An Unexpected Find

An Unexpected Find

Lawford decided that it was time to redecorate the back room. It had been shabby when he bought the house and remained so as he put off attending to it week after week. He did not use it for much beyond storage and so it had slipped to the bottom of his list of things to do.

What finally gave him the impetus to get started was the old painting he had hung to hide the lighter patch in the wallpaper caused by a picture removed when the previous occupant had departed. Lawford had hidden the patch with one he had found in the cupboard under the stairs. It was dusty and unimpressive in subject but it was at least a temporary fix for the light patch in the spare room wall.

He took it down and left it on the pasting table while he scraped the old paper off the walls. The paper obliged by falling off in great strips, putting up very little resistance. Clearly, it was as tired as it looked.

Then Lawford prepared the paste and the rolls of new paper. He picked up the painting with the intent of returning it to the cupboard but had one last look at it. In a simple, undecorated frame, it depicted a field of yellow wheat, rather dirty with age, and splashed on to the canvas with such apparent abandon that it seemed to wave slowly as the wind stroked it in the sun. The sky too, washed out blue with darker streaks, was active in the energy with which it had been daubed on to the surface. And here and there in the field were blobs of colour, red, blue and a lighter yellow. Lawford presumed they were flowers.

In the sky, jagged marks in black gave the impression of birds flying from the painter. It was this last that set Lawford’s mind to thinking. It looked uncannily like a van Gogh he vaguely remembered seeing once. Not that he knew a great deal about painting but he had heard stories of work by van Gogh being found in England. For a brief time, the famous painter had lived in London.

It was not a very big painting but then, who knew how large van Goghs were? He looked for a signature. There was nothing that resembled one. He turned the painting over to look at the back. There were some marks scratched into the wood of the frame, top right corner. Closer inspection revealed them to be letters, crudely drawn as if in haste but legible.

They read V.V.G.

Lawford leapt to the inevitable conclusion. After all, it was a fairly unusual combination of initials. And quite a coincidence to be connected with a painting that might be by van Gogh.

“Vincent van Gogh,” he said, only he pronounced it as Gog.

Maybe it was his way of denoting his ownership of the painting and frame together. Unusual, yes, but perhaps he had good reason for departing from convention this one time.

Lawford turned the painting over to look at the picture again. This time it seemed very much like a van Gogh. How had he not noticed it before?

More to the point, how could he find out the truth about it? If he was holding a fortune in his hands, he needed to know. And that meant he needed an expert opinion. And he knew precious few art history experts who could advise him on the matter. None, in fact.

He might have to settle for someone a bit lower down the ladder. There was a little art dealer in town, for instance, which held the occasional exhibition for local artists. Maybe they had someone who could shed some light on the matter.

Lawford resolved to take the painting down there right now and find out what it was worth.

True to his decision, and wallpapering forgotten, Lawford was standing outside the art shop half an hour later. Orton Galleries announced the sign above its display window. A few unexceptional paintings lounged in the window, trying to attract the attention of passersby. Lawford ignored them and walked in with his precious cargo wrapped in a cloth.

There were more paintings and a sculpture or two dotted about the place and, in the corner, a desk behind which a bespectacled man was rising in delight at a new customer.

“Can I be of assistance?” he said.

“I hope so,” replied Lawford. He strode to the desk and placed his parcel in front of the man. “Tell me what you think of this.”

The man looked at it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Just a painting I found in my house. I want to know what you think of it.”

Taking a corner of the cloth in two careful fingers, the man lifted the cloth and folded it back. Then, just as gingerly, as though the cloth might be contaminated, he removed the rest of it until the painting lay there to view.

“Hmm,” he said.

“What d’you think?” asked Lawford.

“Ah,’ said the man.

“Is it any good?”

“Good question.”

“Who d’ya think painted it?”

“Don’t rush me,” answered the man. “Could you turn it over for me?”

Lawford turned it over.

The man bent forward to examine it.

“Ahah,” he said.

Lawford was getting excited. “What, what?” he said “What do you see?”

“It’s as I thought,” replied the man. “See here, these marks in the frame. They spell V.V.G.”

“Yes, I know.” Lawford was in a frenzy of contained excitement.

“That settles it. Definitely no question about it.”

“About what, man? Just tell me who painted it.”

“Fellow named Vernon Valentine Ganley. Local man, I buy some off him occasionally, feel sorry for him, you know, absolutely hopeless however, but easy to recognise. He always signs his stuff on the frame like that.”


House Martell

Word count: 983
For "Game of Thrones"  The North Remembers, Stolen Artifacts Prompt 15
Prompt: Your character is redecorating and takes down a painting. They notice something strange engraved on the back of the frame.