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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
They may not mean to, but they do - 36. Thirty-Six
‘It's just a drink to say thank you to the people who are supporting the restoration of the Michael Atkinson. There’s been a lot of interest in the project, and people discovering his work, which is great. But we want to try and keep them on board, as there are other bits and pieces in the school which need work. Some of it’s Listed, which makes it bloody expensive.’
Alison’s pitch had been low key and Keith had, foolishly he now thought, agreed to say a few words about the restoration. The thing was, there wasn’t much to say, the Atkinson was in pieces in Nico’s studio, and he was, slowly, re-winding coils for the transformers and doing much else besides. Then Thomas had suggested Jonty’s pictures, and the boy had been delighted to provide some photographs. He had been somewhat less delighted to provide himself, but it seems that his Mother had prevailed on this matter.
Now Keith was back in that modern kitchen, trying to make polite conversation with his former client whilst they waited for Jonty. Having exhausted the topic of work, Katya Kabanova popped into Keith’s head. Braving the perils of actually pronouncing the name, he mentioned his trip to the opera. It turned out that Jonty’s Mum was someone who enjoyed opera, who had heard of Janacek and who professed herself envious of Keith for having seen the production.
Jonty’s arrival prevented Keith from having to describe exactly what it was he had seen and heard. And Keith suspected his presence saved Jonty from some sort of comment from his Mother about what the boy was wearing (black sweatshirt with a logo, black t-shirt and jeans). Once in the van, Keith was able to find out that the logo was for an alternative photography magazine, one which was currently regarded as cool. Jonty had sent them a few pictures but not had any luck, yet.
“So, what’s this do about then, Mum was dead keen for me to go, said that I’d have the chance to make some useful contacts.”
“It’s to celebrate our restoring the Michael Atkinson figure, there’ll be people there who are supporting it financially and I’m going to say something about what we’re doing.”
“You some sort of expert, then, on doing this sort of thing?”
“Not at all”, Keith gave a short laugh, “the figure is owned by the school. It used to be a community art college, and local artists supported it by giving them work, which is why they own the Atkinson. The school doesn’t use all the buildings and charities rent bits as offices, now. My boyfriend, Thomas, runs one of the charities and knows Alison, the woman that runs the school. I got involved because of the Atkinson electrics, faulty electrics and so they needed someone, an electrician, to look at it.” He paused, and Jonty nodded. “And as I’m Thomas’ boyfriend, I came cheap. As far as art is concerned, I’m not an expert.”
Jonty laughed briefly, “So why’d Mum want me to go?”
“Alison wants to encourage people to support the restoration of other works of art at the school.”
“So, she’s out for money?”
“Yes. The school owns other important stuff, some actually part of the buildings. And things need repairing. It takes money, so there’s going to be a mix of people there. Donors, big-wigs, arty-folks, the lot. Folk who are interested in your photos and folk who might be interested in supporting new projects.”
“Mmm, I’m crap at that. I’d rather hide in a corner or take photos.”
Keith smiled, he could sympathise, “Well don’t take photos, talk to people. I think they’ll be showing your photos, so something to talk about.”
“Yeah”, it was said with resignation but then Jonty looked a bit livelier, “I expect you’re hating giving your speech as much?”
Keith nodded, “Right pair, aren’t we?”
The event was taking place in what was essentially a stair-well in the school, a bright, clean space, all angled lines and reflected light. Above the main stair, there was a space of blank wall onto which Jonty’s photographs were being projected. Hugely magnified, there were details of the figure, hands (Keith’s and Nico’s) carefully dismantling fragments of the figure. The images were striking, and Jonty’s reaction was hilarious, he came to a sudden halt, muttered ‘Fuck me’ under his breath and remained rooted to the spot.
However, Alison spotted them, welcomed Keith and Jonty, pointed Keith in the direction of Thomas, and having been properly introduced to Jonty, a gleam appeared in Alison’s eye, and she said that there was someone she wanted Jonty to meet. She turned to Keith, mouthed ‘speak to you in a minute, thanks’, smiled and whisked the young man away.
Thomas was standing in a corner, well there were plenty of those, and Keith joined him. Despite the public nature of the event they kissed, both becoming more comfortable with doing that in public.
“You collected Jonty OK?”
“Yeah, I think he was sort of pushed into it by his Mum, she wants him to make some contacts, do his career good.”
“And he doesn’t?”
“Would rather stand in a corner and take photos”, they both laughed, “but Alison spotted us arriving and whisked him away. Think she’s got those contacts organised.”
“Talented boy, quite a few people have commented on those”, Thomas nodded towards the photo display, “and it doesn’t hurt Alison’s case to be supporting talented young artists as well.”
At this moment Greg and Bart appeared, apparently being escorted by one of the school staff. Though they had talked about the Atkinson, Keith had not expected the pair at the reception. Greg’s eyes sparkled, “We’ve been getting the grand tour from Therese.” The woman, Therese, greeted Keith and Thomas then slipped away; Keith remembered who she was, Alison had referred to her as their art history nerd, she was the one who knew most about the building and its works of art. Clearly, buttering up potential donors.
Greg continued, “We were intrigued by the Atkinson and Bart started doing some digging. This place has quite an interesting background, turns out that a couple of my colleagues know people that have worked on it, both restoring the 1960s original and creating the new science block. I asked around and ended up being invited.” Greg seemed a bit apologetic, worried perhaps that they might be treading on toes.
Bart gave a wry smile, “It was all a bit last minute, but it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. We’ve just had a tour of the place, there’s quite a lot of interesting pieces, no wonder your friend Alison wants to try and drum up some support to restore some more.”
Greg continued, “She’s got her work cut out, the original building still needs plenty of work and there are several quite important pieces embedded in the fabric of the building. They really wanted to create a people’s palace of art, and though it’s incomplete and has a lot of dodgy later work, there’s still lots to enjoy.”
Thomas glanced over Bart’s shoulder, “‘Ware Isobel Bonner”.
Isobel strode up and said hello. They exchanged pleasantries whilst Greg and Bart politely slipped away, but Isobel wasn’t there to simply be polite, she wanted to know about the restoration, and about the pictures. Keith gave her a few details, but it was difficult to say much more. The piece was in unlovely bits, and they were waiting on Nico finishing. It was easier to slip onto Jonty, how he was the son of a client and Keith had seen his photographs of another Atkinson.
Their rather stilted conversation was brought to a halt as Alison, microphone in hand, stood on a half-landing of the staircase asking for quiet. She proceeded to thank everyone for coming and for their support and then introduced two further speakers. First was Therese who talked a little about other works of art in the school’s collection with just the right mix of amusing story, art history and begging for money. Then the school governor with the big moustache, who managed to make asking for money funny, and then Alison reappeared and introduced Keith.
Thomas grinned, “Your moment, knock ‘em dead”.
Keith gave a wry grin and went up. He stumbled a bit and tried not to look at all the faces staring at him, but he gave a brief summary of what was happening and was able to refer to some of the images which were being displayed, joking about the close up of his hands. It was all over quickly, and then Alison was rounding things off and asking people to show their support for future enterprises.
There were more people there that they knew, Charlotte and her boyfriend, plus of course people, Thomas knew through work, including one or two of YAFA’s sponsors, which meant that Keith was introduced as Thomas’ partner, a bit scary but all were friendly, and many interested in Atkinson and what it took to restore such a work. Greg and Bart seemed to be busy working the room, either Greg knew lots of people there or he was making new contacts; probably a bit of both, they agreed. Keith had wondered what Greg and Bart were doing after the reception, it seemed too late to go home to cook, but both he and Thomas were hungry. Undoubtedly Alison would hopefully be busy with some of the people she was trying to drum up support from, and it looked as if Greg and Bart were doing the same. They popped over to say goodbye and Bart mouthed ‘sorry’, whilst Greg introduced a couple as clients. It seems that the net of contacts was intersecting in all sorts of ways.
When they’d gone, Thomas whispered to Keith, “Are you sure there’s no-one here whose fuse-box you’ve fixed?” They smiled.
“Clients would probably not recognise me in these clothes.”
Thomas sniggered, “You mean you ought to have come in overalls with a big badge saying electrical repairs undertaken!”
“Hardly, I couldn’t tout for business here!”
Thomas shrugged, “That’s what a lot of these people are doing. In the nicest possible way. It’s what these dos are about, making contacts.”
Alison appeared quite late, just as they were wondering about leaving. She thanked Keith and apologised for abandoning them, but there had been a lot of people there to talk to. It had been successful too, and Jonty, she referred to him as ‘your pretty young man’, had been quite a hit. Was he pretty, Keith wasn’t sure, he’d have to ask Thomas? Then someone else was going to leave, and Alison apologised and dashed off, mouthing that they would speak soon.
Jonty appeared shortly afterwards and was ready to leave. All agreed that they were hungry, as they piled into the van (Thomas left his car behind and they’d collect it tomorrow), and Jonty suggested a Greek place which was almost on the route to his Mum’s.
Zorba’s was a friendly local restaurant, lively with a family group at one table and a bunch of women on a night out at another. It was a place Jonty enjoyed; he explained that they did a cheap early evening menu, and it was one of the few places that he and his parents could agree on when it came to food. He grinned when he said this, and they felt that Jonty seemed to be relaxing somewhat. They settled down and ordered.
“You manage to speak to anyone useful?”
Jonty looked at Keith a bit sheepishly, “Yeah. It was great actually. Alison’s cool, she had people lined up to chat to me. A few folk from Leeds Uni, some local businessmen who were interested in photographs, a couple of women from a trust or foundation or something”. He grinned, “It gives grants, and they like my stuff. And, one of the women who was a trustee had brought her husband, and he has a gallery and was interested.”
“Congratulations. Your Mum’ll be pleased. Did you get all their details?”
Again, Jonty looked a bit sheepish and produced a small notebook, in it written in tiny, neat writing were a series of names, email addresses and such, along with a few business cards. At the back of the book, Jonty had created a series of slips, each one with his name and email.
“Mum wanted me to go online and buy some of those cheap business cards, but they were horrible, so I figured these’d do better.” He grinned and put the book away as the food arrived. Clearly, Jonty was going to be OK.
There was quiet whilst they addressed the food. Their waiter, a young guy who looked convincingly Greek fussed over them and ensured they had plenty of everything, and Jonty attacked it all with a will.
Eventually, though, he looked up at Thomas, “One of the women at the party was talking about you.”
“About me?”
“Well, your charity, art for all, and what it does, evidently she’s some sort of trustee.”
“Ah, Frances, probably, she was there.”
“Well, I wondered. I’ve got to put together a project for Uni, it needs to be a community thing, so the restoration stuff won’t work, though that’s great for my portfolio. So, I thought your classes sounded kind of interesting, what with the art and the kids and that.”
Thomas smiled, “Never work with children or animals!”
“What?”, both Keith and Jonty looked puzzled, Thomas smiled.
“A distinguished actor, I forget whom, about working on stage. Kids are tricky, but there’s also the issue of getting the parents’ permissions for the photographs.”
“Mmm, well that could be part of the community stuff, I’d get involved in it. And we could offer them free photos, they could download them, and I know someone who gives me great rates for printing. And, well, I can miss the kids’ faces.”
Thomas nodded, Jonty seemed to have made an effort and thought about it properly, “Ok. I’ll need to chat to a few people, my staff (all two of them), and some of the trustees. But I think it will work. We’ll get in touch this week and firm something up. OK?”
Jonty looked delighted and returned to attacking his kebabs. It looked as if they would be seeing more of the young man.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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