With a flutter of anticipation and elation at the offerings to be made, my sister re-entered the familiar embrace of our quaint township. Residing in a snug caravan nearest to the recently established Herring Bridge, she perused the epistles of a gentleman most eager to deliberate upon a matter of import. The correspondence bore the following missive;
Dear Miss Coleman,
Mr Samuel Henderson, my esteemed colleague and dear cohabitant of many years, has been kind enough to furnish me with your particulars. You mayhap recalled his name from a few moons ago, when you had graciously assisted him in providing feedback regarding the pressing issue of unlawful immigration, to which he expresses his profound gratitude. However, for my own part, the dilemma which occupies my thoughts is not as widespread, yet carries an air of significance for my establishment.
I am engaged with various associates at the recently inaugurated PrimeYarc Gallery. Therein, we strive to ensure that every painting and artefact is bestowed with the utmost care, meticulousness, and safeguarding. Alas, as we approached the fourteenth of this month, an unpardonable act had been transpired.
I beseech for you to grace the gallery with your utmost presence in three days hence at a quarter to the tenth hour of the morn, to deliberate on the matter with greater nuance.
I kindly implore that you revisit this missive should you be able to attend, and I eagerly anticipate the delightful prospect of our meeting and converse.
With best regards,
Mr Charles Henderson nee Miller
And thus it came to pass, that she carried her satchel over her shoulder, and traversed from the cosy confines of her transient lodgings. She took the same path of our youthful days, whilst becoming ever watchful for the lurking perils of mischief that might have impeded her journey.
Mara is deemed most comely in mine eyes, as well as in the eyes of many others. With her long rich chestnut hair; normally styled in a low bun; and her inquisitive blue eyes that ever reflect her curious nature, she captivates the beholder. She typically favours the attire of a printed shirt and well-fitted trousers, as was her choice on this day. Yet, on occasion, she likes to indulge in the graceful elegance of a gown for special events, but such instances are a rarity. Her figure appears neither alarmingly slender nor overly ample, residing comfortably in the middle ground. This is a source of pride for her, for she did endure a state of being undernourished in her youth, as my memories do serve me.
I, on the contrary, possess tresses of fair blonde, a gift from my late mother, whilst my bold emerald eyes are a legacy from my father. I was born in a state of ordinary circumstances; however, a car mishap upon my ninth birthday rendered me unable to move my lower limbs without aid. Mara has been nothing more but splendid in her attentions to my needs, steadfastly striving to assist me whilst remaining mindful of her own aspirations. I am eternally beholden to her.
Let us return to the narrative in motion, shall we? It is her tale, after all.
Traversing the bridge, along the lengthy wharf that continues to host the noble fishing trade, as one turns the corner past the splendid St. George's Theatre, further along past the waning establishments of the culinary quick-service, and into the grand indoor market that houses the esteemed gallery.
Upon her arrival, she was greeted by a gentleman of considerable stature, stationed at the threshold of the gallery. The gentleman was attired in an ensemble of black, consisting of a snug, unadorned shirt and trousers of comfort, complemented by a matching cap inscribed with the word SECURITY. His arms were crossed over his chest, as though he were a figure whom none would dare to provoke. Not a single smile could be discerned upon him.
As she entered, she discerned, from the corner of her eye, the man fixing upon her each movement with a gaze most piercing. She allowed herself to take yet another step towards him when, with a sudden jolt, his right hand extended from his side, effectively obstructing her passage.
"What are your intentions regarding your entry here?" inquired the gentleman with a forthrightness that bore an edge of severity in his tone and countenance. "At present, it is not accessible to the public."
Just as she was about to proffer a response, she was beckoned affectionately by the very gentleman who presumably had dispatched the telegram, hastening towards the entrance with a light step.
This gentleman was attired in a suit of a delicate brown hue, complemented by a shirt of a soft peach tint beneath. His hair, a shade of brown, bore the lightness of numerous dyes applied over various periods. Whilst his visage, once pristine and shaven, now exhibited the signs of stubble and scars of acne peering through. In juxtaposition to the guard, he was of lesser stature and leaner in form.
"Miss Coleman!" The gentleman came to a sudden halt, endeavouring to compose himself where he continued. "I cannot articulate my pleasure to be in your company again."
The gentleman tasked with security, stationed beside her, regarded the other with a look of bewilderment etching his countenance. Perceiving the source of his companion's confusion, the well-mannered gentleman reassured him, "Do not interrogate this lady. She is here to render assistance. I summoned her for a matter of importance."
Mara cast her gaze upon the security gentleman, seeking his response in this delicate matter. He beheld the two with a countenance betraying his discomposure, whilst she bestowed upon him a gentle smile, gracefully entering the premises of concern.
She made her entrance into the premises, striding with admirable confidence, whilst the considerate gentleman trailed behind, having courteously permitted her to pass through the doors first. Observing her surroundings with keen interest, the gentleman guided her towards the rear of the gallery, wherein there resided an array of wooden seating, to which she gracefully proceeded to take her seat.
"I will return in just a moment as I venture and find my colleague."
He did make a turn and departed through a nearby portal to her left, fashioned of clouded glass. The entrance to a distinct compartment bore a notice proclaiming the following;
STAFF ONLY. Think not to enter under any circumstance lest you find yourself removed from the entire establishment.
She examined this placard with great intensity, taking note of myriad details from that singular clue. She visualised no blemishes, tears, or creases despite its fabrication from a delicate paper. Thus, suggesting regular maintenance, which aligns with the pristine condition of the gallery Or perhaps it had but recently been affixed for display. However, this cannot be the truth, for no members of the public have been permitted entry to the premises for some time.
At length, the staff door calmly swung open to reveal the same gentleman with whom she had previously conversed, now accompanied by another personage of amiable disposition.
This gentleman, when compared to his colleague, possessed a considerable abundance of his natural golden hair upon his person. This was most prominently displayed upon the crown of his head, and his pronounced sideburns. He had opted for a dark blue suit, harmoniously paired with a delicate light blue shirt beneath. The sleeves of his blazer were rather oversized, resulting in them having been rolled up to ensure his hands were visible.
Upon catching sight of her, the newly arrived gentleman leapt with glee, hurrying forth to extend his hand in cordial greeting. She rose to meet at his level, reciprocating his kindness with the utmost grace, albeit with somewhat less fervour.
"Allow me to introduce Mr. Charles Henderson," quoted the first gentleman with an air of civility. "He has been most apprised of our recent engagement with the bill and is most desirous of making your acquaintance."
"I am most grateful, Charles," responded Mara, redirecting her gaze towards him, who still clutched her hand in a gentlemanly manner. Upon this realisation, he withdrew his grasp as though it were nothing of consequence.
"It is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Coleman. You are destined to be greatly astonished by the tidings we are eager to impart, aren't we, my dearest?" He cast a glance towards Charles.
Her countenance betrayed a fleeting moment of recognition. "Quite so, my love."
She, accompanied by the two gentlemen took their seats within the parlour, both gentlemen positioning themselves either side, ensuring ample space that she might not feel overwhelmed.
"Enlighten me on all that you know," she commenced. Charles inclined his head toward his compatriot for a rejoinder, where Samuel began to elucidate whilst Mara procured a sheet of paper and ink pen from her satchel.
"It all transpired three days hence, coinciding with the gallery's inaugural week. As I have previously articulated, as diligent stewards of the gallery, we do labour to maintain the premises in a state of tidiness, decorum, and with utmost vigilance regarding security. The rationale for such endeavours is to ensure an unparalleled experience for all who grace us with their presence, whilst simultaneously safeguarding against any impropriety."
Samuel did pause momentarily, and withdrew a handkerchief from the pocket of his blazer to expel the contents of his nose. Subsequently, he returned the handkerchief to his pocket, while she completed transcribing the utterances thus far. She regarded him, seemingly in anticipation of his further discourse. Instead, it was Charles who, with notable trepidation, spoke forth.
"We had but recently concluded our evening's engagements and extended our farewells to the last lingering patrons, with the assistance of Phillip, our diligent watchman, whom you have perchance encountered upon your arrival. He awaited the departure of the staff and ensured that each and every individual had exited the building. He did meticulously inspect every section and chamber, including the staff quarters. Once assured, he secured the gallery doors and made his own departure homeward."
"Thank you," she commenced, whilst diligently inscribing all that she could with great haste. "Pray, proceed, any amongst you." She gestured towards the two gentlemen in her company with the tip of her pen.
Charles resumed; "When we did arrive at the gallery at the hour of seven in the morn, our gaze was rather captivated by the entirety of the wall that stands behind you as it presently does. Utterly devoid of any adornment."
She turned her visage from the sight of the wall that lay behind her. Verily, it was indeed entirely empty of any exhibits when compared to the surrounding gallery. Yet, something else ensnared her attention.
"These paintings were affixed with metal nails, am I correct?"
"Verily, they were," replied Samuel. "What compels your inquiry?"
"It appears these burglars have gone to great lengths, discarding the very nails from the wall as well." She then positioned herself to scrutinize the wall with greater care. The two gentlemen remained stationary, not daring to stir until bidden. "Enlighten me as to the subjects of these paintings."
"The one to your left depicts the renowned hillscape of Garrowby Hill, rendered by David Hockney," Samuel began.
"Moreover, the adjacent space to your right once displayed an assortment of blossoms by Andy Warhol," Charles finished.
With great haste, she returned to her seat, resuming her diligent recording of the new information bestowed upon her, in conjunction with the earlier observations concerning the inscription upon the portal. From the periphery of her vision, she discerned Samuel casting a glance towards his companion concerning a certain matter. "Tell me, gentlemen. Is there anything else, or may I proceed with the particulars I possess at this time?"
"There does exist yet another matter, Miss Coleman," stated Charles. Mara nodded in affirmation, and he proceeded with trepidation. "Sam, might you venture into the adjacent chamber and retrieve them for me?" Samuel made haste towards the staff room, ensuring that the door behind remained ajar.
"When we are first gifted our esteemed artworks, each comes already framed, thereby necessitating only our effort to clean and display them. Alas, upon the removal of the two pieces, there remained an item which was left unattended."
At the appointed moment, Samuel returned bearing two picture frames, one the size of an A4 sheet of paper, whilst the other seemed to be of a size tenfold greater. "The frames!" she exclaimed.
"Precisely," Charles responded. "What is your opinion on this, Miss Coleman?"
"As you have so rightly proclaimed, gentlemen," she did respond, her gaze wholly captivated by the frames before her. "I am indeed most astounded by this turn of events. It would bring me joy to assist you both and ensure the return of these significant paintings." With great enthusiasm, she arose from her seated position, tore a fragment from her paper, inscribed a note, and presented it to Charles whilst Samuel restored the frames back into the staff room. "Here lies the address of my lodgings. I shall devise a plan of action and communicate with you regarding this matter promptly."
"Thank you ever so much, Miss Coleman," Charles exclaimed most cheerfully as she deposited her pen and parchment once more into her satchel. "We sincerely hope that whatever your design may entail culminates in resounding success."
"We are most grateful," Samuel replied whilst returning to accompany Charles in escorting her from the edifice.
"I anticipate the pleasure of your company soon," she concluded. "And I strongly advise that you keep the premises secure until further clarity is attained." The two gentlemen took their leave of Mara with a courteous handshake and smile, before proceeding to open the doors for her exit from the establishment.
Thus, she departed the indoor market with her satchel resuming its place upon her shoulder. She moreover retraced her steps to the caravan, where she indulged in a modest repast and a well-deserved sleep before the labours of the evening commenced.