Picture Imperfect - By Nicola Yeager Page 0,3

doesn’t like it.

Half an hour later, I hear Mark’s key in the lock and, as usual, he opens the door really quickly, as if he’s trying to catch me out in the middle of some unsuitable activity with a well-muscled artist’s model (chance would be a fine thing). But he doesn’t have to worry about that because a) I don’t use artist’s models, b) I couldn’t afford one even if I did and c) If I was going to bonk one, I’d probably book both of us into a posh hotel for an obscene weekend. Does that sound like I’ve been fantasising?

Mark is a little later than usual, which is unusual for him. He is a creature of habit, which is a good thing and a bad thing. Don’t ask me to elaborate.

‘Hello, gorgeous!’ He walks over and kisses me on the cheek and then, as if suddenly remembering that I’m meant to be his girlfriend and that we sometimes have sex, on the mouth. He seems in an unusually good mood and I’m wondering if he’s been promoted or something. What could you get promoted to if you lecture in banking? Not having to lecture in banking ever again under any conceivable circumstances for as long as you lived would seem like a pretty good promotion to me.

He walks past me while reaching into his briefcase and pulling out a bottle of wine. Obviously there is something to celebrate, then. He places it on the kitchen surface and nods at it. ‘Thought we could have that with dinner tonight! Have you made anything yet?’

‘Not really. I’ve been working.’

‘Oh yeah. Of course. D’you want to get a takeaway tonight, then?’

A takeaway! It must be a promotion. Mark would never fork out for something that could be made more cheaply at home. It would be an act of insanity. What would be the point? Maybe he’s been asked to lecture in banking and accountancy.

An hour and a bit later, we’ve polished off the wine along with a Murgh Shakoti, a tiger prawn Jalfrezi, a vegetable Sagwalla, two Pilau rices and a Keema nan. I’m so full I can hardly speak. Luckily, Mark doesn’t find speaking quite as hard.

‘So how’s the painting been going today? Any progress?’

I try and think about what I’ve been doing on that damn canvas. I go into such a trance when I’m painting that I often can’t immediately bring to mind any specifics.

‘It’s been OK. Um. I’ve painted over some bits I wasn’t happy with and…’

‘You’ll never guess who I bumped into today?’

I do a quick mental check. It’s difficult. I can’t imagine Mark bumping into anyone. The very idea of Mark bumping into someone smacks of the unexpected, the unpredictable. Randomly bumping into someone is definitely not a Mark thing. He sounds so excited that I have to assume it was some major celebrity. I try to think of who might be hanging around at a loose end in the area between Mark’s college and the tube station.

Kate Moss? George Clooney? Monica Bellucci? Bonio from U2?

‘I don’t know. Who did you bump into?’

Catherine Zeta Jones? Benedict Cumberbatch? Lady Gaga? Rachel Weisz?

‘Only Danny Crump!’

Danny Crump. I knew it had to be someone big, but I hadn’t been expecting Danny Crump.

‘Who’s Danny Crump?’

Mark looks at me as if I’ve just said ‘Who is Tom Cruise?’ or ‘Who were The Beatles?’ or ‘What is The Queen?’

‘Danny! I must have mentioned Danny. We were at college together. We used to go out drinking quite a lot. He was a real laugh. Top bloke. He wasn’t on my course, though. He did town planning.’

Well that’s a relief. Two young students of banking hitting the town at the same time - it’d definitely be overtime for the local police. Mark continues to enthuse about The Crump. I notice he’s not making eye contact with me.

‘I’m sure I must have mentioned him to you. We used to have a great time together. Mind you, I haven’t seen him for maybe six or seven years now, so he’d have been before your time. Old Danny. Old Danny Crump.’

‘What does he do now?’

‘He’s in town planning.’

‘Really.’

‘Anyway, we just bumped into each other in the street and went and had a couple of jars. Just had a chat about the old days and so on. Funny thing is, it was really good luck for him that he bumped into me. He’s had a little bother with something and wondered if I could help him out. He