– For now, our gallery is busy with Najada Olivecka's exhibition. Fathers and children. Are you familiar with her work?

– You bet! As far as I know, she's recognised as the most influential photographer in Eastern Europe.

– Her exhibition ends in a fortnight. It'll take about a week to organise yours.

– That's a three-week wait. That's not so bad!

– But I need to show your work to our sponsor. He'll have the final say," Mr. Attick said suddenly.

I grinned. Shit. It's always like this – just when you're excited, your joy is killed with just one sentence.

– Who's your sponsor? – I asked. – The same one who sponsors Najada Olivecka? Then he has excellent taste. By the way, can you tell me where I can meet Najada herself… – And at that moment my smartphone rang loudly in my purse. – Damn, I'm sorry. – I took the smartphone out of my bag. – I'll just be a minute, it's an important call.

– Don't trouble yourself, Miss Mroczek," Mr. Attick smiled benignly.

I smiled back and went out into the corridor.

– Yes, Mum, hi," I said quietly into the phone. – I'm busy right now, is it an emergency?

– Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. It's just that you haven't been calling, and I want to know how my girl is doing.

– Your girl's business couldn't be better. I'm in London and the editor-in-chief of Colour world wants to put on an exhibition of my work! – I said with a note of happiness in my voice.

– Oh, that's great! Congratulations! When? Me and my dad will definitely fly down for the opening!

– That's great. But let's talk later. I'll call you back when I'm free.

– Yes, of course. But that's great news! Congratulations.

– Thank you. I'll call you later.

– Yeah. Kisses.

I smiled. No doubt Mum would be calling all the relatives now.

Back in Mr. Attick's office, I found the latter drafting the contract.

– I've called our sponsor. He'll be here in a couple of hours to look at your work. – Mr. Attick smiled broadly. – 'But between you and me, Miss Mroczek, I'm absolutely certain of a positive decision.

– That would be delightful," I smiled too, still not happy that my work needed some mortal's approval.

– So, if you don't mind, I'll ask you to leave your pictures until this evening, and at six o'clock you can pick them up.

– Well, if those are your sponsor's terms, then of course I will come back for them later.

– I promise in return that all your thirty pictures will be safe and sound. And naturally I would be pleased and pleased to co-operate with you, Miss Mroczek.

We shook hands, and Mr. Attick suddenly smiled confusedly.

– Oh, please forgive my oversight! I should have ordered coffee or tea for you …

– No, I'm not cold, believe me," I hastened to interrupt him.

He was gentlemanly enough to assume that the coldness of my hands was, however trivial, a matter of coldness.

A nice mortal, I'll give you that. Not many of them.

– Goodbye, Mr. Attick, I'll be back at six. – I picked up my bag and woollen cardigan and headed for the door.

– See you tonight, Miss Mroczek.

I had a three-hour wait ahead of me, and I didn't feel like going back to the hotel. I caught a taxi and went to Najada Olivecka's exhibition. After breathing in the aroma of reportage photography, which I would call "social" as this Moldovan photographer's work reflected everyday life and generational conflict, and imagining exactly how I would design my exhibition, I returned to the Colour world office to find out my verdict.

– Your work was to his liking. Congratulations. – Mr. Attick smiled, but I could see that he was clearly hiding something, and it was something that made him mentally uncomfortable.

– Well, I'm glad. So it's time to sign the contract? – I asked. – But there's something troubling about you. Your sponsor must have had some questions about my work.

My bluntness didn't embarrass Bernard. Of course he did – he'd been working at the magazine for twenty-seven years, as editor-in-chief, and had seen a lot.

– No, everything went smoothly. He really liked your work. That's true. But he'll only agree to organise your exhibition on one small, I'd say insignificant condition.

– What condition? – I frowned.

– He wants to buy one of your works on the condition that you never publish it anywhere else. All options, all files.

– Hmm, that's an interesting condition! – I grinned. It flattered me. – Did he like my work that much?

– When he got to this picture, he looked at it for about three minutes. Usually, he looks at each work in ten seconds.