Monday, July 07, 2008
Felicia growled at the crowded wall and the three pieces of work still in her hand. How exactly were these supposed to fit? The piece of art had been hailed in London as avant-garde but when the three crates arrived there were no instructions on assembly. She had the catalogue from the Gordon Myres Gallery on Upper Cork Street but frankly it was little help. She had only managed to discern the positions of twenty-seven of the fifty-three pieces from glimpses of their neighbours.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Mrs. Prendergast took one look at the wall. “It’s a load of tosh,” she said, her pithy comment hanging in the air long after the ghost had faded through the wall to haunt the tea shop next door.
Felicia nodded. “You’re probably right,” she said aloud. She tucked the three pieces back into the crate and wheeled it back to the store room. If anyone noticed the difference, she and the Basement Gallery would make a mint on the publicity.