Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor Bradford

kettle. ‘Oh, lovely! I’m just in time for tea,’ she exclaimed as she came into the kitchen.

      ‘That you are,’ Geo agreed, laughing. ‘I sort of anticipated you, I suppose.’ Lighting the gas ring under the kettle, Geo went on, ‘Come into the studio for a moment, M, please. I’ve finished the painting you liked … I’d love your opinion of it.’

      ‘Lead the way,’ M said, hurrying after Geo down the corridor and into the light-filled studio that opened onto the garden.

      Walking over to the easel, M stood in front of the large oil painting, instantly captivated. It was of a grand lake with stands of trees clustered on the rise of a hill at the far side of the water. The canvas was brilliant with autumn colours at the time of the changing of the leaves … russets, reds and pinks, amber, a strange purple-wine colour and varying shades of gold. And the entire painting was suffused with soft golden light, which seemed to shimmer across the surface of the water.

      Stepping back, M stared at it from a distance, and for quite a long time. Finally turning, she said to Geo, ‘Don’t touch it again. Leave it alone. It’s finished, and it’s superb. The way you’ve managed to capture light on canvas is brilliant. I’ve noticed this before in some of your other paintings, and it’s such a marvellous talent. Congratulations, Geo.’ She squeezed the other woman’s arm. ‘All your hard work has paid off.’

      Geo’s face was wreathed in smiles. She said softly, sounding pleased, ‘Thank you. I’m so thrilled you like it. I value your judgement.’

      The whistling of the kettle startled them both and, swinging around, Geo hurried across the studio, heading for the kitchen.

      For a moment longer, M lingered in front of the painting, continuing to study it, admiring it; she had become somewhat awed by Geo’s work, understanding that her friend was an artist of enormous talent who needed a break, just as she herself did.

      Sighing under her breath, M went out to the kitchen, hoping that Geo’s exhibition would be a stunning success: certainly she deserved nothing less.

      The two women sat in the windowed area of the kitchen, sipping their mugs of tea, talking about the upcoming exhibition to be held at a well-known gallery in December. And then, abruptly, Geo changed the subject when she said, ‘I’m glad we’ve become friends, M. I like you such a lot.’ She shook her head wonderingly, bit her lip. ‘When I remember how foolish I was, suspecting you and Dax, I feel like a real fool. I apologize again, M.’

      ‘Don’t be so silly, Geo, I’ve forgotten it.’

      Geo smiled, but she was fully aware that M hadn’t forgotten it. She knew she had managed to frighten M, and frighten her very badly, and she had a strange feeling that this fear still lingered. M had insisted that they install a new alarm system, and she’d had no option but to go along with it, splitting the bill with M. Well, the old system had been on the blink, and essentially M was right, wanting their security.

      Aware of the growing silence, Geo now said swiftly, with a laugh, ‘I have to admit it was jealousy of all things – silly, stupid jealousy …’

      M nodded her understanding, then glanced away, stared out of the window at the little back garden, lost in her thoughts. Suddenly sitting up straighter in the chair, she murmured, ‘In jealousy there is more self-love than love.’

      Geo was taken aback, but after a moment’s reflection she exclaimed, ‘There’s a great deal of wisdom in your words, M.’

      ‘Oh, no, not my words,’ M responded, shaking her head. ‘They were written by the Duc de La Rochefoucauld in the seventeenth century. Still, I believe they’re as applicable today as they were then.’

      ‘Absolutely,’ Geo agreed, and took a sip of the hot, sweet tea, wondering how M could remember that obscure but interesting quote. On the other hand, the young Englishwoman sitting opposite her was filled to overflowing with knowledge, and about so many different things. She could talk expertly about books and plays, movies and opera, and she knew a lot about art. Geo admired her for all this, and also because she was so brave, coming alone to New York, wanting to make it on her own. M’s aspirations were similar to her own, and Dax too shared the same kind of ambition.

      ‘How did you learn so much about art, M? I mean, you speak so expertly – yes, that’s the best word – about Renoir, Monet, Bonnard, the Impressionists, Post-Impressionists and Turner, particularly Turner. Even I don’t know everything you do.’

      ‘From my sister,’ M responded swiftly. ‘She took me to a lot of art galleries even when I was a kid, and she instilled a great deal of knowledge in me. Force-fed me, I suppose you could call it. I’ve always said that children learn so much from exposure to the arts in general, and certainly my exposure to all the great galleries in England and France helped to create a love of paintings in me.’

      M gave Geo a big smile. ‘I can admire, but I can’t do it – paint, I mean – but you can, Geo. You’re enormously talented, and don’t ever forget that, and you’ll see, your exhibition will be a tremendous success. And you’ll be on your way.’

      ‘Oh, God, I hope so, and all I can add to that is, from your mouth to God’s ears.’ Leaning across the table, Geo now murmured, ‘Guess who called me earlier?’

      ‘Dax.’

      Geo looked startled. ‘How do you know? Oh, he probably called you too, didn’t he?’

      ‘No, I haven’t heard from him today, but he’s the only person we have in common.’

      ‘Yes, that’s true. Anyway, he’s back in New York.’

      ‘Already!’ M sounded surprised, and she began to shake her head in disbelief. ‘Sooner than even I thought.’

      ‘Yes, me too. But he’s back because he’s got a job in the theatre at last. Can you imagine, he went to LA to look for work in the movies, then ends with a part in a play on Broadway.’

      ‘But that’s wonderful! How did it happen?’

      ‘He was introduced to Iris Ingersoll in Beverly Hills, at some party. Through an actor he met there – someone who befriended him, I think. Iris is a Broadway producer.’

      M was about to say she knew that, but swallowed the words. She realized she had been saying too much to Geo lately, revealing things, and so she merely nodded.

      ‘He’s starting rehearsals next week. He’s got the second lead, and the thing is this, M, he’s invited us to a party to sort of … well, celebrate, I guess. I hope you don’t mind, but I said yes. For both of us.’

      M gaped at her, frowning, but remained silent, continuing to frown.

      Geo exclaimed, ‘Oh, don’t look so upset, M! It’ll do you good to get out of this house. All you seem to do these days is wait on tables serving cheese cake and help women to try on expensive dresses. And visit the modelling agencies. Come on, say yes. Go with me. It will be a treat for both of us.’

      ‘When is it?’

      ‘Tonight.’

      ‘Short notice, wouldn’t you say?’ M raised a dark brow, eloquently so.

      ‘Yes, it is, and Dax said that himself. But he just decided to do it today. He called it an impromptu party, and he does want us to come so much. And I’ve nothing better to do. Do you?’

      ‘Where’s he having it?’ M asked, ignoring Geo’s question.

      ‘At Iris Ingersoll’s apartment. On Park Avenue. Drinks at nine, and a buffet supper around ten thirty. To cater to the theatre folk, you know, who’ll get there late.’

      ‘What’s the dress form? What are we supposed to wear?’

      ‘Something festive, Dax said.’

      ‘I guess I’d better go upstairs and ransack my wardrobe,’ M murmured, finally smiling at Geo.

      ‘Oh,