Rokeby Venus

Garry, after enduring two months of a disappointing silence, texted Sarah with an open ended: How's it going?

He received an almost instant reply: Mad busy. Sorry I about no contact. Must run to my next course. TX for enquiry.

Thereafter he did receive a brief text every two weeks along the lines of their first text. Gerry felt like he's been kicked in the gut when a text a couple of months later Sarah referred to a boyfriend. He calmed himself down by thinking how irrational, and probably creepy, he was being. He tried to forget Sarah and had some success in returning his thoughts to memories of Sylvia.

He saw Steve from time to time when he went to London. Sarah was never mentioned.

A former colleague, Phil, who had a yacht, moved into the area. They became pals and hung out together sailing, playing golf and as the winter settled in, he was persuaded by Jim to take up bridge.

He continued to paint. Their group had a local exhibition before Christmas that excluded Vicky because her galleries did not allow exhibition of her work in amateur shows. He sold six pieces. He covered all the costs of the canvasses and paints he had laid out in the previous year. He was pleased, although the accountant in him noted that none of his time was reimbursed.

Just after Christmas he learned from an excited Sarah, in a rare telephone call, that Vicky had been in touch and asked permission to submit her portrait and her other painting to the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition. They chatted for a while, mainly as to how her courses were going.

******

It took a while but eventually his daily life established a pattern comfortable for Gerry. The days and weeks seemed to shoot by faster and faster.

A text from Sarah told Gerry that her father had died suddenly of an aneurism. She did not seem too upset for reasons he did not understand.

In early May, Vicky told Gerry she had submitted Sarah's portrait and the Rokeby Venus to the RA for the summer exhibition and they had accepted both. She said that she had waited until she knew they were in before she told him. She hoped he wasn't offended. He was a bit upset but shook it off.

Vicky handed over the invitation to the opening of the RA exhibition at one of their Tuesday gatherings, adding that Sarah and her mother would be there too.

Gerry took the train to London having come to hate the traffic restrictions and charges in the central area. He dressed up for the occasion in a stylish light oatmeal-coloured sports jacket, crisp white shirt, matching slacks, and light shoes. He was nervous to see Sarah again. He had no idea how he would react in her presence.

They arranged to meet in the entrance vestibule. The press of the crowd queueing up to get in gave Gerry some cause for concern that he would not be able to find them once in the building. He hoped they had already arrived.

Once inside, he spotted them in a corner near the door. Vicky wore a shimmering green dress and could hardly be missed. Sarah sported cream trousers that hung and swung invitingly from her hips and bum, topped with a contour hugging matching blouse buttoned down the front.

The thing he first noticed about the third woman, who he assumed was Sarah's mother, was that the others seemed to tower over her. He thought she could not be more than five feet tall. Gerry questioned, in his mind, how this slip of a woman had given birth to eight children. She looked slim and trim in a floral summer dress. Her posture and mannerism signalled an energetic and engaged individual. He liked her even before he met her.

Gerry hugged Vicky and Sarah before being introduced to Jane, Sarah's mum. After the quick introductions, Jane, with her blue eye's sparking asked if they could go now to see Sarah's portrait. Vicky agreed that getting in before the crowd became too dense was a good idea. Vicky led the way.

Sarah's portrait stood out because of the shining gold leaf of the dress and in the nature of the compositional panels forming the background. Not quite Klimt, but a neat variation on his theme that most of the knowledgeable visitors on that day would instantly recognise. Jane gushed her enthusiasm on Vicky. She loved how she had rendered her youngest daughter. She had tears in her eyes. A couple of the bystanders turned to Sarah and, recognizing her, told her that she looked radiant, and well done, as if she had painted herself.

It was Sarah's turn to push Vicky, "Where's the Venus? Can we see that now?" Vicky led them as they picked their way through the increasing number of people in the galleries. Gerry was gobsmacked when he saw the painting hanging high enough on the wall to be visible over everyone's heads. He estimated that the frame was eight feet wide and six high. "Vicky. You vixen. You never said it would be that big! Wow. That's a winner."

Vicky looked pleased at her friend's initial reaction, "But what about the painting? What do you think?"

Now Gerry took some time to examine the work. He observed the essence of Velazquez's Rokeby Venus was established with the painting of the nude back view of the reclining figure. Sarah's back was a close reproduction but seemed a touch more youthful, as indeed it was. Some drapery also echoed the original. The cherub had been replaced by a realistic rendering of still life of a large bowl of fruit and the mirror by a clearly identifiable laptop. Beside the computer was an apple with one bite out of it. He wanted to applaud his friend. He turned around and hugged her instead, whispering her ear, "You clever bugger. A laptop. That is so good. And the apple that's been bitten into. Eve. A MacPro computer and original sin all linked in one image. That's serious shit. Sarah's back will certainly get more than its fair share of the male gaze."

He turned to study the painting more closely. He felt something was wrong. His eye lingered on the only abstract, the vague imagery on the screen of the computer. It was not Sarah's face as in the original. He almost choked when he discerned that the abstract image might just be two figures fucking, with one leaning over the back of a sofa and the other entering from behind. He thought of his time with Sarah and blushed. Someone to his left said to her friend, "Oh that's just like some corporate logo on the computer screen. Can't think the name of the company. Why do you think she did that?" He was relieved not everyone would spot the copulation going on as if Venus was watching pornography. One other detail in the painting niggled at him. Sarah's butt cheeks and crack were a bit off. This was strange since the realistic painting of the rest of the canvas was so spot on.

He turned to Vicky and leant to talk into her ear, "The image on the computer screen: is that two people screwing?"

"Whatever you want it to be sweetie. I'm not saying."

"Suddenly you're being coy? Okay, how about Sarah's buttocks. They're a bit off. Do plan to correct them?"

"The artist always has he last say, right? You're on your own with the computer image. But a clue on the other. Bee pee."

"Eh?"

"That's all your getting."

At that moment Sarah and Jane moved close to Gerry and Vicky. Sarah interrupted before Garry could quiz Vicky further, "I'm worth thirty thousand?"

Vicky looked at her watch and answered, "Sarah, you're worth a lot more than that. I must run and see the administrator. I'm already a few minutes late. I believe there is some bidding going regarding the painting. A Yank and a Saudi are squaring off. The way things are going there may be a bonus in it for you later. No promises. Gotta go. Love you all. I'll be in touch soon." Vicky turned and was lost in the crowd in a moment.

Sarah turned to her mother, "I'm so sorry, but I must go as well." She screwed up her nose, "Hope you don't mind. I told Josh I'd meet him outside about now. I promised him. You two okay together?"

Jane looked at Gerry, gave a broad smile, and replied, "I think we'll manage." Gerry also smiled and nodded.

Gerry jumped in, "Before you go. How many stars out of five would you give the painting?"

"Oh, five. Can I give six?" She gave her patented giggle.

Jane jumped in. "Me too."

A stranger who overhead this last little exchange added, "Sign me up for five stars too."

*******

Epilogue.

Jane and Gerry walked around the exhibition for an hour before Gerry admitted he's seen enough.

"Me too. Can we make our way out to take one last look at Sarah's portrait?

"Of course. I'm sure it's this way."

Once they found the painting Jane asked, "Do you have one of those mobile phones with a camera?"

"Yes." Gerry fished it out. "Want a shot of you with the portrait?"

"Please."

They found a moment when the space was clear around the painting. Gerry took a quick series of photos to ensure one would turn out well.

"I'll get your email later to send them to you. Have you ever eaten at Simpson's on the Strand? That is, if you like beef?"

"Never. But love to. As for beef, cut off its horns and its tail and I'm good to go."

Gerry could not resist the pun, "Ah, you're a rare creature."

Jane burst out laughing as she shook her head from side to side.

Outside they snagged a taxi. Gerry had spent so many business meals at Simpson's he was on first name terms with the maître d'. There was no problem getting a table over in one corner.

After they had sat, Gerry apologized to Jane for not offering his condolences concerning her husband's death earlier.

For the first time she looked serious. "Gerry. I have a lot to say to you and tell you. I'll start by saying no apologies are necessary. Jim was a tyrant and bully. I am glad he is dead." She paused, "Do I shock you?"

Gerry did not know how to respond to the news he just received. All he could think to say was a surprised "Oh. How come?"

"I was a student nurse. Nineteen years old. He was thirty. He had money. He wined and dined me. He spoilt me. Literally, I was later to discover. I became pregnant. We married. It was under year later, after the baby was born, I was bouncing back. He was an accountant and had the certificate on the wall."

Gerry interrupted reflexively, "I'm an accountant too."

"I know, but not his kind. He had irregular hours and did a lot of work at home. Sometimes I saw bags of cash coming in. I dug around a little and found out that there was something fishy about what he was doing. One day he caught me snooping. That evening he told me to my face that he worked for an organized gang. He called it the mob. He said they had enforcers. If I told anyone what he did or tried to escape, he would find me, and they had people who would not think twice about killing my child."

"That's horrific. What did you do?"

"I was very scared and felt alone. What could I do? I sucked it in, and just went along with it. I always had money to buy food, new clothes, a car, and we lived in a nice mansion. Life was pleasant. He fucked me - excuse the phrase - about once a month. At the risk of TMI, I never had an orgasm with him. I was like a blow-up doll. He had no regard for my pleasure. He never used condoms and threw my pills out when he found them, which must have been a dozen times when I managed to get some. I was very fertile, and he had excellent swimmers. I had eight children over thirteen years."

"Sarah said you were religious. That doesn't make sense."

"He was not stupid. He created this faux religious atmosphere in the house to keep us all in line on a day-to-day basis. We attended one of those born-again churches to create the right impression. He was seemingly a pillar of the community, giving to charity and making nice in public. We knew the consequences if we did not play along. The kids grew up with it and I had become so inured to the toxic environment I just went along with it. It sounds disgusting when I say it out loud. I was the classic abused wife. After Sarah was born, I was able to get my tubes tied off secretly. I was thirty-three. This small victory meant I could at least be free of being pregnant."

The meal was served. Jane ate in silence for a few minutes. Gerry was rendered mute at such revelations.

"Time went by. Sarah was the brightest of all the children. I was determined to keep her safe. We did not give any sex education and two of the oldest daughters got pregnant. One father disappeared, perhaps eliminated, and the other married and then divorced two years later. The ex-husband took off on the next plane to Australia. I managed to get Sarah on birth control pills as soon as she left for uni. She thought they were just to regulate her period."

"You're now free after Jim had an aneurysm?"

"An aneurysm? That's the fiction. He was bumped off by a rival gang. The police knew all about Jim, but could never prove anything, he was that good. I don't think they are looking too hard for his murderer. I had to laugh when the gang's new accountant screwed up immediately and so badly virtually all of them are heading for a long time in jail."

"So where does that leave you?"

"Actually, quite rich with offshore accounts and a whole stash of money in fifties and hundreds hidden in his toolboxes in his workshop. That money was his rainy-day fund if things went tits up. You may have heard I keep Sarah on a short leash financially so she can learn the value of money."

"Rich widow now?"

"I suppose. But a naïve and ignorant one I now realize. Not stupid, but how can I say this, unexposed and needing plenty of education and a deeper life experience. Pretty well how Sarah was when she arrived with you."

Gerry saw a potentially difficult part of the conversation coming his way. He pushed for neutral, "Oh, really? Why do you say that?"

"Oh, dear Gerry, I say it with authority. Sarah told me everything, and I mean absolutely every-fucking-thing that happened to her when she was with you and Vicky. Ha, and what about the fifty-year club, for example? And before you choke on this excellent roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, I applaud you and Vicky. Kudos to you both. My darling Sarah has been liberated in a way none of my other children have had a chance."

Gerry sat stunned. He could not think of any answer to that.

After pausing to collect her thoughts Jane continued, "I can sum this up with one question, or more precisely, a proposal: do you need a five-star, fifty-six-year-old, tube-tied, housekeeper in good health, having managed a large home with many children and who is willing to learn anything and everything you can teach her? She even comes with her newly purchased BPs."

Gerry slapped his head. Looking up in the air, out loud he shouted, "Bee fucking Pees. Oh, Vicky you twisted soul. I get it. A BP'd Venus!"

"Eh?"

"Oh. The painting. Sarah's butt." Taking a deep breath and lowering his gaze to Jane, "Oh, yes, you're hired. It's definite. We'll discuss benefits later. Soon no more plain Jane, Jane." His smile said everything.