dinner suit. Judging by his demeanour, I assumed he must be the gallery manager.

“Ah, you’re the famous Hekate! No need for you to show your invite,” he chuckled, handing me a brochure with my picture on the cover. I sighed, accepting that there
wasn’t much hope of going unrecognised in this place since my image was plastered everywhere. Maybe I should have dyed my hair brown before coming?

I swept my eyes over the small crowd gathered in the outer room. Through an archway, I could see a large press of people thronging the main gallery where I presumed most of the paintings were
hanging. I noticed Myra at the edge of the inner room, speaking to two well-dressed men. In an attempt to look goddessy, she’d donned a cream Grecian-style toga with a burnished torc around
her neck and matching slave bracelet on her upper arm.

Thank heavens, there was no sign of Geoff. And Myra hadn’t spotted me. A sign to the Ladies pointed up a narrow stairway on my left; even though I was only in the door, I was already in
need of some respite.

Much to my relief there was nobody in the bathroom. I leaned against a sink and drew in a few deep, slow breaths. I hadn’t expected to feel this nervous. Eager to look at the brochure, I
flicked past the introduction to the paintings. I recognised Geoff’s daughter Shannon, who was depicted as Persephone. And Aphrodite also looked like her, but was painted as more mature with
chiselled cheekbones. I noticed Artemis’s resemblance to Myra and on closer inspection I spotted that she was also the Hindu Goddess, Tara. Suddenly I felt a twinge of envy and immediately
reprimanded myself for being ridiculous. Turning the page I studied Demeter, resplendent in golden robes amidst a fertile field of corn. I had to blink a few times before I realised she was me,
with brown hair, fuller cheeks and a considerably larger bosom. So dying my hair wouldn’t have worked after all, I thought, laughing out loud.

“It’s the first sign of madness, you know, laughing or talking to yourself.”

I jerked up my head – I’d been lost in a world of my own when the door opened. I blushed when I recognised the blonde teenager as Geoff’s daughter.

She cracked a warm smile. “I’m Shannon, by the way.” We simultaneously extended our hands for a handshake. Hers was firm and warm despite how fine boned she was.

“Hi Shannon, I’m Kate.”

“I know. I wondered what you’d be like. Do you like your picture?”

“It’s gorgeous. Very flattering.”

“Come downstairs. I know Dad’s looking forward to seeing you.” My face must have betrayed my shock at her willingness to share her father with me, because she leaned forward as
though sharing a secret. “To be honest, I hope you’ll save him from the black widow’s clutches!”

“Black widow?” I wondered was she referring to Myra.

“Never mind. She’s no competition as Dad’s already said he likes you. Come on down with me or you’ll miss the party. Everyone wants to meet you.” She placed her
hands on my shoulders and turned me towards the door. As teenagers go, she was certainly a tour de force – tall and blonde as a Valkyrie with an attitude I’d never before encountered in
all my years teaching her age group. As I descended the stairs, I caught sight of a young man with a magnificent dog standing near the door. With an immaculate white coat, shaded dove grey and
anthracite in spots, it gave off the air of nobility which Geoff had captured so well in the painting. I went over to them.

“Hi … I’m Kate. I love your dog.” I bent to stroke the animal. From the corner of my eye, I was relieved to see Shannon disappear without me into the inner room.

“I’m Liam.” The boy had slanted eyes in a flat face; he extended his hand for me to shake. “And this is Koda, the Indian name for wolf.”

“Ah! You’re Geoff’s son.”

“I paint too,” Liam stammered shyly. “Do you?”

“I used to. Haven’t done for a long time and certainly not as well as your dad does.” Suddenly I was conscious of somebody standing behind me. I could smell his musky scent and
my heart skipped a beat before I swung around to see Geoff’s blue eyes looking intently into mine. A smiling Shannon stood nearby, after having obviously directed her father my way.

“Kate. I see you’ve met my family before we’ve had a chance to talk. Will you take a short walk with me?”

“Okay, but will your guests not miss you?”

“Just fifteen minutes to talk outside,” he said to me, while simultaneously throwing a nod at Liam. “Back soon.” The strong father-son bond was immediately obvious in the
way they understood each other’s glances.

Outside the air was chilly and I hadn’t worn a coat over my favourite dress – an art deco patterned silk jersey number in swirly shades of teal, burnt orange and cream. Seeing me
shiver, Geoff removed his tan suede jacket and placed it on my shoulders. “No, really, I don’t need it.” I handed it back to him; I didn’t want him having any advantage over
me given our previous misunderstanding.

“I’m so glad you came, Kate. You’ve no idea how much it means to me.”

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m completely perplexed as to why you chose me to be one of your main subjects.” I sounded unintentionally abrasive, yet I needed to hear
his explanation.

“Kate, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that day we spent together. That’s what artists do. We convert our obsessions into art to try and make sense of
them.”

“But you told me you were heading back to Dublin to collect Liam that Saturday. Then I saw you with Myra on Sunday. What was I to think?”

“I know. That’s why I sent you emails trying to explain but they all bounced back. And I tried calling you, to no avail. You’ve no idea what I’ve been through.” He
rubbed the back of his neck in an agitated manner. I resisted a strong urge to console him by wrapping my arms around him. No molly-coddling a man this time around, I reminded myself. The mothering
thing doesn’t work long term.

“Well, if you had been where you told me you’d be, the misunderstanding wouldn’t have happened in the first place. And I found it very odd that you didn’t tell me you
were in Galway when I rang on Sunday morning. Surely, I thought, if he’s interested in me he’d have asked to meet me when I told him I was confused?”

“It all happened unexpectedly,” he said. “My ex rang on Saturday morning to tell me she was taking Liam to see her parents in Drogheda, so there was no need for me to collect
him. Then I got a text from Myra telling me she wanted to give me her late husband Joe’s unused canvases, so I thought it was as good a time as ever to call and collect them since I was in
Galway.” He stopped to turn and face me. I also halted, expecting him to light a cigarette, but he didn’t. “Myra was supposed to be on her way to the Oyster festival –
she’s been a committee member for the past two years. But when I called to her house, I found her in a state of shock, crying her eyes out. She’s not normally like that, but she’d
never gotten on with her husband’s family and her mother-in-law had just been on the phone and said something nasty to her about not insisting Joe give up cigarettes after his diagnosis of
lung cancer. Myra was inconsolable. He’s only dead four months so it’s still raw for her.” Geoff glanced at me. “I’ve given the cigarettes up by the way.” He
waited, looking at me for a reaction before returning to the subject of his late friend. “Joe and I go way back as childhood friends, so I told her I’d stick around and go with her to
the festival that day and the next.”

“And there’s nothing between you and her?” I asked. “I mean you’ve painted her quite a bit.” I realised the ironic nature of my question given that he had
painted me and put me on the cover of his brochure.

“Kate, I only know so many pretty women who carry themselves well. Myra happens to be one of them. I’ve advertised for sitters in the past, but the women who turn up are more suited
to page three than art.” He was smiling now and we both laughed. “As well as that, Myra is brilliant at public relations. She knows everyone in the art world and she kindly agreed to
help me with this exhibition. But as for fancying her? No. She’s not my type. Too poised and detached for me.”

“Well, she seemed very possessive of you the day we met in the gallery and you looked very close to her that Sunday. And Shannon suggested something to me about her having you in her
clutches.”

His face flushed crimson and he stopped dead in his tracks. “You met Shannon for just a few minutes and she said all that? Well, why am I surprised? She can be just like her mother.”
He spat the words. “Sees and hears the grass growing and thinks she knows what’s best for everyone. God, I’m sorry she said that Kate. I’ll kill her.”

“Please, Geoff, just tell me the truth. There is something going on between you and Myra, isn’t there?”

“It was only a snog. I told you the truth about why I went to see her. Then you rang on Sunday morning to say you were confused after meeting your ex and I felt let down. It’s not
just women who get hurt when it comes to matters of the heart, Kate.” His eyes were teary as he gave me a pleading look. I never knew what that word “snog” meant. Was it a kiss or
was it much more?

“So the black widow welcomed you into her bed, no doubt?” I threw the bait out to see what he’d say.

“More like she tried to climb into mine – but that was after you rang, and it was over before it started with her.” He added: “Her husband was my best friend.”

I felt a flush of anger sweep over me to think how quickly he’d run to her after engaging with me on such a deep emotional level. “Oh my God. I knew it when I saw the two of you
together.” I started walking fast with the intention of crossing the street in the direction of the car park, but the traffic whizzed by without a break.