‘Touché,’ said Harry, standing up to shake hands with the surgeon. ‘Thank you. I look forward to seeing you again in January.’
‘No one looks forward to seeing me again,’ said Kirby. ‘But in your case, I consider it a privilege to have been chosen as your surgeon. I may not have read any of your books, but I had just started my first job as a registrar at UCH when you made your speech to the Nobel Prize Committee in Stockholm on behalf of Anatoly Babakov.’ He removed a pen from an inside pocket, held it in the air and said, ‘The pen is mightier than the sword.’
‘I’m both flattered and appalled in equal measure,’ said Harry.
‘Appalled?’ said Kirby, a look of surprise on his face.
‘Flattered that you remember my speech, but appalled that you were a young registrar at the time. Am I that old?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Kirby. ‘And when I’m finished with you, you’ll be good for another twenty years.’
‘What do you think?’ whispered Emma.
‘I can’t pretend it would have been my first choice as Jessie’s entry for the RA School’s gold medal,’ admitted Richard.
‘Nor mine. And to think she could have entered one of her traditional portraits, which would surely have given her a chance of winning.’
‘But it is a portrait, Mama,’ said Sebastian.
‘Seb, it’s a giant condom,’ whispered Emma.
‘It is indeed, but you have to look more closely to see its real significance.’
‘Yes, I must confess I’ve missed its real significance,’ said Emma. ‘Perhaps you’d be kind enough to explain it to me.’
‘It’s Jessie’s comment on mankind,’ said Samantha, coming to Seb’s rescue. ‘Inside the condom is a portrait of modern man.’
‘But that’s a—’
‘Yes,’ said Harry, unable to resist any longer. ‘It’s an erect penis in the place of the man’s brain.’
‘And his ears,’ said Emma.
‘Well done, Mama, I’m glad you worked that one out.’
‘But look more closely at the eyes,’ said Samantha, ‘and you’ll see two images of naked women.’
‘Yes, I can see them, but why is the man’s tongue poking out?’
‘I can’t imagine, Mother,’ said Seb.
‘But at three thousand pounds,’ continued Emma, still unconvinced, ‘will anyone buy it?’
‘I intend to,’ said Seb.
‘That’s very loyal of you, my darling, but where on earth will you hang it?’
‘In the banking hall, so everyone can see it.’
‘Sebastian, it’s a giant condom!’
‘It is indeed, Mother, and I suspect one or two of our more enlightened customers might even recognize it as such.’
‘And no doubt you can also explain the title to me,’ said Emma. ‘Every Seven Seconds?’
Sebastian was saved when a distinguished-looking gentleman appeared by their side.
‘Good evening, minister,’ he said to Emma. ‘May I say how delighted I am to see you and your husband at the RA.’
‘Thank you, Sir Hugh. We wouldn’t have missed it.’
‘Is there a particular reason you interrupted your busy schedule to join us?’
‘My granddaughter,’ said Emma, gesturing towards Every Seven Seconds, unable to hide her embarrassment.
‘You must be very proud,’ said the former president of the RA. ‘It is to her credit that she has never mentioned her distinguished grandparents.’
‘I suspect that if your father is a banker and your grandmother a Tory politician, it’s not something you would want to share with your artistic friends. But then I doubt if she’s ever told you we have two of your watercolours hanging in our home in the country.’
‘I’m flattered,’ said Sir Hugh. ‘But I confess I wish I had been born with your granddaughter’s talent.’
‘That’s kind of you, but can I ask you for your candid opinion of Jessica’s latest work?’
The PPRA took a long look at Every Seven Seconds, before saying, ‘Original, innovative. Stretches the boundaries of one’s imagination. I would suggest it is influenced by Marcel Duchamp.’
‘I agree with you, Sir Hugh,’ said Sebastian, ‘which is precisely the reason I’m going to buy the picture.’
‘I’m afraid it’s already been sold.’
‘Someone’s actually bought it?’ said Emma incredulously.
‘Yes, an American dealer snapped it up as soon as the show opened, and several other customers, like you, have been disappointed to find it had already been sold.’
Emma was speechless.
‘Please, will you excuse me, because it’s time to announce the winner of this year’s gold medal.’ Sir Hugh gave a slight bow before leaving them to walk over to the stage at the far end of the room.
Emma was still speechless when a couple of photographers began taking pictures of her standing beside the painting. A journalist turned a page of his notepad and said, ‘May I ask, minister, what you think of your granddaughter’s portrait?’
‘Original, innovative. Stretches the boundaries of one’s imagination. I would suggest it was influenced by Marcel Duchamp.’