Writing for Fun
Portrait of a Woman - Gerry Miller
March 2014
And the simple answer to the title of this testimony is that we agreed that we three should never meet again. The risks would be too great and we were certain that none of us really wanted to take that chance. The consequences could be catastrophic and whilst our friendships had been steadfast, it would surely be that resoluteness in separation that would safeguard us.
In many ways it all started as a joke and indeed Mark aka Mungo and I had been friends since childhood. We had grown up in a small hamlet in the highlands of Scotland. Mungo was landed gentry and I was the water bailiff's daughter, I taught him salmon fishing and he taught me about art and indeed about life. I soon learned that whilst he would be the most loyal and trustworthy of friends, we would not always tread the same path.
Schools separated us as he was off to prep school, Eton and then University. The local schools were good enough for me. I applied for the University of St. Andrews to do a degree in Art History and won my place purely on merit. I am sure that Mungo ended at the same place because his family had traditionally funded a scholarship. I expect you are wondering by now who the third was and then along came Mary. She was gorgeous, absolutely stunning and turning almost every head we somehow became best friends, and she always called me Midge. Mary had been sent to St. Andrews by her Italian parents as they told her if it was good enough for Prince William it was good enough for her.
Mary dated Midge but that did not last long and she left him almost broken hearted, but somehow she managed to retain his friendship. And the three of us would mix in a variety of ways. Mungo was a year ahead of us and decided in his fickle way to take a term out and travel the art galleries and museums of Europe. When he returned to classes he told us he had fallen in love with Gustav Klimt and he had visited his works in Paris Vienna and in Piacenza, and from such a simple conversation the idea grew.
We each in turn visited the Ricci-Oddi Gallery in Piacenza and we all had to come up with a plan. Our scheme was to find the best way to steal Klimt's Portrait of a Woman. In it, a young woman with dark hair and rouged cheeks is shown against a green background. Mungo would pay us for our contribution to the robbery and he would retain the painting. Apparently his father already had a small collection of stolen works and he would easily be able to add this to the vault, where he would be able to see it at his leisure when he inherited the lands and title.
From this moment on we kept our contacts as a threesome casual and brief, both Mary and I would be in clover with our million pound pay off. All we needed now was a plan and two more trips to this small Italian city gave us some clear ideas. The theft would be planned to coincide with the renovation work, in advance of which many works would be removed from the gallery. I was pleased as punch with my idea. Mary had no understanding of my unusual skills and did not believe my plan was feasible. Mungo was totally behind me he had seen my talent at work. Mind you the pair of them did think that walking in and somehow walking out with the painting was a far more practical idea. How they thought that they could cut an almost two foot square painting out of its frame and spirit it away whilst no one saw them, was not a problem they had solved.
At last agreement was reached and arrangements were made, Mungo was going to take a break at the start of February and drive through to Italy. We arranged a rendezvous in Bergamo and on a bright wintery February day he picked us up from the airport. Adrenaline was raging through us and we were in the highest of spirits. I had brought my own specialist equipment and folded down it had fitted neatly in my luggage. We drove into Piacenza and Mary was dropped off to do her tourist bit sketching out the gallery. All was in chaos skips and scaffolding building materials and cement mixers were all around the building. But most important of all the painting was still there.
We met again at a small pizzeria around the corner from the gallery and indeed we looked as indeed we were three students on holiday and up to high jinks. There had been some disagreement as to timing but as soon as it became dark and the workers had all disappeared then we would move. Time dragged but at last the building was locked and left to the silence. As we took off our brightly coloured ski jackets we became invisible in the blackness. Taking my rucksack, Mungo and Mary removed the other bags and the tube from the car boot and we were off.
It was all so simple really it totally surprised us, the ropes were soon attached and I made ready to climb. Mungo was on the roof in a jiffy and soon I was beside him, Mary placed herself out of sight behind the skip waiting and watching. It was cold and windy up there but not as bad as the highlands at home. The skylight was easily forced and it was on my second attempt that my fishing line and hook caught the painting. Slow and steady and carefully it came through the skylight, Mitch leaning in grabbed it and cut it from the frame. Next came the tricky bit lowering the frame back into the gallery. Slowly it wended its way downward getting it back on the hooks would be impossible, so I gently laid the frame back against the wall and shook the hook free.
Mitch had rolled the canvas and placed it in the tube he had brought up with him. Down we climbed and passing the tube to Mary she disappeared off into the night. Mitch and I gathered up our equipment and returning to the car folded everything away and waited. Mary soon appeared and we drove back through the rolling hills. Mitch dropped us at Mary's home where we would be attending her sister's wedding. We waved him a cheery goodbye and went in to enjoy the three days of festivities.
We enjoyed our little holiday but each day we scanned the papers avidly. Finally just as we were leaving we saw the article. Police were unable to say whether the theft was by one or a number of art thieves, they also could not determine whether the picture had been taken out the main entrance or if a string and hook had been used to fish the painting through a nearby skylight. All that had been left was an empty frame with a partial finger print. They stated that the Klimt painting acquired by the collection in 1925 was probably too famous to sell and there was some speculation that it had been stolen to order. Police were apparently baffled
We regularly checked our bank accounts and at last our payments were received. Thus we knew that the painting had arrived at Mitch's home in Scotland. The posted tube containing the canvas had travelled by snail mail and indeed ended up at the right location, safe unharmed and unexamined. We returned to Scotland finished university and after that never did the three of us meet again.
It is seventeen years since and I suppose that the sadness for me was I did indeed miss my friends but life has gone on and it has been good. Mind you I did have a surprise today I opened the Guardian and there she was 'Portrait of a Woman' by Klimt. The heading stated that following technological advances the police were reopening the investigation into the theft. Investigators were hoping that new test results will provide a match with one or more suspects. I smiled happily to myself I knew we had all worn gloves and whoever the fingerprint belonged to it was certainly not Mary, Mungo or Midge.