Chapters (49)
- Cover
- Praise for Robert Thorogood
- About the Author
- Also by Robert Thorogood
- Note to Readers
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Acknowledgements
- Extract
- Prologue
- About the Publisher
Judith looked at Suzie, knowing that the ‘two blocks of colour next to each other’ was a very good description of the work of art that the intruder into Stefan’s house had stolen the frame from. But Judith could see that Suzie didn’t pick up on the connection. Of course she didn’t, Judith realised, Suzie hadn’t been with her, Becks and Tanika. But was this an important link? The sort of art that was the cause of the break-in was also the sort of art that Elliot liked to paint? Or was it a coincidence? After all, anyone learning to paint in the late twentieth century, as Elliot had, would no doubt paint like a painter from the late twentieth century.
‘Anyway,’ Fred said, ‘there came a point, after a couple of years, where Elliot realised he wanted to give up the business and have a go at being a professional artist. So he applied to the Slade School of Art, and guess what? He got in. It’s like the best art school in the country, and Elliot had got a place. An amazing achievement. But get this, his dad said no. Again. Elliot’s painting was like his rowing, he told him. Just a hobby. No one made any money as an artist, the only money to be made was in selling the stuff. So he wouldn’t give him the money to go to art school. It set Elliot back.’
‘I bet it did,’ Judith said.
‘And it made him resentful. Because his dad swore that if Elliot walked away from the business, he wouldn’t be allowed back. It was stay and help him run the auction house, or leave.’
‘Wow,’ Judith said.
‘I know,’ Fred agreed. ‘So Elliot let his place at the art school go and stayed at the auction house. And then, when his dad got ill, he became chairman. I was managing director by then. But Elliot’s heart wasn’t in his work if I’m honest. He just didn’t want to be there. And then his dad died. A heart attack on the golf course, of all things. Elliot couldn’t wait to get out of the business. He reapplied to art school. He didn’t get into the Slade this time, but he got into a good enough school in Reading. And he left the business.’
‘Was this in 1988?’
‘That’s right.’
‘When you became chairman?’