French Kissing by Lynne Shelby Page A

person tagging along, not even my oldest friend.
    â€˜You want to spend an evening looking at paintings?’ I asked.
    â€˜Why not? I never went to university like you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a bit of culture.’
    â€˜No, of course it doesn’t, but when we shared a flat I was always asking you to come with me to art exhibitions, and you always said you couldn’t imagine anything more boring.’
    â€˜Did I? I don’t remember.’
    I should just tell her that I don’t want her to come.
    Beth said, ‘I’m going stir-crazy stuck here with the kids. It’d be great to get out of the house – Jonah! Be careful! Oh, no!’
    â€˜What is it?’ I said. ‘Is Jonah OK?’
    â€˜Oh, yes, he’s fine. It’s just that he’s spilt blackcurrant juice all over the living room carpet. What time shall I meet you at the gallery?’
    â€˜Well, Alex is meeting me from work so –’
    â€˜I’ll do the same. Text me the time and Nova Graphic’s address.’ Beth ended the call.
    Nothing like inviting yourself somewhere you’re not wanted, I thought, Then I was overcome with guilt. Beth sounded like she really could do with a break from the demands of motherhood. And it wasn’t as if Alex and I were going on a date. There was no reason why I should feel so possessive towards him.
    At 5.30 sharp, I headed out of the studio and down the stairs to Reception, where I was meeting Alex and Beth. They were both already there – as was Izzy, who had somehow managed to get away from her desk even earlier than I had, and was talking to Alex. She hadn’t mentioned him in almost a week, but my hopes that she was over her unrequited infatuation were completely quashed by the way she was gazing up at him from under her long dark eyelashes. Beth, standing next to Izzy, saw me before the other two, and her face broke into a delighted grin. I noticed that she was wearing make-up for the first time in months, she’d straightened her hair, and she had on a new pair of boots. This night off from her family duties certainly seemed to be a big deal for her. I hoped that she wasn’t going to be disappointed. And that she wouldn’t want to stay out too late, so that I got to spend at least some of the evening alone with Alex.
    â€˜Hi, all,’ I said, as I joined the three of them. ‘You look nice tonight, Beth.’ To Izzy, I added, ‘We’re off to the National Gallery.’
    â€˜I know,’ Izzy said. ‘I’m coming with you. Alexandre invited me.’
    â€˜Great.’ I gave Alex a tight smile. Well that was really going to convince her that he’d no intention of dating her.
    â€˜Izzy tells me that she’s particularly interested in the paintings of the Renaissance,’ Alex said.
    â€˜Oh, me too,’ Beth said. ‘Nothing I enjoy more than a bit of Renaissance.’
    I shot her a look. ‘Let’s get going then, shall we?’
    â€˜And after we’ve done enough looking at pictures,’ Beth said, ‘maybe we could go on to a bar?’
    â€˜Good idea,’ Izzy said.
    So much for my night out with Alex, just the two of us.
    Alex said, ‘So every element of The Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba – the light reflected on the water, the figure of the boy on the quayside shading his face against the brightness – draws your eye to the luminous horizon, where the queen’s ship is about to sail off into the open sea, towards the rising sun.’
    â€˜Yes, I see that now,’ Beth said, staring up at Claude Lorrain’s painting of a seaport in the early morning. ‘Now that you‘ve explained it.’
    â€˜It’s so great to go round a gallery with someone who knows so much about art,’ Izzy said to Alex.
    Did she really have to tell him how wonderful he was every five minutes? I was longing to discuss the