The Prize by Kim Anderson

Author:Kim Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pantera Press
Published: 2023-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Shaken, Bill needed to get some fresh air. He would go out, but now he wasn’t sure where to go. He replayed in his head James and Joshua’s visit. He found it difficult to believe Joshua had agreed to such a visit. He was surprised by James. It seemed out of character for someone so timid. Had Louisa put him up to it? He suspected so.

Yesterday, Alice had suggested he join her at Wangi where he could get away from the press, take in the sea air. He’d thought about asking Joshua. How stupid. Now he regretted not taking last night’s train. He would not have been at home for their visit, which would have given Joshua more time to contemplate the outrageous nature of the offer. Did he realise what was at stake? It would be impossible for them to go back to before the prize, at least not without some very forthright and confronting conversations. He didn’t want to lose Joshua. This was all Mary Edwards’ doing. Could he not see that? Why hadn’t Joshua called him to say they were coming? Feeling wretched, he tried to put all these questions out of his head. Had he been naïve? What they had could never be public, open, heartfelt. He tried hard not to see it as a betrayal. Joshua needed to manage his parents. He could never have been so open with his own parents, heaven forbid. He accepted that. Joshua, however, was asking him to betray his art and what he truly believed in. That was not worth contemplating; art would offer him a shield, not a dagger. Surely Joshua could have defended him in the name of art. Reassured his parents that he liked the painting, that it was a faithful likeness. That he hoped they would agree that what Bill captured was the essence of his character, his intellect, his humility. All the things Bill loved about him.

He needed to walk, to collect his thoughts. First, he would have to get through the ordeal of the front door, where a throng of journalists with their photographers in tow, were waiting patiently, eager to question him. He wondered how Joshua and his father had managed to avoid them. Descending the stairs at full pace, he pushed the door open onto the street, turning his shoulder to the pack of journalists hovering outside. He forced his way through the barrage of suited young reporters, pencils and pads in hands, shouting questions at him, like a pack of rabid dogs, the flashes of their cameras snapping at him, blinding him as he tried to get away. It seemed as though time had slowed down. He heard each question clearly even when they were being fired at him rapidly, and he imagined this was what it must be like to be accused of a crime.

‘What was the meeting about with Joshua Smith?’

‘Did you agree to sell the painting?’

‘Mr Dobell, is there any truth to the rumour that the gallery

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