The Art of Dying by Vena Cork

Author:Vena Cork [Cork, Vena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2020-05-20T22:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Four

Later I take Caroline for a walk round Consort Park, hoping fresh air and exercise will do her good. The heatwave shows no sign of abating and the park’s full of people enjoying the sunshine. Pink and brown bodies in brightly coloured clothes stretch out on the grass. Games of cricket and rounders are in full swing, and the shrieks and splashes from the paddling pool and children’s playground compete with the satisfying plop of ball on racket coming from the tennis courts.

‘Where are you going to put the sculpture?’

I hadn’t planned to show her the proposed site of the new Consort Park sculpture, in case it reminded her of Steve. However, now she’s asked, I take her into the secluded flower garden and point out the spot.

‘Perfect,’ she says wistfully. ‘Steve would have loved one of his pieces to have a home here.’

I suddenly know what I must do. I say, ‘It still could.’

Caroline scans my face. ‘What do you mean? You want Steve’s work?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

For the first time in days Caro looks herself again.

‘That’s wonderful,’ she says. ‘Wonderful. I know it’s a memorial for the woman who donated the money, but it would be Steve’s memorial too, wouldn’t it.’

‘Definitely.’

Joy blazes from her face.

‘Which piece are you interested in?’

Andromeda, of course, but Caro’s even less likely to part with that one now. I won’t even ask.

‘Marble One.’

Though not in the same league as Andromeda, the undulating pink form will look very good in its niche surrounded by clematis and roses.

‘Ah, just the person I need to see. Don’t whine, Fergus, or Mummy will have to renegotiate our bedtime agreement.’

A Valkyrie strides towards us, in Birkenstock sandals, wearing a long flowing orange garment which matches her long flowing orange hair. The sun has caught her large nose which is peeling profusely.

PG Tips.

She’s surrounded by a tribe of ginger children with faces smeared in snot and dirt, who squabble and shout and roll around on the grass, punching each other.

Not a person to meet if you’re feeling fragile.

‘About the short list,’ she says. ‘September’s coming up fast, and the Committee’s anxious to know that everything’s on track. We’ve asked Ken Livingstone to inaugurate it but he hasn’t responded. Not to worry — I know several celebs who’d love to do it.’

‘Actually, Pru, there is no short list.’

‘No short list? But I distinctly said I wanted to see the main contenders.’

‘There was only one. Steve Pyne.’

‘Who?’

‘Steve Pyne.’

‘Look, Rosa, we don’t want some local yokel that no one’s heard of. We want to put Consort Park on the cultural map.’

‘In fact, Pru, Steve Pyne was one of the country’s most talented young artists. I say “was” because he died last week. Consort Park’s very fortunate to be acquiring one of his last works. Of course, if you’d rather I went for someone else …’

‘No!’ Pru’s eyes popped with excitement. ‘He sounds just the job. Nothing like a tragedy to attract publicity.’

I can’t help myself. ‘Did I mention that Caroline was Steve’s fiancée?’

For once in her life Pru is speechless.

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