Chapter 19

19

It is eight o'clock in the morning, and Becker is standing in the Great Hall in Fairburn House. It is barely light. He has turned on a spotlight to illuminate a single painting: a large canvas, four feet by three, painted in blacks and greys. Somewhere in this wash of darkness is an archway, a doorway, perhaps, and within it, a figure, a person with a face like a mask, disturbed only by the suggestion of movement around its mouth, the red and white of a smile.

In Becker's right hand, resting against his hip, is one of Vanessa's notebooks. He holds it up and turns to a page he bookmarked very early that morning.

I painted him. The man in the doorway, I painted his smile.

There is no mention of Black II , and yet Becker is sure it is the painting Vanessa is referring to: a man in a doorway, smiling. An innocuous enough description and yet the painting is anything but. Through deft application of paint and sparing use of colour, treading that fine line she walked between abstraction and representation, Vanessa has articulated her terror in a painting so vivid you can almost smell the fear.

It's not Julian, it's not Douglas. It's just a man who came to fix something, a man who frightened her. Some people might find this revelation disappointing, or anticlimactic, but Becker is hooked . With every line he reads, he gets to know her better, to understand what compelled her. Now he knows this: Vanessa painted what she loved, she painted her freedom, she painted the sea. She painted what she feared.

If he is right. He can't really see how he couldn't be right – she must be referring to Black II , surely? The only person who would be able to confirm that is Grace.

An hour or so later, he finds Sebastian sitting at the breakfast table in the back kitchen, a pot of coffee at his elbow, dripping raspberry jam on to whatever it is he is reading. He hears Becker approaching; he looks up and grins. Becker returns the smile, though it falls from his face as he realizes, watching Sebastian wipe a page with a napkin, that what he is reading is one of Vanessa's notebooks.

Sebastian catches his expression. ‘It's a tiny bit of confiture , Beck. Chill.'

The gall , Becker fumes, the casual disregard for what is precious. Chill? He could punch the entitled arsehole. ‘Where did you get that?'

Sebastian smiles at him – charming, infuriating. ‘I swiped it yesterday, when I went to fetch Hels. Don't look at me like that. It's my property.'

‘What is?' Becker snarls. ‘The book or Helena?'

Sebastian pushes his chair back, dusting crumbs from his lap. ‘That's beneath you,' he says mildly as he gets to his feet, and he is right, it is, and Becker hates himself for showing himself up, showing himself to be the lesser man again.

‘The book is not your property ,' Becker says, sticking his chin out, arms folded over his chest. ‘It belongs to the foundation.'

‘God, you're so possessive over her, aren't you, Beck?' Sebastian says, taking a step closer to him, so close they would be nose to nose, were Becker an inch taller. ‘Over Vanessa, I mean, not your wife.' Becker takes a step back and Sebastian thrusts the notebook towards him. ‘Have you read this one yet?' Becker glances at it, shakes his head. ‘Well, take a look at the back page. Go on, take a look – there's a list of the works that were due to be shown in the exhibition at my father's gallery.'

Becker takes the book, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it for further damage. Sebastian exhales loudly. Becker turns to the back page as instructed.

Glasgow Modern Sep 2002

Ceramics:

Sea series 1–9, Eris series 1–12, Flourish 1–3, Breathe 4, 7, 8, 9 he is cheerful, respectful. He gets up from the table and goes over to say hello, but Emmeline turns her back on him, steadying herself on the kitchen counter as the dogs circle her legs, whining excitedly. Emmeline takes off one of her wellington boots and then pauses, her stockinged foot dangling, knee bent like a horse favouring a hoof. ‘Mother?' Sebastian says. ‘Are you all right?'

‘I'm … fine,' she says crossly, but she's clearly not. Sebastian is at her side at once, holding her elbow. She pulls away. ‘Don't fuss , Sebastian, I'm fine.'

‘You're bleeding—'

‘Blasted bitch keeps getting under my feet,' Emmeline spits, ‘she's a liability.' She allows Sebastian to support her as she takes off the other boot. She has blood on her hands, and even from ten feet away Becker can see that she's trembling. He stands, slipping the notebook Sebastian was reading into his pocket, and slinks silently out of the room without a word.