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Chapter 439
The Life Drawing Class

While we did our best to avoid the world of work, there were times when a job and a few bob came in exceedingly handy. And it was at times like these that we would end up doing the daftest things. One that sticks in the mind particularly was when the fairest one amongst us took on a bit of modelling. No, no, no, this was not modelling of the catwalk variety. This was modelling of the life drawing variety. And who better to do it?

It was, as I might have mentioned, our Redhead who had been going along diligently to art classes round the local adult education centre. Been getting along very well he had too. While there one day he heard it said that they needed someone a little on the interesting side for the students to sketch. The ever-loyal lad went and asked for a few more details, and mentioned he might have a mate who’d be perfect for the part. Back at the ranch he passed on the relevant info to our Fair One, who was looking to boost his savings a little to fund a possible trip to see his sweet Ana Lucia, the love of his love, whom he had met during an adventure down on the Kent coast. Ana Lucia had now returned to the family home in Barcelona, and our Fair One was fair wasting away pining for his Spanish rose. We were getting to the point of despair with our lovelorn comrade, and we liked our Redhead’s idea. Thankfully so did The Fair One.

Being a proud man, there were some stipulations our boy put on this proposed activity which would curb his daily peregrinations, and in his best peremptory tones he pointed out that he would be insisting on a no nudity clause in his contract, and would most certainly not pose in a class any of us were taking part in. Biting our lips and holding our tongues, we let our Redhead assure his compadre that he had nothing to fear. They, the adult education bods, were simply seeking a suitable soul to sit and strike a pose, and were not interested in his private parts. And so it came to pass that for a few hours each Tuesday and Thursday our Fair One sat up on a stage, dressed casual, with a variety of still life accessories on a table close by, every bit the perfectly poised and very live model. And one very capable of holding his pose, to all intents and purposes oblivious of the folks around him, lost in his daydreams, with an old tape player gently playing some old Bobbie Gentry and Nancy Sinatra to keep his lonely meditations company.

The would-be-good artists loved our model. As per his stipulations any requests for our Fair One to bare more than his soul were politely declined. Nevertheless our boy was a huge hit. True to his word, the Redhead kept well away, but he heard all about what was going on. By all accounts, it was a right old mixed up group. A few younger people, serious about the art thing. A few housewives spreading their wings. A few retired free thinkers. And the good Lady Jane, as she came to be known, who was something of a mystery. Ah, yes,sweet Lady Jane. I suppose, ostensibly, Lady Jane could have fitted into the category of housewife spreading her wings. That’s the sort of air she wanted to give off. Well-spoken, well-to-do, well-dressed. Baggy arran jumpers, leggings, boots, old Barbour coat, and a mane of raven hair. She had that very appealing, very mysterious, grown-up but not quite grown out of it hippy air. You didn’t know if she was about to go off travelling round Ireland in a horse drawn caravan or waking her Labradors on daddy’s estate. Quite what she was doing round our local adult education centre was anyone’s guess. As it was no one knew much about her except her husband had money but was away a lot, so she was house sitting for friends, and filling her time as best she could. Any road up, she sure could draw.

So, our Fair One was intent on remaining above all the goings on. That was until he saw one of the sketches Lady Jane had completed. You had to hand it to her. It was beautifully simple. Maybe deceptively so. Because it was just his head, side on, but there was something about the eyes. The way Lady Jane had caught the eyes. Well, it was like she knew exactly what our Fair One was thinking. The old adage. About the eyes being the windows of the soul. There was so much oohing and aahing about the sketch from people in the class that even our Fair One was tempted to take a look. And he still maintains that the picture made him shiver, though he didn’t have a clue why. It was the Redhead that suggested that the sketch could be sent as a gift for Ana Lucia. The Fair One thought that a good idea, though it seems Lady Jane was less than willing to let the picture go. Perhaps I can do another one for you, she said? Maybe you’ll sit specially for me in more comfortable surroundings, she suggested? Ah, we thought, this could spell trouble.

Despite our wise counsel, the fairest of us all went ahead and headed home with Lady Jane where he sat and modelled. Hmm, we said. True, he said. But it didn’t stop there. After the picture was done and dusted, our Fair One still went on seeing the deadly Lady Jane. We didn’t think this was a good thing. We didn’t think this was a healthy thing. We thought the sweet Lady Jane knew the ways of the world a little too well. We thought our Fair One would be quite a catch for her. Think of Ana Lucia, we’d say to our friend in need. I think of nothing and no one else, said our pretty put out pal. Look lads, we just talk, okay, he said? He seemed hurt. Perhaps we were wrong? You’ve got it all wrong, said our Fair One. She’s a lady is Jane, said our friend. She knows what I’m going through, he added. And anyway, we just talk. She’s a good listener is Jane, he added.

What will be, will be, we thought. What could we do anyway? He was old enough to look after himself. His sister though, she had much stronger views on the subject. Soul Sister Number One, our Fair One’s better half, steadfastly refused to trust Lady Jane even an inch. Call it feminine intuition, she’d say, but something’s afoot. She’s using him, sucking something out of him, she added. Oh behave, she growled on seeing our raised eyebrows. Can’t you see she’s got a reason for all this, pleaded Soul Sister Number One? We supposed she had a point, but couldn’t get too worked up about things. Then before we knew it, Lady Jane was moving out, giving up minding her friends’ place, and decamping, back to Berkshire, or somewhere, from whence she came. And that was that. Life went on as before. Our Fair One dreamed of Ana Lucia and Barcelona. Wrote endless letters. Put together poetry. Made expensive long distance ‘phone calls. Tried to save a bit. Even took a job in a bookies to save a few bob.

Then one day a parcel arrived for our Fair One. A jiffy bag with a book in it. A book with an inscription inside. With love, it said. The picture on the back was of a lovely lady with a mane of raven hair and a Barbour waistcoat. She was wearing an arran jumper and an enigmatic smile. It was a smile we recognised. We each read the book in turn. We each laughed on reaching the end. We knew it was about our Fair One. We could hear his voice behind every line. We seemed to be looking through his eyes. We knew now what was being sucked out of our friend. Soul Sister Number One was livid. She wanted to speak to solicitors. She wanted to sue. Our Fair One was strangely sanguine, though. I knew she was a writer, he said, but she just didn’t want many people to know. And anyway, he added, Ana Lucia loved that portrait so much I’d forgive her anything.

© 2008 John Carney
Illustration © 2008 Alistair Fitchett