pulled out a sketchbook and started casually flicking through it, not ready to look into his face.
Her fingers paused at one particular drawing and she ran the pad of her forefinger down the edge of the smooth paper she liked to work on.
‘Have you ever heard of the studio system? No? The old masters used to train young artists as a way of making some extra income. They all did it. The more famous you were, the more parents were prepared to pay to have their children study with you and work in the studio.’
She lifted her chin and gestured towards the next room where the art supplies were kept. ‘I remember a time when there were always three or four art students from the local college hanging around, making tea and preparing canvases and now and again my dad would let them make sketches on a sitting with a client. So he could critique their work. Show them how to develop the idea into a painting. Maybe even work on a background for one of his portraits. If they were very good.’
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her knuckle.
‘Fame is a fickle thing, Scott. One day everyone loves your work and the next? You’re history and nobody wants to hire you because the exciting new style is all the fashion and who needs their portrait painted? That’s why cameras were invented.’
She felt his body lift from the bed as the hard springs squeaked in protest and suddenly Scott was sitting on the floor next to her, his back so tall against the divan.
His left hand slid sideways and as she glanced down all the weight and strength that Scott possessed seemed to flow through those fingers as they meshed with hers.
‘He resented you for leaving him.’
She nodded. ‘I was his last apprentice. The student who was going to make her mark in the world and show the art establishment just how powerful fine painting could be. I was going to lead the next generation of Baldoni portrait painters proudly forward.’
Her head dropped and she picked up Amy’s portrait with her left hand. ‘I painted this when I was seventeen. By then I was working every night after school in the studio and doing nearly all of my dad’s canvases. My weekends and every day of the school holidays were spent in that studio.’
She shook her head and blew out hard. ‘I was his apprentice so it made sense for me to be there for the sittings so that I could paint the backgrounds and clothing on his portraits. He always worked on the fine detail. Afterwards. But as I got older and he got more disillusioned and depressed about how much photography was taking over, I found that he was leaving me to work on the few commissions that were coming in.’
Scott breathed in through his nose. ‘You were doing the work. Weren’t you? You were painting those amazing portraits and he was passing them off as his work. Oh, Toni.’
His fingers squeezed hers for one last time then slid away and moved around her waist so that he could draw her to him.
‘It didn’t feel like that,’ she replied and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I loved the work and wanted to learn everything I could. This was my real education. School work was not important in the least. Not like it was to Amy.’ She chuckled deep in her throat. ‘It was a bit of a shock finding out that we had a scientist in the family. Her idea of drawing was a flow chart and computer spreadsheets.’ Then she swallowed down a lump of guilt and regret. ‘But of course that put even more pressure on me to fly the flag for the family and carry on my legacy. So when I announced that I was moving to photography...it hit them hard. So very hard.’
‘What did you do?’
‘What could I do? For a while they did everything they could to try and make me change my mind. That I was making a huge mistake and throwing away my career and that people would start commissioning portraits again. I just had to carry on and learn my craft and be patient and it would all work out.’
She glanced quickly over one shoulder towards Scott, who was breathing hard and fast on to the top of her head.
‘Ever wondered what proud artists do when they don’t have any work coming in? They borrow on the only real asset they have left. This house must have been mortgaged and re-mortgaged four times. A commission comes in, they pay some of the loan off, then the money runs out and they borrow again and...I learnt the hard way that putting your home at risk to pay the gas bill is a stressful way to live.’
‘Your family? Other relatives? Couldn’t they help out?’
‘Oh, no. My father was a stubborn man and he would never have contacted his Italian side of the family. A Baldoni would never sink so low. So he dropped his prices and offered to paint children and local people. Said that it was his way of being generous.’
She chuckled and sniffed. ‘They needed me to work and work hard to create commercial pictures they could sell quickly to bring in some income. And that is what I did. Nights and weekends. There are children around here with a genuine Baldoni portrait on their walls!’
‘Did you sign them?’
‘Of course I did. A. Baldoni. They didn’t know that it was an Antonia Baldoni and not an Aldo Baldoni work they were buying—why should they? Everyone called me Toni. The local mayor would have been very upset if he knew. I think he is still bragging about that painting to every visitor to his official office.’
She wiped away one tear and whispered, ‘Very upset. Seeing it was the last one that my father claimed to have painted before he died. It’s his claim to fame.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘A train crash in Italy. It was June. They had been invited to a family reunion and scraped together the rail fare with some sort of excuse about them hating flying. It was...brutal to lose them both at the same time. Horrible, really. I was just about to leave school...’
Her eyebrows squeezed together tight. ‘And that was the end of my hopes and dreams. How could I go waltzing off to my dream course in New York to study photography when I had a sister to take care of? So I stayed in London and went to college when Amy was at school and did the best that I could with grants and loans. And we worked it out. The two of us together. I got a job with a media company which meant that I could stay in London as much as possible. It was fine. Until I got a call from a certain Freya Elstrom.’
‘My sister is a well-known troublemaker.’
Toni nodded. ‘I thought that I was ready to put all of the painting behind me. Amy and I spent Christmas sorting through so much rubbish and clutter so I could get the house ready to decorate and rent out. The only room I didn’t touch was the studio.’
She flashed Scott a half smile. ‘The plan was to donate the unused canvases and equipment to the local school. Amy’s art teacher would have taken everything if she had the chance. But somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You were my excuse.’
‘I like to be useful.’ Scott smiled back.
‘Amy is no fool. She saw through my little pretence straight away so I convinced her that this was going to be my last portrait. Ever. One more painting and I would be done. End of an era. But then I met you. And my world has never been the same since.’
Her hand swept out, her eyes hot and fierce, and she tapped the heel of her hand against the hard planes of his chest. ‘I blame you for everything, Scott Elstrom. All of
