Spiral (The Salzburg Saga Book One) (18 page)
A young woman answered on the second ring. “Good morning, the Art Room; Layla speaking.”
“Hello.” Be confident, Ria ordered herself, and sought to make her usual low voice strident. “Can I speak to Meg Fuller please?”
“Who can I say is calling?”
Ria drew a fortifying breath. “Ria Ofor.”
“Just a second.”
A moment later a different female voice spoke. “Ria Ofor?”
This was it. Throat tight with both fear and anxiety, Ria swallowed and answered. “Yes.”
“This is Meg Fuller. I recognize your name, Ria.” The agent’s warm and enthusiastic voice eased Ria’s nerves a little. “I’ve seen several of your pieces on the Platform website but have never been able to find contact details for you. Are you calling for possible representation?”
“Yes I—” Ria had to blink back the image of the bank letter as it threatened to shadow her vision. “Yes.” She cleared her throat and aimed to speak more firmly in an effort to exude confidence. “I’ve been working on a new piece for several weeks. I think it may be of commercial interest.”
“I see. You have an up-to-date portfolio?”
“I do yes.”
“Good. Why don’t you come and meet me tomorrow afternoon? We’re in Covent Garden.”
Alarm speared through Ria. “M-meet? You mean…face-to-face?”
“That’s right.”
Ria’s hand grew clammy on the phone. “Can we…can we perhaps negotiate something over the phone…I mean instead of meeting? Maybe…maybe I can email you photos of some of my pieces?” Please say yes.
“I’m afraid not. I always meet any new potential client face-to-face.”
Ria squeezed her eyes shut briefly. How could she reveal her reasons for not wanting to meet face-to-face? She began to lift her hand to her face, but caught herself mid-way, clenching her hands into fists.
Over eleven thousand pounds needed to be paid. Now. She had to do what was necessary. She hoped that, for just once, the chips might fall in her favor. “Thank you, Meg; what time?”
Covent Garden was the heart of London’s tourist district. Its cobbled streets attested to its age, and its bustling market, lively street performers, and boutique designer shops drew both tourists and Londoners alike. It had been years since she had been here, Ria mused as she exited the tube station. A row of rickshaws lined the pavement just outside. Some riders bargained with enchanted tourists over hire rates, while others sat back to take a rest between rides. Taking a right outside of the station Ria headed toward the main square. This place still possesses so much energy and vibrancy, she admitted. She wouldn’t admit she had missed it.
“My balloon!” a young boy suddenly squealed. A royal blue balloon flew over Ria’s head. “Mum, catch it quick.”
Startled into glancing up, Ria saw the bright blue balloon in question. She jumped up, catching its long, red string in her grasp, and held it out to the little boy.
“Thank the kind young lady, Jimmy,” his mother prompted.
Brushing his ginger fringe aside, Jimmy stared up at Ria, his large brown eyes wide. “What are those things on your face?” he asked instead.
Ria froze.
“Jimmy!” Grasping his free arm, Jimmy’s mother sent Ria a beseeching look of apology as she took the balloon from her. “Come on, Jimmy.”
Ria stood rooted in place, her body as immobile as one of her own sculptures. Only when a passer-by accidently bumped into her did she realize she had been standing in the same spot for some time. Jimmy and his mother had long gone.
Heart pounding she ran the back of her hand down her right cheek, over the rough texture of unyielding second degree burn scars. Letting her hand drop, she forced her fingers to relax. All thoughts of her impending meeting with Meg wiped clear from her mind, she spun on her heel and headed back toward the tube station, thinking only of home.
Meg Fuller ran impatient fingers through shoulder-length black hair. She rose from her desk and walked out into the main reception area of the Art Room, her emerald eyes narrowing.
At the reception desk her intern, Layla Banes, glanced up. “Still nothing?”
“Not a dicky bird, and I’ve already left two messages.” Annoyed, Meg grimaced. “I’ll try her one more time.” Then she would have to cut her losses. Ria Ofor looked to be a special talent; Meg had seen that for herself while browsing the Platform website several months ago. But she liked artists who knew the importance of communication.
“I’d better head off or I’ll be late for the dentist.” Layla grimaced. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, she said, eyes smiling. See you in a couple of days.” Returning to her office, Meg picked up the phone and dialed Ria’s number for the third time. Six rings came and went before Ria answered.
“Hello?”
“Ria, this is Meg Fuller from the Art Room.”
On the other end of the phone Meg heard Ria’s shocked gasp. “Meg…hi.”
Meg waited a beat. Well, don’t rush to apologize for standing me up will you? she thought with annoyance. “We were scheduled to meet today at twelve thirty, remember?”
A sniffle came through the line. “Oh goodness! I-I’m so sorry for—I couldn’t make it.”
Meg’s brows drew together. Ria sounded like she had been crying. “Are you okay?”
Another sniffle. “Yes I—yes of course. I’m fine.”
Sure you are, Meg thought with concern, and hesitated before asking, “Are you still interested in meeting?”
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