The Garden Of Unearthly Delights - Plot & Excerpts
The dealer had stopped talking, the recorder’s red light flicking off as silence descended over the two men. David Gerrald, of number 16 Cromwell Road, Battersea, aged thirty-eight, freelance journalist and mortgage-shackled, stared at the dealer. Of course he had wanted to do the story. It had been a great chance for him, and the magazine was paying well. But that had been before. Before, when he had thought of the art world and its cohorts as a coven of the privileged, a bastion for the elite . . . an area off-limits to normal people. Naturally he had visited the dealer’s gallery. He’d been somewhat taken aback by the stone columns flanking the entrance, and the expansive window displaying a triptych from the late Middle Ages. School of Bosch. On entering, David had found himself ignored, his awkward wander around the gallery tracked suspiciously by the receptionist and the doorman. Did they think he was going to steal something?
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