Chapter 21

Duke was subdued for the next couple of days. Barbara’s death had hit him harder than I thought it would, more than for just a passing acquaintance.

“She was more than that,” he said one morning over breakfast. “I can’t explain what it was about her. She was life itself, sometimes. A breath of fresh air whenever I saw her. No matter how bad I was feeling about my day, I always knew my appointment with her would be easy and relaxed. Never any tension. I don’t know how Cyril will manage. She was his world.”

I’d never imagined feeling that way about anyone, and I wasn’t saying that’s what I felt for Duke, but he’d quickly become a presence in my life I was reluctant to do without.

We arrived in France on Monday evening and drove to the hotel to spend the night.

As per Barbara’s request, we turned up to the funeral wearing our most colourful clothes. Everyone else had heeded her wishes too, not a black outfit in sight. There must have been a hundred people there.

The funeral itself was lovely, a selection of Barbara’s favourite songs was played, and when it was done, we made our way back to the villa to be greeted by brightly coloured flags and lively music. Barbara would have loved it.

Drink flowed freely, our friendly Asian bartender handing out elaborate-looking cocktails. I spotted Troy and Finn and a few others I recognised from the film set a few weeks earlier.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Cyril stood on the terrace, looking frailer than he’d been last time. “No tears today. Barbara would have hated it. Help yourselves to food and drink. Let’s celebrate my Babs’ life. To Barbara.”

We all raised our glasses. “To Barbara.”

“Well, he wasn’t joking when he said it’d be a party,” I said, looking around.

Music spilled from speakers hidden in the foliage, and laughter rang out.

It was the best funeral I’d ever been to.

“So, you guys are together now then.” Troy and Finn stood next to us as people danced the afternoon away.

“We are,” we said in unison.

“See, I told you,” Troy said to his husband. “I bet him a hundred euros you’d be together. He said no.”

“I’m sorry you lost your bet, Finn, but why would you have said that? We hardly spent any time together that you saw.” I frowned, unsure what they’d seen.

“Oh, sweetheart. Anyone could see what was happening between you. I think you were the only ones that didn’t.” Troy laughed, Finn joining in. “You make a lovely couple, though. Perhaps we could do a movie together? I’ll get our agent to call you.”

Duke looked over at me, waiting for me to say something. He knew what my answer would be.

“I’m done with the business, but thanks for the offer.”

I steered Duke away, not wishing to stay in their company a minute longer. They were saccharin sweet and possibly two-faced.

As night fell, the music slowed and mourners broke away into smaller groups, talking quietly. It was our cue to go.

We found Cyril with his family. He looked exhausted but stood when he saw us approach.

“Duke, Simon. Barbara would have loved that you came today. I’m so grateful you made the journey. Are you going home tomorrow?”

“I have work, unfortunately, and Simon has a gallery opening he needs to prepare for. We’ll send you an invitation. Maybe you could come?”

“It would be my pleasure. Just a pity…” He dabbed at his eyes, no doubt thinking about Barbara and how much she would have loved to come.

I touched his arm. “You take care, and we’ll see you soon.”

He hugged us both, and we said our goodbyes.

“Thank goodness that’s over,” Duke said as we got in the car. “I hate funerals. I don’t care how cheerful they are.”

“They’re never pleasant, although that was one of the better ones I’ve been to. Fancy a nightcap when we get to the hotel?”

“I just want to sleep. We have an early flight tomorrow. Do you mind?”

“Of course not. I’m tired too, and we’ve a lot to do when we get home. If we’re to open the gallery in a few weeks, I’m going to need your help.”

“Duke,” I yelled. Where the hell was he?

It was several weeks after the funeral, and we’d been working hard on getting the gallery ready for the grand opening. Choosing just the right image for the show was a nightmare, and I’d spent many sleepless nights picking one, only to discard it the following day.

Duke had been invaluable, not only by helping me select the photos, but he had also taken over the renovation of the old building I’d found.

It was in the perfect location, close to the Albert docks and the Tate Museum. Hopefully, it’d draw some customers in. I’d sent invitations to everyone I could think of and had placed an advert in a local art magazine. Fingers crossed it attracted some clientele.

“What do you need?” Duke walked over to me, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Have you changed your mind again?”

How did he know me so well after such a short amount of time?

“Which one is best?” I placed two photographs in front of him: one of a child on a scooter, the other of a woman riding a bike, her legs outstretched, hair flying behind her.

They were both different in their own way, but I couldn’t make my mind up.

“Hmm.” He stood with his arms folded, a finger to his lip, concentrating. “This one.”

He tapped his finger on the one of the child. “The composition is right. The lighting on this is a little dark. I’m not sure I like it.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” I threw my arms around him and squeezed. Stress was eating at me, making me doubt my decisions.

“What about the erotic section? Do you have everything for that?” he asked, shuffling the remaining photos on my desk.

I nodded. “That was the first section I sorted.”

With permission, I’d put together a collection of erotic art. Men, mainly, but there were a few women in the mix. Unsure how well it’d go down, I’d placed that selection of pictures upstairs. Duke had said it’d be the most popular genre, but we’d see.

The centre point of that exhibition was a photo I’d taken of Duke after an afternoon of lovemaking.

It’d been one of those occasions where we’d taken our time, where he’d once again made me feel loved and cherished. He’d been lying on the bed, a sheet barely covering him, looking completely satisfied and spent. The light through the window illuminated him and the room perfectly.

“Don’t move. Let me grab my camera,” I’d said, hopping off the bed.

I’d snapped several shots from different angles, telling him not to move. They’d turned out perfectly, and he’d agreed I could use them in the show on the understanding they weren’t for sale.

“No matter how much anyone offers me, I’m not selling it, but at least everyone will see how beautiful you are. How fucking perfect your body is and how I’m the luckiest person alive because you’re with me now.”

Once the gallery opening was done, I planned on hanging it in my bedroom as a constant reminder of him.

Two days until we opened, that was all we had. Dex was flying in from LA, and Cyril had agreed to come visit too. Robbie and Carlos were coming. I wasn’t sure about my parents.

But what if no one liked my pictures? This had been a dream of mine for so long. I couldn’t afford to fail.

“Hey.” Duke lifted my chin with his finger. “These are stunning. Every single one of these shots is amazing. You’ll sell every one, I guarantee. Now get cracking. One of us has to go pick up Dex from the airport, and it’s not going to be me.”

He went back upstairs, leaving me downstairs to continue the difficult decision of choosing more pictures.

Finally, the night arrived, and I was a bag of nerves. I’d picked out suits for me and Duke. Dex was there, Cyril had turned up and looked better than the last time we’d seen him.

Robbie was there with Carlos, and I wasn’t surprised to see them holding hands as they moved around the gallery viewing the pictures.

Mum and Dad hadn’t made an appearance, but after talking to Robbie, he’d admitted they were still uncomfortable with my relationship with Duke. Well, Dad was when he was lucid enough to remember.

I blew out a breath, watching as the assistant I’d hired chatted with the guests, putting SOLD stickers on most of the pictures.

“Fuck, Duke. They’re actually buying them.”

“I told you they were good. Why are you so surprised?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I thought I was no good.”

“You’re more than good. Now here comes Cyril. Are you ready to show him your surprise?”

The snappily dressed man approached, a beaming smile on his face.

“Simon, my boy, what a fantastic night this is. Barbara would have loved it. Not just the pictures, but seeing you two together. She mentioned to me it was her wish for you to get together. She was very astute, often seeing things others didn’t.”

Duke spoke, a little misty-eyed, “She would have loved it, you’re right. Especially the upstairs exhibition. Have you been up there?”

“I have. What a fantastic collection of photos. I’ve put a few stickers on some of them. I’ll be having them shipped back to France to hang in the villa.”

I scuffed the floor with my shoe, apprehension sinking in at what I was about to show him.

“I put this together for you. It kind of felt right after she passed. Duke and I agreed you should have it.”

I went over to the counter and pulled out an album. “This is for you.”

Duke squeezed my hand. We’d planned it together.

“I’m lost for words,” Cyril said as he leafed through the album of pictures: Barbara, the villa, the yacht we’d spent time on and a few pictures of Cyril and Barbara together. Candid shots. Shots where their love for each other leapt off the page and straight into your heart.

I rubbed my hands down my trousers, now moist with nerves.

“This is quite possibly the best gift I’ve ever been given. How can I ever thank you?”

“We thought, seeing how she was instrumental in getting us together, without even knowing, that we should pay tribute to the force of nature that was Barbara.”

Duke’s words were perfect and had the effect of bringing Cyril to tears.

He closed the book and clutched it to his chest. “I’ll cherish this until the day I die. Words are just not enough.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d known he’d love it, but there was always the thought it wouldn’t go down well.

The remainder of the evening was spent watching in awe and wonder as all but six of my photographs sold. There were so many enquiries about Duke’s picture despite the huge ‘not for sale’ sticker on it.

I’ll admit to being jealous at the attention he was getting, but he was who he was, and at the end of the day, he was mine.