Brides of War by June Tate Read Free Book Online

asked.
    ‘Not yet, it’s on my list though.’
    ‘It’s one of my favourite places,’ he told her. ‘Look, I’m free today. Let me take you there. It’s the least I can do for a person who is learning about the city. What do you say?’
    Valerie was surprised by his invitation, but he seemed a decent type and she was feeling alone in a strange place. ‘Yes that would be really kind of you,’ she replied.
    ‘I hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes, it’s a big place.’
    She laughed. ‘Oh, believe me, I’m well prepared. Exploration and heels don’t mix, that I know. In any case, I’m wearing boots.’
    He leant forward with an outstretched hand. ‘Max Brennen.’
    She took his hand and shook it. ‘Valerie Johnson.’
     
    The museum was a large imposing building. Inside the entrance there was a huge hall with a grand staircase. Here was a plan of the interior and the rooms showing paintings from all over the world. Valerie was thrilled. They started on the European artists then went on to look at the Dutch painters. They sat on a bench looking at a painting by Rembrandt. She was surprised at how knowledgeable Max was but when she questioned him about it he just grinned.
    ‘In my youth I went to art school. I wanted to be another Goya or Constable, but I wasn’t really good enough, so now I work in advertising for my sins.’
    ‘Oh that’s so sad. Do you still paint?’
    ‘Oh yes, painting is my life!’
     
    Several hours later, they parted. Valerie thanked him profusely for his time and company. He took out a business card and gave it to her.
    ‘Call me sometime when you’re at a loose end in your explorations and maybe I can show you something else. I’ve really enjoyed today. Seeing things through different eyes is always exhilarating.’ He shook her hand again. ‘I’ve really enjoyed your company Valerie, I hope we meet again,’ and he walked away.
    She watched his retreating figure. He was tall and held himself well as he strode down the street, winding a long scarf round his neck. She had so enjoyed the day but wondered if Ross would be angry that she’d gone off with a stranger, not the safest thing to do anywhere. She decided not to mention it and put the business card in her wallet, called a cab and went home to rest her aching feet.
     
    Two weeks later, over breakfast, Ross told her that he’d booked a table for dinner that evening and after they’d be going to an exhibition of local artists.
    ‘I know how much you enjoy art,’ he said. ‘These evenings are always interesting. I’ve been to several and I have been known to buy the odd picture sometimes.’
    ‘Really? Where are they?’ she asked knowing there were none in the apartment.
    ‘I have them on the walls in my office,’ he said.
    ‘We could do with something in the living room,’ she said. ‘The walls look a bit bare. I’ve looked at prints in the stores but haven’t seen anything I like.’
    ‘Perhaps we’ll see something tonight.’ He kissed her and said, ‘I’ll be home just after five.’
     
    The art gallery was in the Village, so they dined nearby in a French restaurant before making their way there. It was well lit with the walls covered with paintings and a label beneath each one, giving the title of the picture, the artist and the price.
    They’d left their coats with a young girl when they entered who’d also handed them a glass of champagne, and now the two of them were studying the works before them, mingling with many others, doing the same. It was fascinating seeing the different styles, but the talent that was on the wall impressed Valerie. But it was one sizeable painting in particular that took her eye. It was of a small bridge in Central Park at dusk, with the skyscrapers in the background. What impressed her was the use of light in the painting. It was remarkable and she stared at it for a long time.
    Ross, who had been looking at another, joined her.
    ‘This painting is absolutely