Hearts and Diamonds (13 page)

‘I thought you would have seen me in the papers. I made them all,’ he said, with a hint of pride.

‘This isn’t the man I saw in the papers. I must admit, I was bracing myself for a tough sell. But . . .’

Jenna turned to Jason. ‘You see what I mean? A little styling really does work wonders.’ She spoke to Tabitha. ‘We’ve been to see Alfonso.’

‘Ah. Your miracle man. Of course.’

‘Excuse me,’ Jason cut in. ‘I did all the paintings before I got the suit.’

‘Of course you did,’ soothed Tabitha. ‘And it’s those we’re here to talk about, not your lovely clothes. They really
are
lovely, though. Customers will be clamouring to meet you, Mr Watson.’

‘Do you think so? So we’re going to do a show then?’

‘Oh, I think so.’

‘When we last spoke, you mentioned that you were booked up here until the autumn,’ Jenna reminded her.

‘Oh, yes, I’m booked up
here
. But who says we have to do the show here?’

Jenna sat forward.

‘You have another venue in mind?’

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, darling, but you have a glorious great mansion house in the country, don’t you? Why not have an exhibition there?’

‘In
Bledburn
?’

She looked wildly at Jason, who laughed.

‘I’ve done exhibitions in Bledburn before,’ he said. ‘Down the garages by the flats mainly. With spray paints. Dead classy, it were.’

‘But you mean we should show his work at Harville Hall,’ Jenna said. ‘Would the London art world be interested? Shouldn’t we keep things here in London?’

‘I don’t see why. Imagine how fascinated people would be to visit the home of the Starmaker herself. I think it would double our clientele at a stroke. At least.’

‘Oh, Tabitha, I think it’s a brilliant idea but I’m not sure . . .’

Jenna’s gaze sought Jason’s again.

‘We like our privacy,’ she said, as if pleading with him to back her up.

‘It’s just for one night,’ he said unhelpfully.

‘But the place is a wreck. We’re in the throes of renovation and, so far, only the kitchen and half a bedroom are anywhere close to presentable.’

‘How romantic,’ said Tabitha, bulldozing through Jenna’s objections. ‘A half-ruined mansion. Absolutely perfect for an art installation.’

‘And there’s my frieze in the attic,’ Jason piped up. ‘That can’t be shown anywhere else anyway.’

‘A frieze in the attic!’ Tabitha’s eyes lit up over the rim of her tumbler. ‘How wonderful. You must let me come up and see it for myself.’

‘Of course, you’re welcome to visit,’ said Jenna, feeling more flappable than she would like. ‘And then you’ll see the state of the place. Honestly, Tab, apart from the kitchen, it needs rewiring, for a start.’

‘Candlelight,’ said Tabitha dramatically.

‘And
damp
,’ said Jenna. ‘Not good for the canvases, I’d imagine.’

‘Oh. No.’ Tabitha’s onslaught was temporarily halted. ‘That’s not good. But you’re getting it sorted out, I should imagine?’

‘Well, yes. Got people coming in next week. All the same . . .’

‘Well, there you go then. Honestly, the décor doesn’t matter a bit. The shabbier the better, in fact. It’s the pictures we want people to be looking at. The pictures . . . and you.’

‘I’m not for sale,’ said Jenna with a laugh.

‘No, but you’re my major selling point. An evening with Jenna Diamond.’

‘Myatt.’

‘Jenna Myatt Diamond. In her gracious new home.’

Jason huffed. ‘With a pissy little art show on the side?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Watson,’ said Tabitha, sounding quite earnest. ‘You are what will bring them back. But Jenna is what will bring them
in
. I’m afraid we all need to use what resources we have in a crowded marketplace. And Jenna is an absolutely prime resource.’

‘Everyone’s for sale,’ snarked Jason.

‘Yes, Mr Watson,’ said Tabitha primly. ‘Indirectly, perhaps, but there it is.’

‘Call me Jason, for God’s sake. The only people who ever called me Mr Watson were sarcastic teachers at school.’

Tabitha smiled at him, warmly this time.

‘You’re an extraordinary artist,’ she told him.

‘Thanks.’

‘I’m very excited at the prospect of exhibiting you. I think this will be an event, perhaps an historic event. I want to make sure it’s everything it can possibly be. For your sake, Jason, and for Jenna’s. And, yes, for mine.’

‘I really think,’ Jenna said after a pause, ‘we’d be better off renting somewhere here in London. Somewhere offbeat and a bit different, sure. But not my home.’

Tabitha sighed. ‘Well, I can’t force you to agree, of course. Whatever you’ll do, there’ll be media interest. But you’ll create a real sensation if you’d only go along with me. I thought we could always rely on you for that, Jenna. You always played the press so well, so intuitively.’

‘On a professional level, I do think you’re right. It’s the very thing I’d suggest, if I were you,’ said Jenna unhappily. ‘But . . . when it’s my life . . . it’s different . . .’

‘Ah,’ said Tabitha. ‘There’s the rub.’

‘What timescale are we looking at?’ Jason spoke up, and it was so unexpected that everyone just stared for a moment.

‘Oh. Well. I don’t know. That could be up to you, of course. Another advantage – you exhibit when
you’re
ready.’

‘I’m ready now,’ said Jason. ‘But the house isn’t. But I think it’s a good idea. If I’m going to put myself out there, I want to do it in Bledburn first. I want the big shots to see where I’m from, to drive through the estate on the way to the show. I’m up for it. Jen?’

Jenna was so taken aback by this that she found herself nodding like a dog in the back of a car window.

‘You really think so?’ she said.

‘Yeah. Why not?’

‘Well . . . What about our privacy?’

‘We aren’t inviting anyone to move in, are we?’

She pondered.

‘No. Well. Looks like I’m outvoted. Harville Hall it is.’

Tabitha called for champagne and the art show, and Jason’s launch into the art world, was enthusiasticallytoasted, especially by Jason, who seemed to have accepted that he would need to develop a taste for expensive fizz from now on.

‘So, August thirty-first,’ said Jenna, once they were out taking some air on the roof garden of Tabitha’s building. ‘That doesn’t give us long. We need to at least strip all the walls downstairs. Then there’s . . .’

‘Jen. We don’t need to do anything. We don’t want to live in an art gallery. The exhibition is about the art. It’s not about the fucking plastering.’

She turned from the little Japanese-style fountain she’d been admiring.

‘You’re very forceful today, aren’t you?’ she said, smiling. ‘Full of opinions suddenly.’

‘Yeah, well, maybe I’ve started to see that all this might work out,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’m starting to take myself seriously.’

Jenna came to join him at the wall, looking out over Mayfair.

‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘That’s really good. Because you should take yourself seriously. As long as you keep your sense of humour, though, because you’ll go mad without it in this business.’

‘I’m not going to change,’ he said. ‘Just because I’m wearing this poncey suit doesn’t mean I’m going to start talking like Lawrence Harville.’

‘Perish the thought.’

‘What’s that?’

He pointed down to the Shepherd Market area, at the little huddle of exclusive shops and restaurants that clustered around it.

‘Shepherd Market. Some good restaurants, if you fancy eating out later.’

‘No, I mean that shop. That one, all black and gold, next to the one with the little lollipop tree outside the door.’

‘Oh.’ Jenna squinted, then sucked in a breath. ‘My God. A sex shop! In Mayfair!’ She leant over the wall, looking harder. ‘I bet it’s a ferociously expensive one. None of your cheap plastic tat for the locals here.’

Jason nudged her hip with his.

‘Remember what I was saying about dressing you up? Tit for tat,’ he whispered.

‘You don’t mean . . .’

‘Why not? I’m curious. I want a nose round inside. Come on.’

They bade Tabitha farewell and made the short journey to Shepherd Market. The shop was called Le Cinq à Sept, which made Jenna think its clientele was probably very rich men shopping for their mistresses. It gave out an air of the heady and illicit from the very start.

The window wasn’t blacked out, nor was it filled with mannequins in flashy scarlet and black latex, but it was of smoked glass and the display was discreet and tasteful – mainly piles of pretty boxes and well-wrapped parcels with the odd silver-backed hairbrush or marabou slipper here and there, to give the air of an artfully disarranged boudoir.

‘Is anyone watching us?’ asked Jenna nervously, looking about her, but the area was quiet enough in this post-lunch hour, being off the main tourist drag.

‘Not a soul,’ said Jason. His face was a little flushed from the champagne and his eyes were glittering with excited purpose. ‘Come on. Let’s go in.’

He put a hand on Jenna’s shoulder and escorted her into the shop. A bell jingled in an old-fashioned way that somehow made Jenna feel she was walking into another world, and, in a way, it was.

Quiet classical music played into a room that could have been any fashionable boutique. It was cool after the hot London street, and soothing to the eye after the bleached pavements they had walked to get here.

A linen-suited woman at a counter near the back simply nodded and returned to the catalogue she was browsing.

‘This is nothing like that shop Mia used to work in,’ remarked Jason, looking around him. ‘That were wall-to-wall dildoes.’

‘Jason!’ Jenna flashed a look at the counter. The woman feigned not to have heard.

‘What? I’m in a sex shop. It’s OK to talk about the kind of stuff you’d buy from a sex shop, in a sex shop.’

‘It’s a . . . oh, forget it.’

Jenna had stepped towards one of the rails, fascinated by the sheer, gauzy flim-flammery that floated from the hangers.

‘This is just gorgeous,’ she whispered, fingering the peach and lilac silk underwear set that was first to hand. ‘You’d hardly know you were wearing it though.’

‘I don’t suppose you can try before you buy,’ said Jason regretfully.

The assistant coughed gently then, when Jenna looked over, said, ‘We do have a fitting room, and some samples you can try on in various sizes.’

‘Thank you,’ said Jenna, turning abruptly back to the rail.

‘Not tempted?’ Jason smirked, then coughed himself when he caught sight of a tiny little price tag attached to the bra strap with silk ribbon. ‘Fuck me,’ he whispered loudly. ‘How much?’

‘This is high end designer stuff,’ Jenna whispered back. ‘Look at the brand.’

The label of a well-known fashion house was sewn – exquisitely – into one of the shoulder straps.

‘Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them,’ said Jason.

‘And the quality – I mean, just feel it. Like gossamer.’

‘It’s nice, but . . .’

‘And I’ve got money,’ she said. ‘So . . .’

He turned to her and unleashed the full bright force of his teeth.

‘You want these, don’t you?’

Jenna had just seen an accessory that went with the set – a pair of beautiful, elegant, ribbon-laced cuffs. Perfect for aesthetically-pleasing bondage with a touch of luxury. The thought of Jason tying those ribbons together to keep her hands restrained while he did whatever he wanted to her . . .

‘I think I do,’ she said.

‘Don’t just go for the first thing you see,’ he chided. ‘There’s a shop full of this stuff. Take a good look around.’

‘But I’ve fallen in love with these already,’ she said. ‘I definitely want them. I’m going to try them on, but I might try some other things too.’

‘OK, well, how about you choose one set and I choose another?’

‘Deal.’

They browsed through more racks of the frilly and flirtatious before arriving at a section that seemed to enliven Jason’s interest. The lingerie in this area was black and sinful-looking with all kinds of bits missing or added on.

He picked a bra that was hardly worthy of the name off a hanger. It was made of black PVC, less shiny than latex but with a subtle kind of sparkle that added a touch of class. The cups soon made it clear that that was an illusion, though. They were barely there – quarter cups that would expose the nipples. There were straps above to create the frame of a full-cupped bra, with strips of gauzy lace travelling up either side of the nipples, but these would act not as skin-coverers but as borders to enhance the display. In short, it was one very rude garment and Jenna blushed just to look at it.

‘What do you think of this?’ he said, in a very low voice, since they were now quite near the assistant.

‘Doesn’t leave much to the imagination,’ she breathed.

‘Yeah, well, I use my imagination every day when I paint,’ he said. ‘I might want to give it a rest in the bedroom.’ He looked from the bra to Jenna’s chest. ‘Mind you, my imagination’s working pretty hard right now. Picturing you in this.’

The quiet depth of his voice, coupled with the implication of his words, sent a shot straight through her. How could he talk like this in public? Well, in front of a third party, anyway. It was designed to confuse and humiliate her. And to arouse her.

He fingered the matching knickers, brief enough from the front view, with a triangular PVC panel in the centre, bordered by an elasticated lace detail. The sides were of fine black mesh, but when Jason looked at the back, it was almost non-existent. The wearer’s bottom would be almost completely bare, save for a little gathered mesh frame around the cheeks.

‘Oh, yes, these would work,’ he said, with a snuffle of amusement. ‘They’d work very well.’

Jenna felt a dampness in her own, less exotic, knickers, and she squirmed to think of how this daring pair would feel on and around her skin.

‘Work for what?’ she whispered. ‘Not for sensible every day wear, that’s for sure.’

‘Yeah, this isn’t M&S, in case you hadn’t noticed. Sensible knickers aren’t what we’re after here.’

‘So are those your favourites? Are they going in the basket?’

‘They’re definitely on my list for trying on.’