A Change of Texture

by Paul Maxwell Taylor

  ‘I don’t understand why all this is necessary. You’ve had it X-rayed, we know what it showed; why not just tell him?

  ‘Because I want him to acknowledge the obvious. You see, I’m rather old fashioned about this. I mean, one can’t deny science, but it was important to me to find it in the first place and be confident in what I saw, the X-ray is merely the proof that a repaint has occurred. And I want him to reach that conclusion, then I will tell him about the X-ray, just to confirm that his observations led him to the same place as mine led me.’

  With that, I heard footsteps on the veranda, followed by the chime of my front door.

  ‘Geraldine, welcome.’ I kissed her on the cheek, a liberty I would not have taken if anyone else had been watching, her recent visit having been kept to ourselves. She looked tired, but elegant in a soft pink cardigan over a white blouse.

  As expected, the Alley Cat moved towards her with enthusiasm. They embraced.

  ‘Lovely to see you, as usual, I love the colour pink on you, my dear.’

  ‘Thank you, Leonard.’ A slight blush appeared on her cheeks. It matched her cardigan.

  There was another chorus from my front door.

  I let Alexander in. He was dressed in a dark blue pinstripe three-piece suit and looked exactly as I imagined he wanted to, not one of the thinning grey hairs on his head out of place. His body language said he would not be wasting time.

  ‘Leonard.’ The word was loud, his handshake fast, then he turned. ‘Geraldine, how are you?’ At least he allowed her a smile that, if brief, seemed genuine. ‘So, we are all here. As I have explained to Carter, I don’t have a great deal of time. What’s new?’

  ‘Well, there is something new, new and important, and that’s why Carter and I have asked you both to attend. I’ll get straight to the point. I would like you both to come over here and stand next to me, if you would.’ With a flourish, he switched on his torch and moved close to Geraldine, easing her to a position near the surface of the canvas. ‘I ask you to look carefully at the swing, or, more specifically, the paintwork around the wooden seat on the swing. Look at its texture and thickness, the pattern of the brushwork, and tell me what you see.’

  He waited, doing a good job of keeping his enthusiasm under control.

  ‘It’s different, yes?’

  Geraldine moved her head, grabbed the Alley Cat’s hand holding the torch, then said, ‘yes it is, it looks thicker, it’s almost like it’s reworked, as if it’s been painted over. Good heavens, that’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it? I can’t believe we didn’t notice it last time.’

  ‘That’s because, my dear, we were not looking on the swing. If you recall, in L’enfant Perdu, the child is running, she’s not on the swing.’

  He patted her arm and nodded as he looked at her with satisfaction. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, replacing her look of weariness.

  The Alley Cat turned to face the one who was the more natural critic. Alexander took front-row position, puffed out his chest and assumed a defensive pose, but somehow there was a sense of uncertainty in his bravado. He took the torch and looked from every angle. The Alley Cat offered him the magnifying glass. He took it without a word.

  ‘It’s been painted over.’ It was the Alley Cat. ‘Don’t you agree, Alexander?’

  ‘Well, it’s hard to say. I mean, there is some irregularity there, I acknowledge that, but does it constitute what we might call a paint-over?’

  ‘Well, Alexander, I do know. You see, the painting has been X-rayed.’ The Alley Cat had raised himself to his full height, chin pushed forward. He was the High Court judge announcing his verdict.

  Alexander raised his eyebrows slightly, but not before there was a small but audible intake of breath. The air was electric. He looked from the Alley Cat to the painting, then, in a voice he clearly wanted to sound casual, asked, ‘X-rayed by whom?’

  ‘Professor Angela Kostas, Melbourne University. Do you know her?’

  He paused. ‘I have met her.’

  ‘The X-ray shows a small figure sitting on the swing. And, since there appears to be long hair, one might also conclude that it is a girl. The X-ray revealed that the spread of the repaint was only over a limited piece of the work and it was skilfully done, which leads one to believe the repaint was simply to cover the figure on the swing. There was no other obvious repainting.’

  They both moved like swordsmen seeking the spot that they could parry and thrust. But only one had a blade.

  ‘I think we agreed, Alexander, that there was much about this work that suggested your mother’s style. I recall you even commented that the clouds were done in that unique and wonderful style that was hers. And, moreover, and please correct me if I misquote, you said perhaps the main reason that you believed this was not your mother’s work was that the girl was not in the painting.’ Like a policeman concluding giving his evidence, he announced, ‘Which leaves me with little reason to doubt that this is a genuine Elaine Tyson.’ He stepped deliberately to the window, his hands behind his back. He looked out over my garden, as if to say that no more needed to be said, the decision was made.

  ‘That’s all well and good, Leonard, but it is not complete. I would like to spend some hours examining every inch of this work and, if you don’t mind, I would like to see the X-ray image myself. It would have been easier to have invited me the first time, gentlemen. Were you a party to this, Geraldine?

  ‘I know nothing of it,’ she said, her lips sealed in a tight line, her face expressionless.

  The Alley Cat was still standing at the window, with his hands behind him, like Nelson perusing his fleet. He turned and cleared his throat.

  ‘The reason, Alexander, was that I thought it important to let you see why I even bothered to consider having an X-ray done. It was important to me to ensure you understood that I needed to be confident having used my own tried and true examination protocol before I introduced a scientific examination. And also, of course, I did not want to waste your time if there was nothing to see.’

  His words were slow and measured, and he offered a slight smile. His words seemed a fine response, much more suitable than the ‘Get fucked’ I’d been considering for Alexander. Then, with eyebrows raised, he said, ‘I think I might take you up on that glass of chardonnay now, Carter, if the offer is still open?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course.’ Increasingly impressed by this man, I was about to leave the room to satisfy his request when I remembered my manners. ‘Can I get…? ‘

  ‘Yes, please, Carter.’ Geraldine had spoken before I could finish. I turned to Alexander, who shook his head. ‘No thank you.’

  As I started to leave the room, I was aware of Geraldine moving towards the couch. It seemed that what she had heard weighed heavily on her.

  As I moved to the kitchen, I shook my head and swore quietly as I realised that my lounge room was becoming something different. Once it had been a place for only innocent social occasions or private reading time. Now, it seemed to be a court, or perhaps a theatre of epic drama. As I contemplated the change in my life, I could hear Geraldine let out a small but oddly high-pitched laugh. She was talking but I could not make out the conversation. As I approached the lounge room, I realised that things had changed again. The performance had moved on to a new act, of high drama.

  The surprised faces of both men seemed lost, like kites flying untethered in the wind. I moved with the wine and towards Geraldine and, once again, she gave the odd high-pitched laugh. I stood before her with the tray in my hand and my feet weighted to the spot.

  ‘Carter, I’ve just told them about my daughter who I gave away at birth — your partner, the girl in that painting.’ Then she turned back to face the other two. ‘Maxine was her name and we lost her in a car accident. She discovered the painting just before she died. That’s why we’re all here.’

  I felt someho
w lighter.

  She took the wine off the tray and thanked me. Her voice seemed normal, almost casual.

  How is it that some of the most astonishing moments seem so understandable? Why aren’t all personally important occasions recorded on some immortal newsreel, so those involved can replay them later and appreciate what happened? Would the world change or history be unwritten?

  Alexander stood up, a movement that seemed to take some effort, his blue pinstripe suit now seeming shabby. He was doing his best to recover himself. He cleared his throat. ‘Geraldine, I‘m sorry, I knew none of this, I was never told…but I suppose that’s no surprise. Since our early childhood years, we haven’t spent a lot together, have we? Such a pity, really; I realise I hardly know you.’ His smile was wry, yet sad, unexpected, almost likeable. ‘I really don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry I could not have been there for you.’

  ‘Alex, even if you were, it’s unlikely you could have done a thing. I look back on myself at that time and I’m not impressed. If Mum had have painted me as I was at stage of my life I think I she would have portrayed me as a dark and ugly image, with the ego bigger than the soul.’

  She sighed, seemed smaller, almost lost in the couch. I glanced at the Alley Cat. His eyes were wide, his forehead creased and his mouth open. My mother would have told him to close it before he swallowed a fly.

  Alexander looked at his watch, then back at his sister. ‘I might make the main course if I leave now.’ He turned to me, and thrust out his hand. ‘Thank you for your hospitality, I realise that my view of you, and everything related to this painting, needs to be reconsidered. I feel rather silly.’ The smile returned, but only briefly. An earnest look replaced it. ‘I’m sorry to hear of your loss. I wish I’d got to meet her.’ His words trailed away, as if he was unsure if he should finish. The self-confident and impersonal being in a blue suit seemed to have moved out for a while. The new wearer of it was searching for words. I knew he shouldn’t try, as surprise is a not a good state for making decisions. He then he assumed something akin to his normal stature and turned. ‘Leonard, you have, as usual, surprised me with your observations. There is a definitely an over-paint on that canvas. I look forward to discussing it further with you.’

  With that, they shook hands. The Alley Cat had not uttered a word, he’d been thrown off balance, but now he said, ‘I’m in some sort of shock, I don’t know what to say.’ He’d been looking sadly at Geraldine, but then his expression changed and he turned to her brother and, in a different tone, said, ‘but I have to ask you, Alexander, are you acknowledging that this is your mother’s work?’

  Our eyes were on Alexander; there was a pause as he looked at the floor. He breathed deeply, and pushed the bony fingers of his right hand hard through his greying head of hair. When he spoke, his words came slowly. ‘Well, what I have heard tonight certainly gives me cause to reconsider. However, I won’t answer right now, Leonard. There’s much for me to absorb and somehow it seems less important than the fact my sister has changed so much of the world I thought I knew, or, perhaps I should say, my family’s world. So, I beg you to give me time; that’s really all I can say.’

  He moved to his sister, sat down next to her and gave her a brief hug. Their eyes met.

  ‘My dear, I’m lost for words. I wish I’d known earlier, years ago, maybe I could have…helped…somehow.’

  He kissed her on the cheek. Geraldine nodded and patted his hand three times.

  Alexander left the room quickly. I was still holding the tray of glasses, and awkwardly handed them to the Alley Cat, who was unprepared and just managed to keep them upright.

  I raced after Alexander but he had already opened the front door. He turned and nodded formally. It was absurd that after all that had been revealed, he left like a clandestine courier hurrying off with the secret documents. I wanted to say something but what would have been appropriate? I watched him move down the path and close the gate behind him.

  As I reached the door to the lounge room, I heard the Alley Cat: ‘It’s all right, it’s all right.’

  Then, in a tear-filled voice that came from someplace where words are not planned, I heard: ‘I never met her. I saw her as a baby when she was a few minutes’ old and I never saw her again. Oh, I was such a fool, such a fool….’

  She said something else but the words were lost amid the sobs. I softly stepped past the door and moved to my bathroom. I sat on the edge of the cream bath and wiped my eyes on a pink tissue. It was perhaps the first time ever I’d taken a tissue from that box. I hadn’t bought that box of tissues, I was not the one who placed it in the bathroom.

  I went to the kitchen and poured a fourth glass of wine. I knew I had another sitting on a tray in my lounge room but it was not the time to go in there. I sat in my kitchen and waited for life to return to normal pace. When the time seemed right, I went back.

  They sat together on the couch, her head on his shoulder. Her eyes glistened in the lamp’s soft light. The other lamp, which had been used to examine the canvas, had been switched off. Leonard E Catt knew about tact.

  As I entered, Geraldine removed her head from his shoulder. I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to. She cleared her throat and smiled at me. The smile stopped me; it was unexpected in its brightness, its honesty. It was another reminder that expectations and reality can live several postcodes apart.

  Geraldine struggled to her feet and stood in front of me. Her arms slowly came up and we embraced. I told her she had her daughter’s smile.

  Then the Alley Cat stood in front of me. ‘I thank you for your decency and hospitality, Carter, and, again, I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve probably underestimated how difficult this has all been for you. You have my respect…and that was a delightful chardonnay.’ He shook my hand formally and nodded his head. He turned to Geraldine. ‘Did you drive, my dear?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Then I will drive you home.’

  I walked them to the door and again embraced her. I shook his hand and, as I did, he moved a little closer and patted me on the shoulder.

  Arm in arm, they walked slowly to his car. The wind was cool, the streetlights were bright, but the shadows were sombre. I was happy to close the door and turn my back on them.

  CHAPTER 48

  I scratched my unshaven chin and took another spoonful of muesli. I found myself going over the previous night. Later, I jogged. I did my usual sprint over the last one hundred metres and stood bent over my front fence, sucking in air. Soon, I was back on the computer.

  He was surprised to see the word Antoinette on his mobile screen, because the last thing she’d said was that she didn’t want to see him again.

  ‘It’s me, sorry about the other day. I have something to tell you. Can we meet this afternoon, same place, same time?’

  ‘Yep, sure, see you then.’ He wanted to ask questions but she was gone.

  He was early but she was already there.

  ‘I don’t think we look alike.’

  He shrugged., ‘I didn’t say we did. It was the woman in the sandwich bar.’

  She was less anxious today, but she was still a mystery to him.

  ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?

  ‘I went for a drive yesterday, on my own, to Albury, to the hospital where I was born. When I got there, it was all so easy, they were so helpful. How many things are out there, you know, things that we should know but don’t, things that are so easy to discover? Life is ridiculous.’

  She noticed he was tapping his finger on the table, and she knew she was saying little. He wanted her to get to the point but she needed to get there at her own pace. He noticed she had a habit of pushing her hair back behind her ears.

  ‘Birth records, I’m talking about birth records, so easy to access and there it was.’

  She was looking at her hands as she spoke, as if she was look
ing for something. She paused.

  He breathed deeply, keeping cool. ‘Go on.’

  She looked up and their eyes met. He was impatient, but knew that he must give her time. Later, he would look back on this moment and wonder if that understanding was further evidence of what she was about to tell him.

  ‘Well, it certainly seems my mum had a daughter on the day I was born. I’ve got to assume she’s my mum.’

  ‘Oh, so she wasn’t lying.’

  ‘Maybe not lying about me, but it seems I’m a twin. I was born three minutes after my brother, but …’ she blinked several times … ‘I don’t have a brother, only a younger sister.’

  She spoke quickly and with a nervous laugh that fell awkwardly on the table between them. He wanted to tell her to stop, that it seemed ridiculous, but then he heard the words again, it was like they echoed, and this time the coin dropped and the music quietly started, and then he heard the words once more and now she sounded different, like she was in a different key and talking to someone else.

  ‘The boy could have died soon after, but if he did, it wasn’t in that hospital in the three days my mum was there, not according to the records I saw. Maybe he died later, or maybe he’s still alive. Do you think we look alike?

  A mobile phone rang, was it his or hers? No…it was real, it was mine. I wanted to ignore it but I recognised the caller.

  ‘Can we do it next week? I need a few days off, but just a few, I know I have to do it sooner rather than later. Anyway, I’ve said the words out loud, I told my brother and Leonard. I don’t want Gloria and… Maxine’s family to hear it from somewhere else. I assume they know that I know…is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Then it’s no longer a secret but I don’t want them thinking I might be talking about their family; you know, telling people the story about where I fit in before I talk to them. Does that make sense?’