Through the Glass (29 page)

“Jim, I’m honoured to have helped you, mate. I really hope this works. You two are just meant to be together.” Julian squeezed Jim’s shoulder.

Jim held out his hand. “Oh god, look Jules. I’m shaking. I’m so fucking nervous. Her flight will be boarding about now. She’ll be here in a day! What the fuck will I do if she slaps me and walks away for good?” His voice wavered as he almost pleaded with Julian to tell him it would all work out.

Julian turned to face his friend and placed a hand firmly on each shoulder. “Look, mate, you are taking a risk, admittedly. But
think
about it. Her dad says she has never stopped loving you. And who knows a woman better than her dad, eh?”

Jim pulled in a long, deep, steadying breath. “Aye…aye…she
has
to be happy. That’s all I want. And look at this place. She
has
to love this.” He gestured around the room at Felicity’s artwork as it hung there in all its beautiful splendour.

“Now, Jim. I want you to go back to the hotel. Take a long soak in the tub, chill out for a bit. Maybe even sleep because by the look of you, you haven’t done much of that over the past couple of months since this whole plan was borne. You know Jasper is safe with your neighbour, so you’ve only to concentrate on picking up your suit from the hotel reception and awaiting the arrival of your gorgeous, talented girl. And Jim?”

“Aye?” Jim focused on Julian’s words like his life depended on it. Because at this moment in time it really did.

“Trim your fucking beard, man! You look like the wild man of fucking Borneo!” Julian’s face lit up with humour.

Flight nine four two was scheduled to land at four tomorrow morning, UK time. Jim checked his watch: Five thirty. So it would be twelve thirty there.
Right…shower, food, beard, and bed. Not necessarily in that order…well…apart from bed.

The next morning, Jim awoke and checked his watch again: nine fifteen.
Great!
She should be on her way north by now.
He did a little happy dance on the way to his rather luxurious en-suite bathroom in the fancy hotel that Julian had insisted on. “Mate, you can’t have make-up sex in a dump.” He had informed Jim.
Quite right
. Felicity deserved better.

Staring at his reflection, he sniggered as Jules’ words came back to him. His beard had really gotten long and fuzzy. He would’ve looked at home as the fourth member of ZZ Top. And it was only fair seeing as Julian had shaved his off to look the part. It was the least Jim could do. He set about trimming it back into a goatee. Pleased with the result he switched on the shower, and when steam filled the room, he stepped in, allowing his muscles to relax as the water encased him in a cocoon of warmth.

He played over in his mind what he would say to Flick when she stepped through the doors of the exhibition. Would she like what he had called it?
Through the Glass
had been the obvious, choice considering the subject matter and the circumstances through which it came about. It reminded him of how she saw the world. She saw beauty in everything. She observed each vista she beheld as if it were already a framed masterpiece. He had always admired her ability to take a view through the glass on a train or car journey and turn into something transcendent. There was something poetic and fitting about the name.

Naming the artist Flick MacDuff was the next sticking point. The reasons for the choice were threefold. One, it wasn’t her name and never had been, and so if word had been somehow leaked, she would
hopefully
see is at a striking coincidence. Two, it had a certain ring to it…like it always had to Jim, and three…he
wanted
the name to be his future.
Their
future.

Once out of the shower, Jim couldn’t help but smile at his reflection. His eyes looked brighter already. He felt that familiar nervous energy course through his veins at the thought of seeing her and seeing her reaction to
her
exhibition. His heart flipped. The grin on the face of his reflection made him laugh.

He pointed at the mirror. “You, mate, are a complete fucking nutcase!” He shook his head and wrapped a towel around his waist. Drying his shaggy hair with another towel, he made his way through to the bedroom. He picked up his phone to check the time…again. He noticed that in the space of the twenty or so minutes he had been in the shower he’d had three missed calls all from Julian. He had forgotten he’d set it to silent the night before to ensure he got a good night’s sleep. Couldn’t see Flick with baggy, tired eyes, now could he? Sensing the urgency behind the need to ring him three times in quick succession, Jim’s heart sank.
Oh great, I bet the caterer has bloody let us down. I knew he sounded flaky
. He huffed and dialled Julian, preparing himself for the news.

Julian answered after only one ring. “Jim? Oh God, Jim. Have you seen? Oh God, please tell me it’s not true.” His words came over the line in a blurred rush. A cold shiver settled over Jim at the distress in his voice.

“Julian, slow down. What the fuck is wrong?” Jim’s heart rate speeded up. Images of vandals breaking into the gallery and trashing the exhibition flew through his mind like a terrible amateur movie.

The sound of Julian’s deep intake of breath vibrated through the phone, then a sniff followed by muffled noises. “Jim…please just turn on the news. Channel one.”

“Oh shit…that sounds ominous…okay. I’ll call you back.” Jim’s stomach rolled. He just knew that the gallery had burned down or been flooded or struck by lightning…
shit.
Reluctantly, he flicked the on button of the TV.

“…reports coming in claim that the pilot made a distress call stating that two engines had failed but unfortunately that contact was lost briefly after. Rescue teams were dispatched immediately but when the first of these arrived flight nine four two from New York had already broken up. It’s reported that…at this time there are no survivors…”

Jim sat, open mouthed, staring at the images floating across the screen in front of him as he felt the colour drain from his face. A shiver travelled the length of his spine. Then numbness set in.

Chapter 25

Jim sat in the drawing room of Felicity’s family home, holding Penelope’s hand. It was the day of the exhibition opening. He just couldn’t face it. Not with Flick gone. And anyway, Penelope needed him. Ironic really, since he was the last person she’d needed for the last fourteen years. He had come to her as soon as the news had sunk in. The older woman’s pallor was that of a corpse. Usually well made-up, Penelope sat, pale and shaking beside him as she sobbed. It was all too much to bear.

He couldn’t even be bothered to wipe his own tears away. He simply let them fall. The numbness had given way to anger, which had given way to a deep sadness and guilt.
If only I hadn’t set this whole thing up. If only I had just left her to her new life
. But what was the point of
if only
?

Felicity was gone.

No survivors. That was the news that neither he, nor Penelope, nor Felicity’s friends wanted to hear but it was what they got anyway. The beautiful, talented, passionate girl had gone, forever.

And forever was a hell of a long time.

“I’ll…I’ll make more tea.” Penelope stood in a zombie-like stupor and looked at her hands for a second as if she had forgotten her reason for standing. Confusion played on her features.

Jim stood and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Penny, let me…please.” He squeezed lightly to bring her back to Earth. She had clearly drifted off momentarily, maybe to a world where Flick still existed. As if his small act of kindness had pierced her heart, she let out an anguished cry and collapsed into him.

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Her tears soaked through the fabric of his shirt as he held onto her to stop her from falling.

“Hey…shhh. It’s okay. Don’t apologise. You’ve nothing to apologise for.” He stroked the distraught woman’s hair.

“No, you’re wrong. You are
wrong
, James.” She raised her voice angrily shouting through her tears. “I
caused
this. This is
my
fault.
All
of this. Edgar was right.” Her body convulsed and she clutched onto his shirt.

“No…no, Penny…no, you’re not to blame.
I
am. I should’ve just let her get on with her life. She didn’t need me confusing matters. She didn’t need her paintings on display and me trying to put some pathetic surprise together to win her back.”

The woman straightened up and looked directly into his eyes. “Jim, listen to me. If I had just let her be…let you
both
be…let her
really
love you…she would never have gone. She would still be here with us…with
you
.” She visibly shook as she spoke. Her voice had taken on a calm and collected tone.

She called me Jim.
He cupped her cheek. “Oh, Penny. What’s the use, eh? We can’t change things if we beat ourselves up. We have to forget blame. Please, can we do that?”

She placed her hand over his. “I don’t deserve your kindness, Jim.”

“Of course, you do. All you ever wanted was the best for Felicity. I can understand that. Because it’s all I ever wanted, too.”

Penelope lowered her gaze. “I told her you weren’t good enough for her.”

Jim tilted her chin to meet her eyes again. “Aye, and you were right.” He smiled. “She deserved so much more than me. But I loved her, Penny. I loved her with all my heart.”

“I know you did, Jim. I know. And I only wish that I could have accepted that your love was more important to her than you being a high flying, big shot executive. Love is what matters. Support, love, and happiness far outweigh the material things in life. You always felt that way. You were right, and I was wrong…especially about you, Jim. I know that now. But
now
is too late.” The tears began to fall again, and Penelope’s pained sobs made Jim’s heart ache.

“You’re wrong. It’s not too late. You and me…we need each other now. I want to show you Felicity’s true passion. I want you to come to Glasgow and see her work. Will you do that, Penny?” Jim squeezed her shoulders and she nodded.

~~~~~

The journey north had been a long, emotionally draining one. Jim had booked them two rooms at one of the best hotels in Glasgow. He was desperate to make this as easy on Penelope as possible. On arrival at the hotel, he called Julian about the exhibition opening.

“Oh, Jim, mate, it was astounding. The press loved the work. There was such a buzz in the gallery that I had to keep going out of the room, I was so emotional.” His voice cracked as he spoke. “She would have been so happy, Jim. I hope you know that.”

For a moment Jim couldn’t reply. The words became caught. Anguish and pain constricted his throat. Finally he was able to overcome it. “Thanks, Jules. Thanks for everything. I…I…wish she was here to see it.” Tears needled the backs of his eyes and his chest ached. Penelope had placed a hand on his arm, which had pushed him over the edge. “Sorry, mate, I’ve got to go.” He hung up and clung to her. She did her best to soothe him as the raw emotion erupted from his soul like a volcano. His tears spilled like molten lava, burning a trail down his unshaven face.

After what felt like an eternity of letting him cry, Penelope placed hands on either cheek and looked into his eyes. “James… Listen to me…
Jim
, look at me.” His bloodshot eyes met with hers. “I am
so
proud of you. To have loved my Felicity…
our
Felicity so much and to have done all this… I want you to know how proud that makes me. Do you hear me?” Her words were his undoing once again.

~~~~~

When they arrived at the gallery, Julian was outside the room in which
Through the Glass
was being shown. There with another round of press, answering their questions about the mystery artist, the identity of whom had been kept a secret until Jim and Penelope had seen the exhibition and were ready to face the emotional onslaught of being thrust into the public eye, which would no doubt happen given the circumstances.

Julian broke away from the group and came over to where they stood. He looked tired and drawn. He hugged both of them hard in turn. “Are you ready to go in? I’ve kept the room clear today until you’ve been.”

Jim looked at Penelope and held out his hand to her “Let’s go, eh?” He squeezed her hand in reassurance. She nodded, clearly nervous and glassy-eyed. They both took deep breaths as they followed Julian to the large wooden double doors. He pushed them open and stepped aside with a sad smile.

Jim’s breath caught in his throat at the sight that met him. The antique wood panelled walls were adorned with Felicity’s beautiful paintings. He’d known they were magnificent but didn’t expect them to look as spectacular in this setting as they did. His hand came to cover his mouth as he tried to stifle an anguished sob. He looked over to Penelope who stood open mouthed, tears tracing glistening lines down her make-up covered cheeks.

Slowly Jim walked over to the beginning of the exhibition. The painting was of the view from a coastal road they had driven along on a weekend away to Devon. The sea rolled toward the sand, and the white horses skipped along with it toward the shore. The tall grasses that edged the cliff-top almost looked to be swaying in an imaginary breeze as a pair of gulls hovered overhead.

Next was a mountainous scene painted from a memory of Jim and Flick’s honeymoon. The journey had been one they had made on one of the only overcast days. They had driven away from the coast toward the mountains, but the sun had broken through the clouds casting an ethereal glow to their surroundings. It was magical. She had captured the light perfectly. He was only truly seeing this now that it was hung in a gallery, like it should have been long ago.

Piece after piece, Jim and Penelope stared at the paintings created by the woman they both loved so dearly. Sadness that she could not see this most wonderful achievement hung in the air between them as they shared glances filled with pride but tinged with melancholy. Hours were spent simply gazing and absorbing what surrounded them.