Page 4 of Painting Ghosts

I rolled my eyes. “And so speaks the clueless artist. How the hell do you think Chrissie sells your stuff now? It’s not only art galleries and shows, you berk. She has to get an audience beyond that of only a showing to get your work out there.”

Theo looked puzzled. “But my art always sells in the gallery. Why do I need to get more customers when I don’t have anything left to sell?”

He had me a bit there. Theo’s stuff sold like hotcakes, and he wasn’t one of those artists who produced on demand just to make a sale. He didn’t need the money when his paintings went for upwards of ten thousand pounds each, often more.

“Ah, but without the work Chrissie does to spark the interest, would people come to the gallery in the first place?” I nudged his shoulder. “Anyway, I think making yourself a little more accessible won’t do you any harm. The world needs to see the genius that is Theo Daikon. Who knows? You could get a commission to paint for Buckingham Palace or something.”

He pursed his lips, his eyes lighting up. “That could happen?” Theo was something of a Royalist and loved following the Royal family. Me, I couldn’t give a hoot about them.

I shrugged. “We’ll never know unless we get you out there, will we?” I congratulated myself on my wily approach. “So come on, let me see this email.”

Theo brought up the email, and as I leaned forward to read it, something flitted across the corner of my eye. I flicked my gaze away from the screen and swore I saw the figure of a young girl in a strapless green dress disappear out into the hallway.

“Hey, who the hell are you?” I called out.

Theo jumped in his chair and glared at me. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You scared me to effing death.”

I didn’t answer but scooted off my stool and ran over to the empty doorway. I peered out down the hallway, into the grand entrance as far as I could see, but there was no one there.

“Tyler, have you finally lost it?” Theo grabbed my shoulder. “Am I finally going to have make that call to your folks to tell them their son’s been committed?”

I shook my head, perplexed. “I swear I saw a girl in the room, then she ran out here.” I waved a hand around us. “She wore a green sundress, you know, like those boob tubes one the ladies wear.”

“Boob tubes?” Theo said with a smirk. “You’re showing your age, mate. That fashion went out in the nineties, surely?”

I sniffed. “Shows what you know. They’re well in this year. Don’t you read any fashion news?”

“I’d rather stick screwdrivers in my eyes,” Theo muttered.

I ignored him. “Well, I saw something. Are you sure there’s no one else on the property?”

Theo grinned. “It’s just you and me here, Ty. We’re all alone...” He wiggled his eyebrows, and I chuckled. However, the thought did make me all warm inside.

“Maybe I need a drink. What you got?”

Chapter 2

We ended up sitting on his sleeping bag in the living room next door, where he’d started a roaring fire in the ornate fireplace that stretched ten feet up the wall. You could hang at least ten Christmas stockings on the marble mantelpiece with room to spare. Christmas was only a few days away, and I’d made no plans yet. I’d probably ask Theo to come round, and we’d have a microwave turkey dinner, sitting on the couch in front of my oil heater. Oh, joy.

Dust-sheeted furniture dotted the room, and on the walls were paintings of landscapes and still lives of scenes perhaps from the Victorian age.

It was getting dark outside, and shadows flickered eerily against the drawing-room walls. The heavy, silky curtains were drawn, giving the room a cosy feel.

We sipped red wine out of plastic beakers and nibbled on a couple of Greg’s sausage rolls which we’d warmed up by the fire. Theo’s backpack seemed to be a treasure of snacks, random paintbrushes, tubes of half squeezed paint, and a half a dozen squashed pamphlets from various art galleries.

I admit it was cosy sitting there together, stretched out before the fire, listening to the roaring wind outside, and raising our glasses in various silly Christmas toasts.

“To Rudolph.” I took a swig of my wine, which was well going to my head. “May he forever be bright and light the way.”

Theo chuckled. He too was on his way to being merry. “To Mrs Claus. May she keep Santa happy and in a good mood and give him a shag before she sends him on his way to deliver our presents.”

I giggle-snorted and slapped a hand over my mouth in mortification. “Oh God, sorry, no one should ever make one of those noises.”

Theo reached out, and his warm, calloused hand grasped mine. “I don’t know. I found it rather adorable.” His eyes darkened in the dim light, and I saw the flames from the flickering fire reflected in his eyes. The room got much hotter. If I’d had a collar, I’d have loosened it.

I cleared my throat and downed my wine, then held it out for more. Theo poured me another glass and topped his up. I guessed I wasn’t going to be driving home tonight. I’d be staying over.

“It’s been a while since we did this,” Theo murmured. “The last time was when we went to Cyprus and drank ourselves stupid on ouzo, remember? We ended up puking into that old Grecian urn my mum had on the porch.”