by Peter Martin
‘Sure, I’d love to help you if I can.’
‘Would you do a portrait of Tim for me? I have lots of photographs. I’ll bring them over if you like, and you can help me choose which one is best. What do you think?’
‘Well, I’d consider that an honour. I hope I can do him justice.’
‘That’s fantastic.’
‘Would you like oil on canvas, water colour, or acrylic? And what size are you looking for?’
‘Well... what do you suggest?’
‘I’d say oil on canvas would be the best, although it’s the most expensive... say about 24 x 18 inches.’
‘Wonderful – would you frame it for me as well?’
‘Naturally.’
‘I’ll rummage through the photo albums, and bring the pictures round, say tomorrow afternoon if that’s all right?’
He nodded, a thin smile on his sad face.
‘I’d better be going now.’
‘Till tomorrow – oh and the best of luck with your website. Hope someone who knows what’s happened to Tim gets in touch.’
She smiled back, hardly able to wait to see how Alan’s painting of Tim would progress. It would give her a new interest in an otherwise miserable life.
Chapter 16
What a day I’ve had, Bob thought as he stepped through the front door. He was looking forward to his evening meal, that takeaway last night was okay, but he wanted something freshly cooked. After taking his coat off and putting his briefcase down in the hall, he went to the kitchen, realising at once there wasn’t a whiff of anything cooking. And the house seemed so quiet. Just where had she got to now? Or more to the point what was she up to?
Taking the stairs two at a time he found her in Tim’s room sitting on the bed, a photograph album open on her lap, totally engrossed in it.
‘Hello love,’ he said, popping his head round the door.
She looked up and smiled warmly at him before returning to the photograph albums.
‘Looking for anything in particular?’
‘What… oh yes. I was just going through Tim’s albums, to find his best photos’. Why don’t you come and help?’
‘Ok, but why now? Shouldn’t you be cooking the tea?’
‘Sorry, but I haven’t thought about that yet.’
‘Oh.’
‘Listen, I bumped into Alan, next door, earlier on, and he showed me a few more of those beautiful paintings of his. You ought to see them Bob – there’re incredible. Then I got an idea – I asked him to do a portrait of Tim from one of these photos. And amazingly, he said he would. Isn’t that great?’
‘I suppose. But won’t it come rather expensive?’
‘Maybe, but it’s just a one off. And besides it’s not as though we can’t afford it. It’ll be well worth whatever price we have to pay.’
‘Hope you’re right, love.’ Bob scratched his head, wondering where this had come from.
‘So what do you think?’
Bob smiled, but in all honesty was afraid to speak his mind. To him it didn’t matter which photographs she chose. It wouldn’t bring Tim back to them. He sat down on the bed next to her.
‘Perhaps this one, taken at school a couple of years ago,’ she said. ‘Or here’s another when he had curly hair as a baby. Or these taken on holiday last year with all the scenery in the background.’
‘I can’t decide, love. Do whatever you think is best. Any of those would make a great painting.’ He did his best to sound interested.
She sighed. ‘I don’t know which one to choose. Maybe I’ll take these few and a few others and ask Alan what he thinks tomorrow. Is that all right with you?’
‘Yes, why not. Can’t wait to see the end result. And now if you’ve finished - how about dinner? Although seeing as you haven’t started anything yet, might it be an idea to go out?’
‘Yes, if you like,’ she grudgingly agreed.
He wondered how Alan painting them a picture, would help her cope better with Tim’s disappearance. But one thing for sure - she needed to snap out of this… obsession… fixation or whatever the word was to describe her frame of mind.
When she accessed her computer the next morning after Bob had gone to work, Maria emailed Alan. She told him she had the photographs and asked when she could come round.
An hour later he replied, inviting her for a sandwich and a cup of tea at dinner time. And suggesting that afterwards they could look at the photographs together. Maria was happy to do this.
They ate ham and cheese cobs and drank tea before at last she placed the photographs on the coffee table in front of them.
She watched Alan pick up each one individually, gaze at it for a few seconds, before moving onto the next one. He must have studied the pictures for over fifteen minutes before looking up at her.
‘Well, they’re all good – I could do a painting from any one of these. What I might do is blow one of them up. So pick out your favourite, and we’ll look at it on a larger scale.’
‘I like them all – but I was hoping you’d advise me.’
‘Really, but that’s up to you. First decide which period of your son’s life you’d like to capture. Either when he was a baby, a little boy or the most recent as a teenager, which would convey how he was immediately before he disappeared.’
Maria sat and stroked her chin with a finger, annoyed Alan wasn’t telling her what she wanted to hear. But suddenly it came to her, and she realised there could be no other choice. ‘Perhaps the latest one would be the best, taken when we were on holiday with the scenic view in the background. What do you think?’
‘Perfect, that’s the one I was hoping you’d say. See great minds think alike. Right, let me blow this photograph up and then I’ll have more to go on.’
He went away to his computer, scanned the image, to an A4 size, before printing it off. Maria saw him pin the enlarged photograph on his easel.
‘Right, if you don’t mind, I’ll start sketching him, and we’ll see how it develops, shall we?’ He found out a piece of charcoal and started to put the outline of the picture down. ‘You can stay if you like.’
She smiled, and sitting there opposite him began to talk about Tim, while he added the odd fond comment about his own daughter. She noticed his mind was focused on the paper and the photo, never taking his eyes off his work. All the while she wondered how the picture was taking shape and couldn’t wait to see how it was progressing.
Almost an hour later he stopped work, stretched and then yawned.
‘That’s it for today. I’ve made a good start, and I might continue after tea if I can,’ he explained.
‘Oh that’s fine – take as long as you need. It’s the finished article I’m interested in, rather than how quickly it takes shape. Can I have a look yet?’ She asked earnestly.
‘No, no, no.’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘I never let anyone see my paintings until they’re finished.’
‘Shame.’
‘Don’t worry, Maria – it should be worth the wait.’
‘All right, keep me posted about how it’s going, won’t you?’
‘Of course, I’ll email you with progress reports,’ he said with a smile on his face.
She thanked him, then returned home.
As she set about making the tea, the portrait was all she could think about. It was almost as if the painting would bring Tim back into her life. Then just as the meal went in the oven, Bob rang to say he had to work late, and wouldn’t be back until after seven o’clock. Unperturbed, she told him she’d started their meal and would have to reheat his in the microwave when he got back. Then while she ate her own meal she watched a video showing excerpts of the three of them from when Tim was five up until the summer before he’d gone missing.
She’d switched off the light, and had been watching fervently with tears rolling down her cheeks, when the sound of Bob’s voice jerked her back to reality.
‘All right love?’ He switched on the light. ‘Happy memories, eh?�
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Sniffing back the tears, she tried hard to smile.
‘I wouldn’t watch that, if I were you, love - if it’s upsetting you like that.’
‘I’m fine. I’ve enjoyed watching it, but I’d give anything to have him back.’
‘So would I.’
‘Your tea’s in the microwave. Just boil the gravy if you want any more.’
‘Ok, fine.’ He disappeared into the kitchen.
While he ate his tea in the kitchen she again got immersed in viewing the video remembering happier times spent with their son.
Finally the tape finished. She took it out of the machine and placed it back in the draw. Then went into the kitchen to see Bob putting his plate into the sink to wash up. How tired he looked, she thought.
‘Busy day?’
‘Yeah, a bit. Looks like it’s a sign of things to come,’ he told her. ‘What with the run up to Christmas.’
‘Oh well, you can’t do much about that, can you?’
‘Not, really. So what have you been doing today apart from watching old movies?’
‘I went round to Alan’s with those photographs. We chose the one of Tim on the beach, with all that beautiful scenery in the background. He’s even started to sketch the painting, but said he won’t let me see it until it’s finished, which I found frustrating. He said he’ll tell me when it’s ready.’
‘Good, well if it turns out like that painting of his daughter on their wall, it’ll be something special.’
‘I have high hopes. His others are fantastic too – so life like.’
He grinned before going upstairs to change, but Maria got the impression he wasn’t really interested in what she was doing. She was hurt. He was humouring her - just going along with her idea. Had he given up on Tim? And if so, why? Perhaps the pressure of work was getting to him?
As the days passed Alan did indeed email Maria about the progress he was making with the painting. He’d finished the sketching and was painting in the face and the outline of the body. The more she heard the more curious she got and longed to creep next door and take a peek.
After four agonising weeks she received an email asking her to come round. At last maybe her wait was at an end.
As he opened the door she sensed an aura about him. He looked pleased with himself. ‘Hi-ya Maria, I expect you’re dying to see the painting – aren’t you?’
‘You know I am.’ She went inside the house.
‘Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but although Tim’s picture is finished, something is missing.’
‘And what’s that?’ Maria said. They walked together to the conservatory, and as he went over to the easel, where the painting was draped with a cloth, he motioned her to sit down, saying, ‘I’ve had an idea, and I hope you’ll approve.’
She wondered where this was leading and said, ‘Go on then, tell me.’
‘How about if I paint you into the picture, next to Tim, with your arm around him. What do you think?’
Maria was stunned, her mouth dropped open, almost lost for words. ‘I… I’d never even given that a thought… but yes, that would be nice.’
‘Great!’
‘So do you want a recent photograph of me?’
‘On the contrary, I’d like to do more than that. How about sitting for me? You’d have to spend a lot of time staying completely still, which I imagine will be terribly boring. I do realise you haven’t got time to sit for me indefinitely, so perhaps later I could take a few photographs of you, for when you can’t be here. Are you game?’
‘Er… yes… that would be fine,’ Maria said guardedly.
‘Good, so if you’re willing we could start straightaway, unless you have anything else on.’
‘No, I’ve only to make the tea for when Bob comes home from work.’
‘Excellent - let me get you a stool.’ He rushed to the kitchen to get one.
She sat down, feeling a little uncomfortable at first.
‘All right Maria, please relax. I know it’s not easy, but try to imagine you’re watching television or listening to music. Give me a natural look, happy but don’t smile. Good, look up slightly. That’s perfect.’
‘I’m not sure I can keep this up for hours on end.’
‘Come on, please try, you’ll be great.’ And he began to sketch the outline of her face and body.
She wasn’t sure she liked him constantly looking at her, but would put up with it for the sake of the painting.
‘Maria; you really do have a lovely face. Your complexion is like porcelain, then there’s your small sensuous mouth, big blue eyes, thick brown hair and such a feminine figure.’ And he hesitated before adding, ‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’d be great to paint in the nude.’
‘You’ve got to be joking Alan, you fool.’ She smirked uneasily, if not a little alarmed and also embarrassed. And couldn’t help but think what an odd thing to say.
‘Oh don’t worry, I wasn’t suggesting it – just thinking out aloud. Sorry if I offended you.’
She didn’t find this amusing but in the end said, ‘No, I’m not. I’m flattered but I can’t say I agree with you – I am almost forty after all. Come on Alan, concentrate on the job in hand – and stop messing about.’
‘Of course, you’ll want this picture finished as soon as possible.’
‘I would. Can’t wait to put it on the wall in our bedroom.’
He smiled and set to work.
This was the pattern of events for the next few weeks. Maria sat for one hour stretches, two or three times a week, finding it so difficult to keep still and maintain the same facial expression. Alan talked to her a lot, giving her encouragement, and making her laugh with silly anecdotes.
She didn’t mind being in his company, and thankfully all mention of posing naked was forgotten. Neither of them mentioned their own personal tragedy, but she sensed his happy jovial manner was a front to cover up his loneliness.
She too had felt lonely in recent weeks, what with Bob engrossed in his work and her family miles away, the need to confide in someone was never far away. But was unsure whether Alan was that person.
Chapter 17
Bob had known about the portrait of Tim from the onset. And when Alan suggested Maria should be included in the painting, he took an instant dislike to the man. The thought of them spending time together didn’t go down well, but he trusted his wife implicitly, and besides that she was so preoccupied with Tim little else came into her mind.
His new job wasn’t at all what he’d expected either. The thriving town of Cliffburn was nothing like sleepy Dexford. Life was much more hectic, he was so busy, and constantly bogged down with irate customers expecting the earth after claiming for the most trivial of things. Added to this he suspected the number of bogus claims here was higher.
One of the objectives of the job was to sell more insurance for the ‘just in case scenario’, to customers who didn’t need or want it. This rankled him but he had to accept this job was more target driven in terms of the amount of insurance sold.
He sat in front of Toni Lake, another Insurance Advisor who he’d got to know quite well. In her late twenties, she was a little chubby, short with dyed blond spiky hair and dark brown eyes. An olive complexion suggested Italian blood might run through her veins. She’d recently spilt up from her boyfriend of five years, and was forever talking about her ex, to the point where it annoyed him.
‘Penny for them?’ She asked.
‘What?’ He replied as if he’d been deep in thought.
‘Sorry Bob, but you were somewhere else just then. Got something on your mind?’
‘It’s Maria,’ he admitted. ‘And her reaction to Tim’s disappearance. She won’t let go – and it’s getting me down.’
‘That’s understandable though, isn’t it? I expect it must have hit you both very hard. To be honest I don’t know how you’ve coped as well as you have.’
‘Well, the last six months have been absolut
e torture. It wasn’t only Tim going missing, but other things. Like being accused of killing our own son. And to top that our awful neighbours got hold of a video showing a couple, burying what looked like a body in the back garden, claiming it was us. Of course it was a lie. Living up here hasn’t been easy either – in fact Maria never seems to think of anything else but Tim. Sometimes I wonder what’s coming next. And this job… well it’s unbelievable.’ He shook his head.
‘You learn to live with it, Bob. Some customers make you want to tear your hair out, but they’re only on the other end of the phone – they can’t see you, and will never know who you are. If you keep your cool, there’s no come back.’
‘You’re right, but perhaps it’s getting to me, because of everything else going on in my life.’
‘Sounds like you could do with a holiday.’
‘I wish. But not the way Maria’s acting these days. She won’t go, not while Tim’s missing.’
‘Then I don’t know what to suggest. Maybe she needs to see a doctor or a counsellor?’
‘Sure if I could get her to go. And she doesn’t want to get herself a job. Insists on stopping at home in case Tim comes back. And refuses to believe that’s unlikely to happen.’
‘You should take her out more, to the cinema, or a meal, anywhere to help take her mind off your son.’
‘That’s easier said than done,’ he sighed.
‘Hey, I’ve just had a brainwave. We’re all going out bowling next week – why don’t you both come? She could meet a few of us, be part of the girls team. It might bring her out of herself.’
‘Well, I could ask the question.’ He replied.
On his way home that night, the idea started to grow on him, and he decided to mention it to her.
Like so many times of late when he arrived home Maria was at her computer working. When he spoke, she mumbled a reply – she was so preoccupied.
Sitting down on the sofa he wondered if she’d cooked any tea, or had she forgotten again. Feeling a little irritable, and about to ask what she was doing, he was surprised when she said, ‘Come over here and have a look at this, Bob.’