Guns in the Gallery

‘Have you always had that kind of reaction against your work?’

‘Usually.’

‘And does it ever change?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Do you ever come round to thinking what you’ve done’s rather good again? Do you recapture the feeling you had while you were actually painting it?’

Fennel Whittaker sighed. ‘Has happened. There’s some stuff I did during my first year at art college . . . before I . . . you know . . . I felt pleased with it . . . and one of my tutors, Ingrid, who I really rated, she thought it was great. Yes, some of that’s bloody good.’

‘Doesn’t knowing that cheer you up?’

‘No. It makes me feel worse, if anything.’

‘Why?

‘Because I look back and I think: God, the girl who did that had a lot of talent! Unlike the girl who’s looking back at the stuff. Whatever it was I may once have had, I think I’ve lost it.’

‘You do know that a lot of creative artists suffer from bipolar tendencies?’

‘Yes. It doesn’t help much to know that, though. Doesn’t stop me thinking that my work’s crap . . . along with everything else in my life.’

Jude was silent for a moment, trying to decide what therapies she should use for the rest of the session. For the time being, though, she reckoned talking was doing Fennel as much good as anything else would.

‘Is there anything specific that’s made you feel down at the moment?’

‘There’s never anything specific. It’s just . . . everything.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I know I’ve asked you this before, but are you sure there wasn’t something in your past, something that happened that triggered the depression?’

‘And as I’ve answered before, no. What are you hoping I’ll say – that my father interfered with me when I was a child?’

‘I wasn’t suggesting that.’

‘I know you weren’t. Anyway, the answer to your question remains the same as when you last asked it. I think the depression is just something knotted into my DNA. A dodgy gene, like . . . I don’t know . . . being born with red hair perhaps?’

‘And there’s nothing that’s happened in the last few days that’s got you particularly depressed?’

Fennel looked up, alert to a slight change in Jude’s tone. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Just when we were at Butterwyke House and you and Chervil came in, it sounded as if you’d been having a row.’

‘Not a row. It’s just the way sisters are, always sniping at each other.’

‘When Chervil was showing us round Walden, she seemed a little bitter about you.’

‘What? Complaining I was monopolizing our parents’ attention?’

‘Yes.’

‘Huh. I don’t know where she gets that from. If she genuinely thinks I’m going through what I go through simply to score points over her, then I wish she could have a couple of days of depression, so she knows what it feels like.’

‘And she doesn’t?’

‘No. Chervil’s never had a negative thought in her whole life. Eternal Bloody Pollyanna. Chervil’s fine. Never been any problems with her. She’s always been our parents’ golden girl. Always done everything right.’

‘What about relationships?’

‘She’s never lacked for male attention.’

‘That wasn’t what I asked. Do her relationships last?’

‘Till she gets bored with them, yes. Chervil never risks getting hurt. When a relationship is ending, she always sees to it that she’s the dumper rather than the dumpee. And she never dumps a boyfriend till she’s got another one lined up. Chervil hasn’t spent more than a week without a boyfriend since she was fourteen.’

‘Whereas you . . .?’

The bark of cynical laughter which greeted this enquiry was more eloquent than words would have been.

‘My sister’s guiding principle is: love ’em and leave ’em. Chervil rather prides herself on being a femme fatale.’

‘And what about her current relationship? With Giles Green.’

‘Oh, you heard about that. She seems quite keen at the moment. Early days, though. Let’s see whether he’s still on the scene in a couple of months.’

Jude was interested in this display of sibling rivalry. Chervil had said it was Fennel who monopolized their parents’ attention. Fennel effectively described her sister as their favourite. Something to be explored at some point, perhaps. But not in this session, Jude decided.

‘Going back to your relationships, Fennel . . .?’

‘Huh.’ The girl let out a long, cynical sigh. ‘How many ways do you know of saying the word “disaster”?’