Ink and Ivy

by Sara Martin

  “I could ask the same of you. I didn’t know you were connected to the art scene here in our small town?”

  “Someone invited me. His art is on display tonight.”

  “Is that so? Who is he?”

  “His name is Julian.”

  “So, you’re acquainted with Julian Hammond? Interesting.”

  I wondered how he knew Julian, then it hit me. “Oh yeah, you’re a friend of Priscilla, aren’t you?”

  “So, you know Priscilla as well? You’re full of surprises. And you, Lana?”

  “I’m just tagging along with Ivy. I don’t know anyone here,” Lana explained.

  “Well, I wish you both an enjoyable evening. Young Julian is a talented artist. You’re sure to enjoy his work.”

  I nodded. “I’m curious to see what his art is like. He must be good.”

  “He is indeed. His display is over there by those sculptures. Go take a look.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He bowed curtly and disappeared back into the crowd.

  Lana and I headed towards Julian’s pictures. We couldn’t get to the front, but I had a decent view over the shoulder of the woman in front of me.

  I counted seven of his pictures all together. The beautiful portraits were rendered in a classical style. Two were nude ladies, and one was a nude male. The rest were all of the same young woman, clothed and in various poses. In the first, she sat at a piano—the one at Opulence, I realised. In the others, she sat outside a café, laid on a couch, and walked with an umbrella.

  The longer I stared at the pictures, the more the familiarity of the girl sunk in. “I know her…”

  “She does look familiar,” Lana said. “I can’t work out where I know her from.”

  “You know her too?”

  Lana nodded.

  We stood there, taking in the beauty of Julian’s work.

  “These are amazing,” Lana mused.

  “They are, aren’t they?” I sighed. He was so talented. My writing was nothing compared to his art.

  A laugh interrupted our quiet observation.

  “This is so weird.”

  We turned around. The girl from Julian’s drawings approached us. Charlotte, the girl I had seen at the second-hand bookstore. She was dressed in a dark green dress, and her reddish hair was tied up in a topknot.

  “Pictures of me in a gallery. He’s lucky I let him submit these.”

  “Charlotte Preston?” Lana ventured.

  The girl nodded but seemed to struggle to recall Lana.

  “We took piano lessons with Susanne Brady.”

  Charlotte smiled. “That’s right. That was a few years ago. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”

  “Lana.”

  “And you?” Charlotte eyed me up and down. “I saw you talking to Julian at the bookstore.”

  “Yes, that was me. I’m Ivy.”

  “How do you know Julian?”

  “I don’t, really. Just know him from Priscilla’s shop.” I was dying to know what Charlotte’s relationship with Julian was, but I was scared to know the answer. My inner turmoil made me miss the opportunity to ask.

  “Where are Julian and Priscilla, anyway?” Lana asked. “I still haven’t met them.”

  “They’re around. Priscilla is over there talking to Woody Anderson, Julian’s art teacher.”

  She pointed to where I saw a glimpse of Priscilla’s long black hair and a scruffy yet handsome man.

  “And Julian, he’s been cornered by Gilly Black, Priscilla’s friend and a big admirer of his. It’ll probably be some time before he’s able to get away. I wonder if I should go rescue him? Nah. I’ll let him suffer for a bit longer. I’m going to get another drink. Do either of you want anything?”

  “Do they have anything non-alcoholic? I’m driving,” I explained.

  “I’m sure they have lemonade.”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  “And you?” Charlotte asked Lana.

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  “One lemonade and one mojito coming up.”

  While Charlotte went to get the drinks, Lana and I continued to look at Julian’s pictures. The crowd had thinned now, and we could get a better view.

  A small white plaque next to one of the pictures gave a short bio.

  Julian Claude Francis Hammond, 20

  Julian is an up-and-coming artist with immense talent. He graduated from Kent College, the top pupil in his year. Since then, he has been under Woody Anderson’s tutelage while preparing for an apprenticeship with master draughtsman Alberto Barsetti. In Barsetti’s atelier in Florence, Italy, Julian will further his draughtsmanship, as well as learn about traditional printing techniques such as engraving and etching.

  My jaw dropped. “He’s…so accomplished. I can’t believe it.”

  “Alberto Barsetti? I don’t know who that is, but he sounds important,” Lana said.

  “So, he’s going to Florence? I wonder when that will be?”

  Charlotte came back with the drinks.

  “Thanks,” I said. I felt guilty for my original judgement of Charlotte. She was actually very nice.

  Priscilla made her way towards us in a cloud of heavy perfume. She looked stunning, dressed in a kimono style dress, with her hair flowing down to her waist and her lips painted dark red.

  “Good evening ladies. So glad you made it. What do you think of Julian’s work?”

  “These are really impressive,” I said.

  “I’m glad you think so,” Priscilla turned to Lana. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Lana said. She went to shake Priscilla’s hand but was greeted with a kiss on the cheek instead.

  “Charmed,” Priscilla said.

  She also gave Charlotte a small nod of acknowledgement, and Charlotte returned a wry smile.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Ivy. Julian will be glad to see you.”

  “Does he even know I’m here? I haven’t seen him all night.”

  “He’s been inundated by various people. This whole networking thing makes him uncomfortable.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “You must talk with him later, though, when things have quietened down. You might not be able to get a word in at this time.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I’m glad I got to see you again, Ivy. I wanted to tell you how talented you are.”

  “Talented?”

  “Your writing. I read your story in Alfred’s newsletter.”

  My face flushed.

  “Are you working on anything else at the moment?”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s a shame. You shouldn’t let talent like that go to waste.”

  I didn’t say anything, just shuffled my feet in embarrassment.

  “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Make sure you have a proper look around the gallery. There is so much great art on display. Whoever knew there were so many fantastic artists in this small town?”

  I nodded.

  Priscilla smiled and bid us farewell. Charlotte slipped away too. I saw her chatting and flirting with the roguish Woody Anderson. I wished I had her confidence.

  “What do you know about Charlotte?” I asked Lana.

  “Not that much. She went to Mansfield College. She’s a few years old than us. Let’s see… She was head girl, three years ago, I think.”

  That would make her around twenty or twenty-one. “I wonder if she’s Julian’s girlfriend?”

  Lana shrugged. “I still haven’t met the guy.”

  We spent a while making our way slowly around the rest of the gallery. Several paintings, photographs and sculptures were displayed. I noted which pieces were Woody’s. His art was bold and abstract. Nothing like Julian’s classic style.

  The gallery had quietened down significantly. I couldn’t see Julian anywhere. I checked the time and realised we needed to leave soon. As eager as Lana was to meet Julian, I could tell she
was getting bored. I thought it better not to make her linger too much longer.

  “Let’s head off,” I said.

  “What about Julian?”

  I shrugged. “He’s not around. It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine.”

  “It’s fine. Really.”

  “Well, all right.” She didn’t put up much of a fight. “I just need to use the bathroom, and then we can go.”

  I nodded. Lana disappeared down the corridor. Across the room, a floor-length curtain fluttered in the breeze, revealing a glimpse of the outdoors beyond it.

  It must lead to a balcony.

  I decided to slip out for a minute to get some fresh air.

  There, on the balcony, was Julian, dressed in a grey suit with a navy tie. He held a glass of red wine and stared out over the park. He looked solemn, like he wanted to be left alone.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I squeaked and turned to leave. A hand came down on my shoulder, stopping me.

  “It’s okay.” His voice was soft and deep.

  My knees weakened.

  “I just wanted a moment alone, but it’s okay if it’s you.”

  “Oh?”

  “As long as you don’t interrogate me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I get asked the same questions, over and over, about my art and future plans. It gets pretty tiring.”

  “Well, I promise I won’t do that. I just came outside to get some fresh air.” I crossed the balcony and looked out over the edge. It was a calm, cool night. The moonlight gave the town park a beautiful glow. I took slow, deep breaths of the brisk night air.

  After a moment of silence, Julian spoke. “Thanks for coming out tonight. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

  “Well, I’m here. I like your work. You’re a really good artist.”

  “Thanks,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a message from Lana. Where are you?

  “Sorry, I need to go. My friend’s waiting for me.”

  Julian nodded. “Actually, I’d better get back in there too, before people assume I’ve abandoned the place.”

  I pulled back the curtain and returned to the gallery. Julian followed me. Lana sat on a couch. She stood up when I approached her with Julian still at my side.

  “Julian, this is my friend Lana. Lana, Julian.”

  “Hey,” Lana said, her eyes searching him. She seemed pleased by what she saw.

  “Nice to meet you, Lana.”

  “We loved seeing your art. Your drawings are so good.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is Charlotte Preston your muse?”

  Julian seemed taken aback. “You know Charlotte?”

  “Yes. Not well, but I was kinda surprised to see her in your drawings.”

  “Muse might be too strong a word. It can be pretty tough to find willing models outside my drawing class. Thankfully, Charlotte volunteered.”

  I tried not to let my relief show.

  “Actually, with Charlotte going back to uni in a few days, I’m going to be model-less. I have a portfolio due soon, so it’s not great timing. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

  “That sucks,” I said. “I hope you manage to find someone.”

  Lana looked thoughtful. “What about Ivy?”

  “What?” I spluttered.

  Outside of Julian’s view, Lana gave me a gentle nudge. “I’m too busy myself, but Ivy has time, and she’d be a great model.”

  “I don’t know about that…”

  Julian looked me up and down, assessing me. “I think you’d be perfect.”

  “See, Julian thinks so too. So, why not?”

  Every cell in my body wanted to shout, “no way,” but this was my chance to spend more time with Julian. Could I try not to screw it up? I just had one concern.

  “This would all be fully clothed, right?”

  “Yes,” Julian said, his face reddening. “I only draw nude models in my drawing class.”

  It took another moment of consideration, but then I agreed. “Well, all right, then. If you need me.”

  “Are you sure?” Julian asked with caution.

  I nodded.

  “Thanks, Ivy. I already have your number. I’ll be in touch.”

  Oh, my God. What had I just signed up for?

  “Right, well, we’d better get going,” I said, half choking.

  “Bye, Julian,” Lana said with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Have a good night.” Julian looked at me. “Bye, Ivy.”

  “Bye,” I croaked. My face grew red, so I tugged Lana out the door with me.

  As soon as we were out of earshot, Lana blurted, “He’s gorgeous. Even I think so.” She was almost as giddy as I was.

  “Why did you volunteer me to be his model?”

  “What? It’s the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get closer. You’ll thank me later.”

  I sighed. “I hope you’re right.” It was too late to back out now.

  8

  I woke to my phone buzzing and groaned. Who in their right mind would text me at this hour? I blindly outstretched my arm and felt for the phone on my bedside table. Once it was safely within my grasp, I pulled it towards me, and through bleary eyes, I read the message.

  Thanks for coming out last night. J.

  My heart did a somersault in my chest. Suddenly, I was wide awake. Checking the time, I realised it wasn’t so early after all. It was already after ten. I staggered out of bed, and after a quick shower, I went to make breakfast.

  “Good afternoon,” Mum said upon my entrance. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

  “Good morning to you too,” I bit back.

  “Morning, honey,” Dad said from out on the patio. “How was the exhibition?”

  “It was fantastic. I never realised there was such an art scene here.” I went to the kitchen and popped two slices of bread in the toaster. “Cup of tea?” I asked Mum as I filled the kettle.

  “Oh, yes please,” she replied.

  When the toast was done and the tea had brewed, I brought a tray over to the table. I placed a cup of tea on a coaster next to Mum, who sat with her laptop in front of her.

  “Look at this!” Mum said.

  “What is it?” I took a bite of the Nutella-smothered toast.

  “There’s a sale on flights to Wellington for the days the Law School open day is on.”

  “Oh?”

  “Shall I go ahead and book tickets for us? These deals sell out fast.”

  “That might be a good idea, Ivy,” Dad said, coming over to have a look for himself. He squinted at the laptop screen. “I’ve never seen fares cheaper than this.”

  I thought about what Lana had said about going by herself. With a small breath, I uttered, “Are you coming too?”

  Mum looked confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I heard most students go by themselves.”

  “Really? But, surely, most parents are interested in going too?”

  “It’s just that it looks better to go on your own. It shows you’re independent.”

  “Ivy has a point,” Dad chimed in. “I suppose it’s sort of like turning up to apply for a job and having your mother in tow.”

  Mum was rendered speechless. After a while, she gathered her words. “Well, I never thought of it that way.”

  “You’re all grown up now, Ivy. I think it would be good for you to go on your own. You don’t need your mother holding your hand.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured Mum.

  She crossed her arms. I could tell she was still working it out in her head. “Hmmm. Okay, then,” she finally said. “I could still go with you and just stay behind while you’re at the open day.”

  “I don’t think that’s really necessary.”

  “You’re sure you’ll be fine?”

  I nodded. “I’ll be there all on my own next year. Might as well get a taste of it
now.”

  “All right. You can book the flight yourself, then. I’ll leave it all to you.”

  She was in a huff now, but it was well worth it.

  “I can book it. I’ll need money, though.”

  Dad pulled out his wallet and took out a credit card. “Here,” he said, handing it over. “Go crazy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You might as well book accommodation while you’re at it.”

  “Don’t spend too much,” Mum warned. “You’re just there for one night.”

  “I won’t!”

  In my room, I booted up the computer and promptly booked the discounted plane tickets. Only then did it sink in that I’d be going by myself. Complete freedom for a weekend. I did a little research on decent budget hotels before booking a single room at the Travelodge. I also booked airport transfers for convenience’s sake. With each booking confirmation, I grew more excited. It would be the first time I’d ever gone out of town by myself.

  In the thrill of it all, I forgot about Julian’s text message. I didn’t remember to reply until later on in the day. Reading over his message once again, I typed my reply and hit send.

  No problem. I had a good time.

  A few seconds later, his reply came. Still keen to do some modelling? Let me know if you have changed your mind.

  I was tempted to say I was having second thoughts. Just picturing myself as a model made me cringe with embarrassment. But I thought about what Lana told me. It’s a good opportunity to get closer to him. I took a deep breath and replied.

  I haven’t changed my mind. Let me know when you want me.

  Julian answered, and we worked out a time. On Thursday afternoon, he would draw me. The gravity of the situation was not lost on me.

  I set out to Opulence on Thursday. When I arrived, a sign on the door read, Back soon. I peered through the window. The shop was empty, but I knocked anyway. I had arrived a little early, so it was understandable if Julian hadn’t expected me yet. Standing there, waiting with my arms folded, I grew increasingly anxious. Eventually, footsteps approached and the door opened.

  “Hi,” Julian said, seeming a little flustered. He wore a white apron covered in smudges of charcoal and graphite. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing subtly muscular arms, and a pencil was tucked behind his ear.