Holly might have been forgiven for thinking she’d stepped straight off the plane into Art’s gallery. She couldn’t have known that in 1998 the airport had established an exhibitions programme to enhance the traveller’s experience and promote the cultural life of the city. Evidence of that culture was all around her as she moved from the baggage collection area into a whole new world.
Her heart was beating a tattoo so violently she could feel it in her ribcage. Some of it was a natural excitement and the rest in no small part was due to apprehension. What, after all, did she know of this amazing country and the variety of people who called it home? Or of the man she’d flown across the Atlantic to see?
Squaring her shoulders she still felt tiny. No three-inch heeled shoes to help her this time. She’d travelled in casual clothes. After all, no one undertook the kind of journey she just had dressed in their Sunday best. Holly was as human as the next person and the sort of clothes that would normally have given her confidence a small boost were neatly packed in her suitcase. She swallowed hard and moved forward with the rest of the passengers into the arrivals area.
The exhibition of art seemed to continue throughout the building and so much did it demand her attention that it took her a few moments to notice a man holding a board with her name written on it. The fear of being stranded at the airport left her and she moved towards him.
‘It’s great to meet you,’ the man said, pumping her hand vigorously. ‘I’m Patrick, Art’s deputy. I’ll be looking after you while you’re here.’ Having said this he swept her away to the car, talking so much she felt breathless just listening to him.
Until recently Holly had lived her whole life in London so it wasn’t like she was going to be intimidated by size and splendour. Nevertheless she couldn’t help but be impressed as Patrick drove the freeway into the city and she couldn’t wait to experience what Philadelphia might have to offer during her short stay.
As they drew up outside her hotel and Patrick got out of the car, not quite quickly enough to beat the concierge into opening the door for Holly, he said, ‘Art’s tied up for the next hour or so. He suggested you settle in and freshen up and we could all meet later for something to eat.’
Holly’s heart sank. In spite of sleeping on the plane her tiredness had caught up with her and all she wanted to do was have a shower and fall into bed. She discovered that not much slipped past Patrick.
‘But I told him you’d probably be exhausted and maybe we should leave the welcome celebrations for tomorrow. Up to you though.’
She looked at him gratefully.
‘If you don’t mind, and if Art doesn’t, I think I’ll just turn in. It’s been a very long day and an exciting one too. Please would you apologise for me. I do think tomorrow would be better.’
‘Sure thing. I’ll pick you up in the morning at, what, ten o’clock suit you? It’s not far to the gallery but it’s not often anyone here walks anywhere. Except in the parks and in any case we certainly won’t get a car anywhere near the ground when we take you to see the Philadelphia Phillies.’
‘Philadelphia Phillies?’
‘Local team. No way can you come to America and not see a baseball game. I’ll be sure and get you there before you go home.’
‘Thank you, Patrick. I’d love that. See you tomorrow then.’ But he didn’t leave until he’d escorted her to reception and made sure she had her card key and that a bellboy was ready to take her to her room.
Once there she flung herself on the huge bed in the huge suite and then had to force herself up to take a shower before succumbing to the danger of falling asleep fully clothed.
***
Next morning Holly discovered that the rumours about an American breakfast are all true! Unable to resist, she was somewhat fearful that she might need to have second thoughts about the smart clothes she’d laid out on the bed to change into. Served her right. She never did join that gym. She worried in vain but swore not to repeat the indulgence next morning – but then temptation is such a devil isn’t it.
Ready in good time for Patrick, she sat in the foyer reading a local guide and at the instigation of the concierge – ‘Take the copy with you. We have plenty more.’ – put it in her bag to study later. She was sure Art wouldn’t have designated every minute of every day of her visit to work. Patrick had more or less said as much when he’d talked about baseball the day before. She was looking forward to seeing Art again, and Patrick too, who had told her about his wife, Beth, and their children on the journey from the airport and who she was hoping to meet sometime.
She looked up from the page to see Patrick moving towards her. As she rose he took her arm and escorted her out to the car. She was delighted by his charm and that of everyone else she had met so far. She threw away all her preconceived ideas about brash in-your-face Americans. She liked these people.
***
Holly’s jaw dropped as they reached the gallery. Outside was a huge picture of her, goodness knows where Art had got it, inviting people to come in and see the work of his latest discovery, a blonde-haired pink-cheeked English rose. She was embarrassed but also secretly delighted. It prepared her a little for what was to come and the poster was replicated inside, on an easel, pointing the way to one of the galleries.
Patrick took her elbow again. ‘Wait till you see this; I think you’ll be pleased.’ He led her to the long spacious room where her work, and only her work, was on display. If she’d had any doubts about the set-up or any of the information Phoebe had given her – and she should have known better than to doubt Phoebe – they left her now. This was the real McCoy and slowly it sunk in that the dream had become a reality.
Like her own preview, and this was the only likeness she could perceive, there was a red dot sticker on one of the paintings, an indication that while it was still on display it had already been sold. Art was adjusting the position of a frame but turned towards them as they came in.
‘Ah, my little English rose,’ he said and to her embarrassment kissed her enthusiastically first on one cheek and then on the other. ‘It’s great to see you again.’ He swept a gesture around the room. ‘You are pleased?’
‘How could I not be? It’s amazing, Art. I had no idea it would be so big.’
‘This is America, Holly. You will learn that everything here is big. Your journey was good?’
‘You’ve certainly spoilt me. What a wonderful way to travel. I even slept some of the way but I hope you’ll forgive me for last night.’
‘Patrick said you would be tired and Patrick is usually right. I have learned over the years to listen to him.’
Holly pointed to the painting with the red dot. ‘Does that mean what I think it does?’
‘Of course. The practice is universal I believe. The exhibition opens tomorrow but I have one or two privileged customers I always invite for an early showing. I am not the only one who appreciates your talent with the brush and use of colour.’
Holly liked the way Art acted as if he was doing these people a huge favour rather than that they were allowed in early so they’d be the first to have an opportunity to spend their money. She moved in closer and gasped when she saw the price tag he’d put on that painting and indeed on all the others. Impossible as it was to believe it seemed she’d hit the big time, by her standards anyway.
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘I don’t expect to sell them all, Holly, so don’t get too excited.’ Too late. ‘But my feeling is I’d like to give the exhibition a full four weeks, if that’s okay with you, and then maybe run another one in six months. Would you be happy with that?’
‘I wouldn’t be able to keep coming over, Art. I still have a business to run.’
‘No need. This month’s showing will establish you and hopefully give you a following. I’ll send someone over to take photos of the rest of your work and put them up on the website. If I’m any judge you are going places. Just glad to be the one to take you there.’
Holly’s composure left her completely and she flung her arms around her benefactor and hugged him. He was delighted.
‘Okay, run off with Patrick now. I have things to do here. I know he has plenty of things planned for your entertainment. We’ll meet up later for dinner.’
***
Patrick took Holly on a whirlwind guided tour of the city starting with a visit to see Independence Hall and the iconic Liberty Bell. She’d heard of it of course but she was pretty ignorant of all things American and was moved to see its message: ‘Proclaim Liberty Throughout All the Land Unto All the Inhabitants thereof’ and more so because that message was inspirational to abolitionists, advocates of women’s suffrage, and civil rights leaders. She felt a lump in her throat as she imagined thousands of others must have before her. From there they went to the nearby Benjamin Franklin Museum after which Holly was flagging a bit so Patrick took her back to the hotel for a short break before dinner.
‘Don’t worry though, we’ll do some more tomorrow.’
Holly realised she was barely going to scratch the surface of this magnificent city in the time she had available but she was determined to cover as much ground as possible while she could. After a shower and change she went back downstairs to find a car waiting to take her to the restaurant where she was to meet the ladies.
To say she was a little apprehensive would be an understatement. She remembered what Art had said at their first meeting, about not having guests to stay at his home because he had to consider his wife. She’d formed the idea of a prim woman who expected everything to be just so; surely this could be the only reason she didn’t like to have visitors. Holly couldn’t have been more wrong.
‘They don’t come any lazier than me, darlin’. I’m far too selfish to spend time organising other folks’ entertainment when I can get someone else to do it for me. Life’s too short, ain’t that the truth.’
Darcy’s exuberance was matched only by that of her friend, Patrick’s wife Beth. It was a splendid evening!
***
Holly spent two hours at the gallery each morning signing programmes and talking to visitors, returning in the evening to meet and greet again. Many professed an interest in England and the hope to visit one day.
‘Be sure to come and see me in Cuffingham if you do.’
‘That sounds quintessentially English.’
‘It is,’ Holly replied to this and several other people who asked the same question.
‘How quaint. And you’ve always lived there?’
‘No, in fact I only moved a few months ago. I’m from London originally.’
‘Wow, now that’s a place I’d really like to see.’
‘And I’m sure you wouldn’t be disappointed, any more than I am with your beautiful city.’
She had much the same conversation with most people, some commenting on her English accent and some, to her discomfort, on her pink cheeks which were only that colour because of the fulsome compliments she was being paid. On the whole she was left pretty much to her own devices. Art and Patrick were both busy, either elsewhere in the gallery or out she knew not where. She wasn’t the least disconcerted. In an environment she was familiar with Holly was completely at ease and as such promoted herself without even trying. To her amazement another painting sold before she left for home. Any doubts she’d been harbouring about her work not being commercially viable were put to rest.
Each day at noon Patrick and or Art would come and collect her, take her to lunch and spend the afternoon showing her more of the city of which they were justifiably proud. One afternoon when both men were busy she was taken under the wings of their spouses. Three women together? Shopping! They took her to Macy’s.
‘What a thrill that was,’ she later told Emma. ‘The Grand Court is the location for one of the world’s largest organs, the Great Pipe Organ. Concerts are performed twice daily. They actually played it while I was there! I was so excited I may have squeaked but I don’t think anyone noticed. Nobody said anything anyway.’
Holly also spent far more than she would have on herself buying gifts for the friends who were holding the fort at home, justifying herself because she had, after all, sold two paintings for what seemed to her to be an indecent amount of money. They finished the afternoon by going back to Darcy and Art’s home, where they shared iced drinks and a welcome break.
Holly was delighted with the apartment. She’d expected the couple to live in a place that was ostentatious and frankly, well, in your face. Instead it was decidedly understated. The wealth of its owners was obvious but so too was their impeccable taste. Instead of being frightened to move for fear of breaking something Holly felt comfortable immediately. Another misconception went out the window.
The highlight of her visit was the promised trip to see the Philadelphia Phillies. This was more of a family outing than anything else. Art and Darcy didn’t have children but their nephew joined the party together with Beth and Patrick’s girls. Holly knew less than nothing about baseball. People wandered in and out all the time and there was no such thing as segregation of team supporters like there was in English football.
‘You should have seen the food and drink sellers just moving freely among the crowd, and there was a really good-natured rivalry between opposing factions. It felt like a Sunday afternoon in the park – only so much bigger,’ Holly told Emma later in yet another email.
Holly’s party arrived before the start and someone sang ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’. After that was the ceremonial first ball. ‘It’s a long-standing tradition,’ Patrick said, ‘where a guest of honour throws a ball to mark the end of pre-game festivities and the start of the game.’ She was astonished at one point when the whole audience stood up and sang:
Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd;
Just buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack
I don’t care if I never get back.
Let me root, root, root for the Phillies,
If they don’t win, it’s a shame.
For it’s one, two, three strikes, you’re out,
At the old ball game.
One of the children tried to explain the rules to Holly, some of which were fairly simple but she couldn’t quite work out the niceties of the home run other than that they were ‘Out of the Park’ or ‘Inside the Park’, which was obvious anyway. They ate far too much junk food but nobody seemed to care. It was, apparently, a tradition.
Holly saw Patrick’s family once more before her visit ended and they promised to keep in touch. In some way Holly felt she’d been there for weeks and in another she couldn’t figure out where the time had gone. Patrick took her to the airport and gave her a huge hug before sending her on her way.
‘I’m going to miss you all so much, Patrick. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.’
‘It’s been a pleasure. And don’t you worry none. Art’s delighted to have made a new discovery and will no doubt take the credit for you being his protégé the more famous you become.’
‘I’d love to think so, and if it happens he deserves to. There’s no way my work would ever have made it to the States without him.’
‘He knows talent when he sees it. Have a safe trip home. I’ll be in touch, or he will, when we need some more paintings sent over. In the meantime, you take care.’
‘You too,’ she said and turned away before he could see the tears that welled up and flooded over. She tried to read while waiting in the departure lounge but memories of her visit kept flooding in and eventually she put the book away and allowed herself to dwell on the events of the past week.
It would seem the fame she sought had come to her with very little effort on her own part, other than the time invested in her work. It was localised of course but Philadelphia was a big city that entertained a lot of visitors. Who knew what might happen in the future. The whole American experience had been amazing, nothing like she’d expected, and filled with the making of memories she would hold dear for a long time to come.
Was it something she would like to be part of on a more permanent basis? She was still asking herself the question as she boarded the plane but by the time they arrived at Heathrow she knew the answer without question. Philadelphia was a city of magic, different but in its way the same as any other major city where theatre and parks and shopping offered something for everyone.
Holly had loved living in London but as the plane taxied along the runway her thoughts were of home, of the friends who were waiting, of her own personal corner of the world.