I had been down west, I guess that's across, but whenever I go west it always feels as if I'm going down. I'm on the County of X's Art Committee. We had been given a small amount of money to dish out to some sculptors and our aim was to pick four artists and get them each to come up with a proposal ' a proposal which we didn't have the money to realize.
"What's the point of commissioning these proposals if none of them are going to be realized?" I'd asked Madame Chairman.
"That lies outside of the framework of our assignment," she answered, a serene smile on her upturned face.
"Yeah, but why don't we just pick one proposal and realize it," I'd stubbornly countered.
"Really, Mr Walker," she managed a polite, breathless giggle here, "I've already told you. The whole point of the project is to commission four outlines."

The bone-head could have been me, of course. But driving home, Madam Chairman constantly appeared on the rain-besotted windscreen before me. No matter how fast I worked those wipers in an attempt to erase her image she just kept coming back at me - like some blood-sucking phantom in a vampire movie.
"Grab your coat Sue, let's hit the ten-thirty at the Gloria," I said the moment I set foot in our hallway.
The Gloria is our local art cinema. Susan large-eyed the programme.
"It sounds like a think film," she said.
"Yeah, well ..." I raised my arms and let them fall, helplessly, by my sides.
We went down to The Cat & The Christian instead and had a pint of Kilkenny. Sue massaged some of the tension out of my shoulders and I began to feel a little better.
"Why don't you resign?" she asked.
"It's money in the bank," I replied.
"Then why not use some of that money ' the money you're getting - and realise one of the projects yourself," she said.
She could be quite bright, Sue, when she put her mind to it.
"You know something, I think I will."
At the next meeting I tried to throw a spanner in the works by suggesting that three of the four projects should be video installations. Madam Chairman did not take the suggestion lying down.
"Really, Mr Walker, the idea is that these projects should be realized out-of-doors, in open, public spaces - we want to interact with ordinary, everyday ehm ..."
"People?" I thought I'd help her out with that distasteful little word.
"Exactly!"
"If Madam Chairman would care to consult the proposal document before her, a document she herself I believe was involved in the composition of, she must surely acknowledge that point four allows that each artist, from the outset, is to be given a free hand - there are to be no restrictions."
By the time we had made the four selections - two sculptures, two installations (one video) - Madam Chairman was pretty much sour at me. I knew I wouldn't be coming out west next year.

"Mr Walker," Madame Chairman asked me at the champagne reception when we welcomed the chosen four and toasted their proposals, "this Art Committee you were on in Y, what were you actually selecting? It was art wasn't it, for the Goethe in Paris?"
"Oh, yes, it was art alright."
"Real art?"
"Yes, the seventh, I believe."
"The seventh?"
"Film."
"Film?" the echo came back a little off-key.
I'm afraid I was rather rude. I turned my back on Madam Chairman and headed for the bar. I needed a whisky as ballast for all the champagne. I downed a Bushmills and let out rather a loud expletive.
"I beg your pardon," a high-pitched, though pleasant enough, voice beside me protested.
I turned. It was one of the chosen sculptors.
"I'm sorry, I'm a little drunk. Besides, this," - I waved an arm airily around - "is just a waste of time. They could have used the money spent on this reception to realize one of the projects."
"Well, it's a big night for me," she said, looking a touch injured.
"I know, I didn't mean to be ... look Ms Resmark ..."
"Its miz, not miss!"
"But I said miz ..."
"Well, it sounded like miss to me!"
It could well have, I decided to try another tack.
"Look, why don't we skip the fancy titles and get onto first name terms, what do you reckon? Charlie Walker."
I extended my hand. She took it and shook it firmly. She was a large-boned, young blonde.
"Rebecca Resmark."
I checked that all my fingers were still there.
"You haven't, by any chance, been on some kind of business course have you?" I enquired.
She nodded. She was self-employed, the government had thrown in some money.
"They automatically put you on a course."
"Look, do you want a drink?" I asked.
"No thanks, I'll stick to the champagne."
Madam Chairman spotted Rebecca and started to slowly breeze over, then catching sight of me she suddenly stopped short - abacked - and moved off someplace left.
"Did you say Charlie Walker? But weren't you on the committee?" She looked me over carefully.
"Let's just say, on the outskirts of."
She went over to the bar and ordered a couple of gin & tonics.
"You should never mix champagne and whisky," she said, smiling and shaking her pretty head.
"You're darn right," I agreed.
Her large brown eyes seemed full of warmth when she smiled.
"Cheers!" I toasted, as I took the glass she handed me.
We clinked glasses. Flirted a little. Drank some more gin and tonics, flirted some more, then decided we had to escape the smoke so we headed outside for some fresh air.
"Are you staying at the Astoria as well then?" Rebecca asked ingenuously.
I had intended driving home even though the entire committee, along with some of the sponsors, were being put up by the Council at the best hotel in town. It even had an indoor swimming pool and jacuzzi.
"Yes, I am actually," I said.
"Well," she artfully paused, half-yawning, "I'm pretty bored with the party - I think I'll walk back to the hotel. Care to join me?"
"Sure," I said, carefully taking her glass and placing both it and mine side by side on the terracotta terrace.
Back at the hotel Rebecca and I took a midnight dip before heading up to her room.

I got home, heavily hung-over, late the next afternoon.
"Did you decide whose project you were going to realise then?" Susan asked when she came in from work.
"I think so," I replied.

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...