So, this was it: launch day and the Christmas Fair. It was still an hour to sunrise when Travis arrived at the gallery after a late night looking after Seb.
Travis had stayed until he was certain his brother had stopped being sick and made him drink some water and take some paracetamol, before he’d finally walked home to Squirrel Cabin.
At this early hour, he’d expected to be the only one around but the streets were already busy with traders unloading everything from bottles of gin and jars of chutneys to wooden toys and Christmas puddings. Some were already decorating their stalls with tinsel and fairy lights and he caught the scent of spices on the air from down the street where Araya and her parents were setting up an outdoor kitchen outside their shop.
Brian was presiding over it all, bundled up in a sheepskin coat and tweed cap, and ticking off items from a clipboard. Still feeling guilty for taking the piss at the breakfast meeting, Travis called a cheery good morning to him before unlocking the door on his empire.
He lingered by the light switch, half expecting to go flying across the space but this time when he flicked the lights, there was no drama – unless you counted the rush of excitement that came when he saw the gallery bedecked with his life’s work.
Was the moisture in his eyes down to disbelief or the chill of a winter morning?
Was all this really his?
He’d had exhibitions of his work in galleries before but never so many pictures on display in such a compact space – never, of course, in his own gallery.
‘You southern softy,’ he muttered, embarrassed at his indulgence in self-congratulations, before marching to the staff area to switch on the heating – couldn’t have his first customers freezing their bits off.
This was absolutely not the moment to rest on his laurels; today was just the start of establishing himself in Bannerdale, of building a customer base and a reputation. He had bills to pay, and more importantly staff. Bree would be along in a little while, ready to serve customers and make sure their orders for prints were processed correctly and sent off before Christmas. In the New Year, when the shop was quieter, she was going to learn to use the framing equipment so Travis could take on more courses and trips.
Bree would be looking after the card machine and taking payments. He smiled to himself; funny but he was more scared of that than of the fiendishly complex cameras and lenses he owned. He’d brought two to the shop as he knew they’d be a huge talking point with customers.
Freya had done him another good turn in putting his leaflets about the gallery and tours in every holiday home they looked after. That was advertising he’d have had to pay for. There would always be passing trade, holidaymakers who came into the gallery and booked a workshop on impulse, but his website was the vital place where people could find out about him and book direct.
He spent the next two hours tidying everything up, polishing frames and glass until it gleamed, and adding pricelists to the cards.
Travis popped his head around the door, delighted to see the sun shining over the fells. Generators hummed, and the streets were now buzzing with traders serving early-bird customers. The speakers were playing time-honoured festive favourites, reminding Travis of Seb; there had been no point broaching the subject of his brother’s music – or lack of it – the previous evening, and he was far too busy today.
‘Morning!’ The greeting was accompanied by a sharp rap on the door.
Travis opened the door to Jos Beresford. Square-jawed, taciturn and wearing a trapper hat, he looked like he could have stepped off the set of a Hollywood movie set in the Rockies.
‘Come in,’ Travis said, with a smile, determined to build bridges with his fellow traders.
‘Thanks.’ Jos stepped in and exhaled in surprise. ‘You made it, then? Some of us didn’t think you’d be ready in time,’ Jos said, peering around Travis into the rear of the gallery. ‘But I can see you proved us wrong.’
‘By the skin of my teeth,’ said Travis, maintaining the smile with more difficulty. ‘Do you want a quick tour?’
‘I shouldn’t. I’m meant to be supervising the whole event but I want to support a fellow trader, so I can spare a few minutes.’
I wasn’t begging you, thought Travis but bit back his sarcasm. ‘Come in, then. Mind the step.’
Jos stepped further into the gallery, making appreciative noises. ‘You’ve done a good job,’ he said. ‘Hope that doesn’t sound patronising?’
‘Not at all, mate. I welcome any feedback,’ Travis said.
‘Well, I have to say, you’ve transformed it. My office did the conveyancing on the place and I heard it was in a right state when the previous owner left.’
‘Your office?’ Travis exclaimed. ‘I used Caterfields – not Beresfords. Not deliberately,’ Travis added hastily.
Jos smirked. ‘We own Caterfields. Took them over a couple of years ago but let them keep their name because it’s well known in Bannerdale. We now have two practices here plus the Beresfords in Windermere and another practice we’re buying in Kendal.’
‘Wow. Sounds like you’re on your way to an empire.’
‘Hardly.’ Jos smiled. ‘But you have to start somewhere, don’t you?’
That was rich, Travis thought. Jos’s father had put him through law school and made him a partner straight out of university. Travis had had to start from scratch, with nothing and a father who’d told him he’d never be anything. Travis checked himself, aware that he had a chip on his shoulder and it wasn’t Jos’s fault that he’d been born into a well-to-do family. He mustn’t take it out on the guy.
‘The real hard work begins now, though, eh?’ Jos said, lingering in front of the snow hare canvas, as if mesmerised.
‘The real work?’ Travis echoed.
‘Building up a business. Sticking at it. Staying around long enough to make it work.’ Jos swung round. ‘You’ve achieved a lot – it can’t have been easy on your own.’
‘Well, I had some help …’
‘Ah. From Freya?’
‘Freya …’ Travis hadn’t even mentioned her. How did Jos know she’d been at the gallery two nights running?
‘Your brother told me she’d been working here late,’ Jos said smoothly. ‘I bumped into him in the pub the other evening.’
Seb … Travis let out an inner groan but could hardly blame his brother for stating plain facts to Jos. ‘Freya put me in touch with some of the local tradespeople. And er – she helped me clear up one evening.’
Jos smirked. ‘Yes, I saw you were thick as thieves at the meeting.’
‘Hardly!’
‘I guess you had a lot of catching up to do.’
‘Not much …’ Travis muttered.
Jos turned back to the mountain hare. ‘This is a remarkable picture. It feels as if its eyes are watching you everywhere you go.’ He swung round to Travis again. ‘Has Freya told you we were planning to get married?’