Supernal

Epilogue

Six Months Later

Pre-Auction Viewing at Christie's in Moscow

Sergey Melnik took another glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and regarded the attendees with satisfaction. He recognized a few of them. One was a high-ranking member of the State Duma here in Moscow. A couple of famous European actors were present with their latest partners. He had no doubt that most of the anonymous men and women, dressed in the latest expensive fashions, were extremely wealthy oligarchs seeking outlets for their vast wealth.

The private viewing of his son's paintings and drawings had attracted worldwide attention, but the auction was by invitation only. The pre-sale estimates for Sasha Melnik's works were astronomical and Christie's had limited the sale to serious art collectors they knew could afford the prices.

After Sasha's return from America, he had shot to fame. He had been hailed as 'the modern Leonardo' by the press, and it was all because of one painting, dubbed 'the new Mona Lisa'.

It had been one of the first oil paintings Sasha had produced after abandoning his sketch pads and pencils. When he came back from the Mayo Clinic his sketch pads had been covered with drawings of the same woman, but at home, he had repeatedly asked for paints. He had thrown frequent meltdowns until Anna had bought him a set. After that, he stayed in his room, sometimes painting all night and falling asleep exhausted next to the easel Sergey made for him.

When Sergey had first set eyes on 'the new Mona Lisa' he realized that Sasha had known he couldn't capture the essence of the woman's character with a mere pencil. The paints had brought her to life. She glowed with a mixture of innocence and sensuality that defied description.

That set of paints was the best few roubles Anna had ever spent, Sergey reflected. The tests at the clinic may not have produced the results Anna had hoped for, but their new wealth and status meant they could adopt as many babies as his wife wanted. Living as they did now, amongst the Moscow glitterati, Sergey had discovered that the usual bureaucratic Russian red tape had conveniently disappeared.

A young Arab man in a white dishdasha and red-checked keffiyeh sidled up to him and spoke in broken Russian.

"They tell me you are Sasha's father. You must know who she is?"

"No one knows who she is," Sergey explained for the hundredth time. "Sasha spent some weeks at the Mayo Clinic in America and we thought she might be one of the nurses. But, none of the nurses looks like her."

"But surely she has a name?"

"When we ask Sasha, he says her name is Jayal, but we can trace no one with that name."

Sergey and the Arab man gazed at the painting. The woman had vaguely Asian looks with high cheekbones and luminous almond eyes. Her jet-black hair was pulled back from her face, which showed no trace of makeup. But it was her smile that captivated audiences all over the world and had made the painting famous. Just like the Mona Lisa, her mysterious hint of a smile was otherwordly and was reflected in her eyes, which shone with an inner kindness. Everyone who saw the painting fell in love with her.

"Whoever she is, she must be the most desirable woman on Earth," the young man sighed before he wandered away to look at more of Sasha's work.