Bayswater

“Well why is it called a cartoon then? I don’t understand – it’s a drawing.”

I stepped closer to get a better view, and then I touched it, just because I could and because you weren’t allowed to in galleries.

T. looked over his shoulder, then went closer to watch me. After I took my finger away, he whistled softly;

“No alarm then….”

“Oh T. don’t be ridiculous – you can’t nick a Leonardo Da Vinci – not really – what the fuck would you do with it?”

He looked hurt.

“That’s not the point is it. Jesus! – Just imagine nicking something as valuable as that…….”

His voice trailed off, then he sighed. I knew how he was feeling. It was thrilling to be in the house of a scandalous politician who’d done something extremely immoral, as well as making himself look ridiculous, and even more exciting to be within nicking distance of an old master, even if it was only a cartoon. There were no alarms that we could see, and no one in the room with us either. It was incredibly tempting. After all, when were we ever going to get another chance like this again?

Then I came to my senses.

“We can’t. You know we can’t.”

It was all very frustrating; so near and yet so far. I ran my finger along the frame longingly, then almost knocked the thing off the wall as the door opened, and we both nearly jumped out of our skins.

It was only Joel, and he looked flustered;

“For fuck’s sake do you realise how long you’ve been? Five minutes you said. I think it’s more like half an hour now. She’s beginning to get worried – there’s only so long I can talk to her you know – it’s not as if we have that much in common.”

He looked at the painting, and my hand on it, and then at our scared faces.

“You were never going to….. you weren’t – tell me you weren’t – you said you just wanted to touch it, that’s why…..”

Then he also came closer, staring, as if in a trance,

“Amazing what it must be worth isn’t it?” And he reached out his hand too.

I was standing right next to him, and as I looked at his face he suddenly seemed to go from excited to very sad. I put my hand on his arm,

“Joe what is it?”

He shook his head, as if shaking his thoughts away;

“Nothing. It was the sale today.”

I was puzzled for a minute, then I remembered – David was Joel’s stepdad, and his film company had recently gone bust. All the things the company had owned had been sold today, to raise money to pay off the creditors. We’d all been jokingly asked if we wanted one of the lime green Habitat sofas, or a piece of art from the walls. No one spoke for a minute, and then T. said,

“Let’s go shall we?”

We trooped out, one after the other, to get a last drink, borrow the phone to call our taxi, and say our goodbyes. As the cab pulled out of the dusty little square in Bayswater, I settled back into the comfortable squashy seat.

“Where next?”

Joel looked at T,

“North Star?”

T thought about it;

“Ok – a couple of drinks. Then we need to finish what we were doing, and take some down to the Vale of Health – Sammy and Will should be good for a tenner”

It always made me laugh when we went there – Sammy had her own flat made from the basement of her dad’s house and it was just about the most squalid place I’d ever been. She was very nice, but not terribly good at looking after herself.

Joel opened the sliding window to tell the driver where to go, then he sat back down and turned to us;

“After the North Star let’s stop at Pam’s on the way home – she said she’d do our charts for free, remember?”

I didn’t much like Pam – she was quite old – pushing thirty at least, wore far too much eyeliner, and her dingy little flat was full of Indian wall hangings and the overpowering smell of joss sticks. She also stared too hard at Joel and T. which at her age was ridiculous. All the same – I thought it would be quite interesting to find out my fortune, so I began to look forward to it.