“Molly, do you have a moment?” Evelyn stood in the doorway of the Victorian gallery and watched as Molly’s school group filed out past her. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your time with us today, everyone,” Evelyn said, her fixed smile flitting from one child’s head to another. The teacher, who had spent the entire class chatting to her colleague, gave a sheepish nod in response.
“Yes, of course,” Molly said. “How can I help?” Molly had the thirty seconds that crossing the room gave her to try to decide what Evelyn wanted to talk about. She desperately tried to remember what she had planned to say if Evelyn tackled her on the painting, when a young girl from the class came rushing up to her. “Hello again,” Molly said. “Jude, isn’t it?”
The girl nodded and blushed. “Here.” She thrust a small plain brown gift bag towards Molly.
“Oh.” Molly took the bag and peered in to find a small red stone in the shape of a heart. “Thank you. But I’m not sure—”
“I think you’re awesome.” It looked for all the world like the girl wanted to say so much more as she stood fixed in the tight grip of admiration. Before Molly could say anything the girl ran off.
“It seems you have an admirer.” Evelyn gave a wry smile.
“Poor thing. Crushes are so crushing aren’t they? I remember I had a crush on my art teacher. She could do no wrong in my eyes. Come to think of it, she’s probably the reason I became a curator.”
“Molly.” Evelyn’s voice bristled with impatience.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry. You wanted to ask me something.”
“Walk with me.” Without waiting, Evelyn left the room.
Every encounter Molly had with Evelyn seemed to be filled with mystery and, therefore, trepidation. Every conversation felt loaded with something other than the simple matter at hand.
Molly hurried after Evelyn, catching her up at reception.
“Fred, do you have the keys to the annex?” Evelyn nodded regally at an elderly couple who were sitting on the foyer’s bench. “I do hope you can join us at our lunchtime concert tomorrow,” Evelyn said, with a smile of almost pious agony. There was no doubt that Evelyn could turn it on.
Molly waved a quick goodbye to them as she fell into step with Evelyn.
“There has been a development with the Wright room. I wanted to update you.” Evelyn’s tone gave nothing away.
“A development?”
“Yes.” They had reached the annex, and Evelyn unlocked the entrance doors, flinging them back with effortless aplomb.
The room smelled strongly of paint and freshly cut wood. Wedgwood-blue walls offset with ivory picture rails lent the room an imperial grandeur. Slate-grey benches had been pushed temporarily aside to allow for the honey-coloured varnishing of newly laid hardwood floors. Wow.
Molly had been in the annex less than a week ago, and it had been an empty space of plaster walls and concrete floors. Did this mean that Evelyn had heard from Georgina? Was it full steam ahead? But then surely Evelyn would have said. No. If the room was ready, that was extra pressure on Georgina, wasn’t it? Of course. Evelyn was a woman on a mission—that much was clear.
“The room’s beautiful.” Molly went to the French doors and pressed her hand against the paper sheets taped to the glass, protecting the room from prying eyes. “May I ask, does this mean…”
Evelyn was distracted by an errant paint drip of blue on the white skirting, before her attention turned to other hazards. “I’ve ordered blinds in addition to the UV light protector film for the windows and doors. Thoughts please, on other measures.”
“Yes to blinds. Sensible for both security and environmental control.” Molly spun around. “Of course, we’ll need to monitor the space to get a sense of humidity, temperature, and so forth. With three outside walls and so much glazing, as the seasons change there’s a chance we may need a dehumidifier.”
“Good. Investigate and action, please. Anything else?”
“We’ll need to look at security and insurance. We will need plinths for the sculptures and possibly glass cabinets to keep the porcelain protected.”
“Good. I agree. There is nothing more hazardous than fine bone china in the vicinity of a visitor’s elbow. So where were we?”
“You were about to tell me of a development?”
“That’s right. I spoke with Georgina Wright this morning, and she updated me about the meeting you had together on Monday.”
Molly’s legs went instantly weak. She squeezed out, “Monday?”
“Really it’s like having a conversation with a parrot. Yes, Monday. Georgina said that she was pleased to have had the opportunity to talk with you, and that she was happy with our plans for a dedicated room for the foundation’s bequest. Your conversation had been so helpful it seems that it even inspired her own choice of name for the room.”
“That’s great.”
“No, Molly. It’s not great. The name the Wright room had a certain…clarity of vision. One collection, one purpose, one exclusive experience.”
Molly wasn’t about to ask what name change Georgina might have requested.
Evelyn shook her head. “The Wright Community Room and Gallery lacks…status. It makes me wonder what it was about your conversation that made Georgina come up with that alternative.”
No way. The Wright Community Room and Gallery. Georgina had listened to her? And more than that, she’d heard her. She’d felt it and sensed it and seen it in Georgina’s eyes and in her voice. And it seemed that she’d respected her ideas to such an extent that she’d acted on them. Wow.
Evelyn clearly gave up waiting for Molly’s explanation. “I have no concept now for the space. If it’s mixed purpose…” The phrase mixed purpose caused Evelyn to suck her cheeks in as if sucking on a lemon. “I do not appreciate surprises. Is that clear?” And with a glare that chilled Molly to the bone, Evelyn left.
Molly slumped to the floor.
“Why does Evelyn look like she’s chewing on a wasp?” Fran stood at the door of the annex with her hands on her hips, casting an unmistakably suspicious glance around the room. “So this is the Wright room then?”
“Well—”
“I managed to pin Evelyn down yesterday—sadly only metaphorically—and she was obliged to admit the necessity for a change of focus, as she put it, for the annex.”
“Fran—”
“I absolutely hate that I like the room.”
“It looks great, doesn’t it? I honestly think that the Wright Community Room and Gallery is going to be awesome.”
“What?”
“Yep. Name change.” Molly leaped to her feet, rushed to Fran, and gave her a hug.
“For goodness’ sake, let go of me. And tell me everything.” Fran gingerly took a seat on a newly painted bench. “Come sit.”
“Actually I have two awesome pieces of news.”
“Excellent. Start with the name change.”
“Okay. Well, obviously, you know about Monday’s meeting and that I spoke to Georgina about the need for the museum to do more for equality and diversity et cetera.”
“Yes, yes. Go on.”
“Well, this morning Georgina spoke to Evelyn and confirmed that she was happy with the idea of a Wright room. What’s more, she said that chatting with me had inspired her to come up with the revised name. She listened to me Fran. She really listened.”
“And I’m really impressed. What a classy thing to do—but then her father was like that. I am now very excited about your other news.”
“I know who painted Josephine’s portrait.”
“No—so you found this out last night?”
“Yes. It’s Edith Hewitt.”
“Edith? So Georgina’s hunch was spot on?”
“Yep. You see, I requested Josephine’s archive alongside Edith’s. I found sketches for the portrait all but hidden away in the scrapbook, and then an entry in a logbook made a direct and explicitly passionate reference to Edith painting Josephine. I know there’s still an element of speculation perhaps, but the room for doubt is far less. Edith was the artist and her lover.”
“What a twenty-four hours.” Fran stood and examined her skirt for paint. “Does Georgina know?”
“I emailed her last night to provide her with an update and she asked if we could meet again at the records office for her to see the sketches. So we’re meeting there Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
“Yes. Don’t look at me like that. It was her idea.”
“So Evelyn’s sour face was because you told her you were carrying on researching the painting with Georgina?”
“Not exactly. That was the name change. Before you say anything, I know there’s a lot at stake.”
“I’ve said everything I care to on the matter.” Fran gestured for them to head back to their office. “I can’t help seeing that your unconventional methods are achieving results.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s just…don’t let the cost of those achievements be at the expense of your heart.”
“I won’t, I promise.”