Page 47 - The Letter By Ann Newhouse

‘If you could take my shift we can both have the night off! I hope you can oblige, I would be very grateful’.
I felt numb and a little dazed.
I realized I hadn’t said anything for a few minutes when I heard Rex calling me. ‘Amber? Amber? Are you there?’
‘Yes! Yes! Sorry Rex I let the coffee percolator spill over’, I lied.
I tossed and turned all night. I was dreaming that I was out walking, it was beautiful sunny afternoon and I was admiring the surrounding countryside when suddenly Rex was there, naked! Next thing I know my easel was in front of me and I was painting him in all his glory. Suddenly Tony appeared, angrily accusing me of having an affair.
I woke in a panic, sweating. I glanced at my clock on the bedside table, it was 6:30am, the cock had not crowed yet.
After I had showered and dressed I gathered up about half a dozen of my paintings to bring to the gallery, mostly scenes of Dublin city and its suburbs. I grabbed the contract as it was coming out of the printer. It had been emailed to me last night, quickly glancing over it I noted it stated that paintings would be held for three months and if they had not sold by then they would need to be replaced with new ones. The gallery would be taking 20% on each sale.
I needed to sell these paintings in particular I needed to move on. Every time I looked at them I felt such an overwhelming sadness. But even at that I recognised that I couldn’t quite part with a few of them just yet. There was the H’penny Bridge painting and one of Trinity College, these had memories I wasn’t ready to let go right now.