by Rosie Blake
The scheme has been launched and Lottie and Luke were present and correct at the whist drive in the hall. You would have loved seeing them there surrounded by blue rinses and our friends. I’m not completely convinced it was the triumphant success I hoped it would be but when they left they seemed comfortable and happy, Luke giving me a discreet thumbs-up and Lottie grinning up at him. I do believe one of them let slip our little arrangement, as worryingly Paula sidled over to me at the end of the night and although she said she was just returning her glass to the table I wasn’t completely sure she wasn’t trying to grab my buttock. It was rather alarming.
Geoffrey was suitably hopeless and we lost, of course we did. Arjun seemed quieter than normal perhaps, a little less energy this evening. Perhaps he is coming down with something? He was cross with me for not taking the D3 tablets he foisted on us a year ago now. The bottle hadn’t been opened. I know he misses you and I enjoy sharing stories about you with him. Howard is, of course, the same: brash and ever-present. He has been telling me all the gory details from his own dating life – that man really is reprehensible.
I’ve got an absurd list of ideas to try and you would boggle at what people have to do these days to meet somebody. And there are so many ways it can go awry! Have you heard of breadcrumbing? I won’t go into it, it is too horrifying. Oh, Cora, I wish you were here to laugh and cuff me round the ear. How I miss being endlessly teased by you, how I miss sharing this space and all the stories with you. How I miss you.
Teddy
Chapter 10
Love is the seed from which happiness grows
SOPHIE, 86
Grandad had texted me an address in Wimbledon and a start time for our next mysterious event a few days later. I left chambers feeling nervy, anticipation swirling in my stomach. I wondered if Luke was feeling the same way. I imagined a candlelit restaurant, discreet waiters, the kind of place that gives you an impossibly small but completely delicious amuse-bouche on a large white dinner plate.
Or perhaps we were due to see a movie together, a silent film or something from back in the day? Curled up in an oldfashioned cinema, hands sneaking into each other’s. Feeling the flutter of excitement as I pondered the options made me realise Luke and I rarely made plans to do anything together. We would go for an impromptu dinner or some drinks in a pub but we didn’t schedule in evenings like this. I smoothed my skirt and applied a fresh coat of pale pink lipstick on the Tube, feeling pleased that for once I wasn’t late.
I hadn’t reckoned on Luke being late. He was almost as assiduous as Amy about punctuality, so it was with some surprise that I turned up at Wimbledon tube station to be greeted by a grovelling text message telling me he would meet me at the venue. My stomach grumbled as I walked past numerous restaurants, mouth-watering smells emerging every time the doors were opened. Following the line on my map I failed to notice the rain until I felt the drops trickling down my neck and under my jacket, and by then it was a downpour. Sheltering under a bus stop, hair frizzing, feeling damp and borderline starving, I felt my good mood quickly evaporate.
The venue turned out to be a room at the very top of a vegan café. Moving down the corridor past signs for henna tattoos, meditation retreats, cupping and more, I patted at my hair as I climbed up the stairs, images of the candlelit dinner fading in my mind. Peeking through the square of glass in the door I was heartened to see Grandad, Howard and Geoffrey all huddled in one corner by a trestle table filled with glasses and jugs of squash. I wondered where Arjun was. I wasn’t used to seeing them as a threesome. Also Geoffrey looked pale and nervous, fiddling with the buttons on his coat, eyes flicking left to right as Howard and Grandad seemed immersed in conversation.
Frowning, I pushed open the door and headed their way before being intercepted by a lady with a blonde beehive, dressed in a turquoise tunic and wearing bright orange lipstick.
In a thick Eastern European accent she asked, ‘You are new to class?’
Class? Images of vintage cinemas, shared popcorn or amuse-bouche melted in front of me.
I looked closely at the other tables lining the walls, now taking in the tubes of paint, the jam jars filled with paintbrushes, the wooden boards, boxes of charcoal and stacks of blank paper.
‘Art,’ I said aloud, thoughts of dinner now well and truly drained away. My stomach grumbled. If it was a still life it would be in danger of getting eaten.
‘You have very good aura, creative soul,’ the lady said, her nostrils flaring as if she was trying to suck my aura into her.
‘Er, thank you.’
‘Are you beginner or more advanced?’
‘Oh, well, I did Art GCSE.’ I shrugged, distracted by Howard who was crossing behind her. ‘But I only got a C. I did a picture of a windmill, though. I thought it was quite good.’
‘What is windmill?’
‘Oh you know, a—’ I started doing wild hand movements, the Beehive lady’s eyes widening in alarm.
‘I do not know it. You get pencil and sit in circle.’
‘Right, okey doke, thanks so much.’ I seem to have been transformed into a female Hugh Grant. I was relieved to see Grandad and his friends heading my way.
The Blonde Beehive nodded and moved off.
‘So you’ve met Aleksandra,’ Teddy said, indicating her back. ‘Cora used to love her classes. She is very good at charcoals. We thought you and Luke might enjoy the experience, something to do together, something to talk about . . . ’
I looked at the strip lights overhead, the table of squash and plastic cups, then back at the three old men staring at me expectantly, and wondered how romantic this could be.
‘And just pretend we’re not here, we’ll be quiet as mice,’ Howard said in his booming voice.
I put my hands on my hips. ‘I won’t hold my breath.’
‘What? We can do subtle,’ Howard whispered.
‘You’re about as subtle as a red suit at a funeral,’ Grandad told him.
‘Where’s Arjun?’ I asked, looking around the room.
Geoffrey blushed red and Grandad and Howard started laughing. My face moved into a frown.
‘He’s, he’s on his way,’ Howard said, clapping me so hard on the back I stumbled forward.
Grandad was smirking at something and I narrowed my eyes at them and looked around the room. What was so funny? Then I was distracted as a tall, good-looking man blustering his apologies to the lady with the beehive appeared in the doorway: Luke had arrived.
She was clutching his upper arms as she spoke to him and I could see him gesturing to me with a nod of his head. She released him and he made his way over, the ghost of a smile on his face.
‘Hey,’ I said as he kissed me.
‘Hey. That lady just told me I had a creative soul.’ Luke puffed out his chest and I opened my mouth before snapping it shut again. I didn’t want to deflate this happy man.
‘So, an art class,’ Luke said to Grandad, who shook his hand in greeting.
‘You both go and get some materials and find a place to sit,’ he said.
Luke was full of energy, jacket shrugged off, eyes firmly on the table with all the art materials. ‘This is a great idea. I wonder what we’re drawing? Maybe each other.’ Luke turned to waggle both eyebrows at me.
‘You’re a geek,’ I said, grinning as he leant in for a second kiss.
Howard gave me a thumbs-up as he moved away and I tried not to feel too self-conscious. People were settling in the large circle, easels in front of them, fixing paper to their wooden boards with masking tape. I turned back to Luke to suggest we got going and started at the new expression on his face. His eyes were bulging, and a rare blush was creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.
‘What is it?’ I frowned.
Luke’s eyes started darting around the room as if they couldn’t decide where to rest before choosing the floor as he mumbled, ‘There’s anakedarjun.’
‘A snake?’ I squealed, hand on my chest, ready to leap into his ar
ms.
‘No, anakedarjun,’ he hissed and I waited, panting as the words sank in before turning slowly on the spot.
Ah.
A naked man.
A very naked old man.
A very naked old smiling man.
A very naked old smiling man who was waving at us.
Arjun.
‘Christ,’ I murmured, waving back uncertainly, unable to stop looking at Arjun’s penis. I turned to Luke. ‘That is Arjun and . . . that’s his cock.’
Luke’s mouth twitched and I saw tears fill his eyes as he pressed his lips together.
In the corner, Howard, Geoffrey and Grandad were practically bursting with suppressed laughter, hands clutching their sides as they stared at us and back at Arjun.
‘What is going on?’ I said out of the corner of my mouth.
‘I think this is Life Art,’ Luke hazarded a guess. ‘Or we really need to take Arjun to see somebody.’
Beehive Blonde Aleksandra started clapping in the middle of the circle. ‘Welcome to today’s session and we ready for great, great time,’ she said, indicating Arjun. ‘Arjun today model and we going to work on shadows. I come round and show you how, as am very good artist.’
Trying desperately hard to hold it together and act nonchalant, we collected up an easel, board, paper and charcoal box and moved to join the group.
Every now and again my eyes would flick to Geoffrey, who looked like he wished his narrow wooden chair would be swallowed by the floor; Howard, who was doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn’t perpetually pissing himself, and my grandad, who seemed relaxed with the whole situation and kept nodding at me encouragingly.
The next hour was spent furiously charcoaling, trying to draw Arjun without actually looking at him, sort of like the sun on a hot day.
Aleksandra would appear behind us at intervals murmuring encouragements. ‘Ah very good around the groin region, you might want to make bigger the pubic hair.’ But there were moments when I forgot who Arjun was, and instead enjoyed shading the muscles in the legs and trying to make the sketch on the piece of paper resemble the person in front of me. Mostly, though, I loved watching Luke, fiercely competitive and creative, shading and sketching with precision. When he held up his pencil horizontally, tongue clamped between his teeth, I started to laugh.
‘Whatcha doing?’
His tongue disappeared. ‘I’m just working out the proportions.’
Satisfied, he returned to the page, and when I looked down I gasped. His picture was wonderful.
‘I didn’t know you could draw.’
‘Lottie, I’m a graphic designer.’
‘Well, yes, but . . . this is really artistic, you’ve totally captured the expression on his face, and he is all in proportion. My Arjun looks like a star in the next Hobbit franchise.’ I pointed to the stubby legs on my paper and then focused back on Luke’s. He looked bashful as I continued, ‘Honestly, that is brilliant, you should do more of this.’
Finally the hour and a half was up and Arjun was given a towel to wrap around himself as we all packed our materials away.
Grandad headed over, a tentative look on his face. ‘Have you enjoyed yourselves?’
Luke was flushed with pleasure as the men gathered round to compliment his art skills. Trying to detract from himself he encouraged them all to show us their sketches.
Geoffrey hadn’t brought his glasses. ‘A sort of relief really,’ he said cheerfully, holding up his picture, which looked like a Ken doll.
‘Where’s his . . . you know?’ Luke said.
Geoffrey shrugged. ‘Couldn’t see it.’
Howard had drawn a penguin. It was pretty good. He’d found the time to sketch a dramatic backdrop of ice and mountains too.
‘Why the penguin, Howard? Is that a surrealist take on the evening?’
Howard shook his head. ‘No, no, it’s just I can only really draw penguins so I gave up on Arjun early on. He was that penguin,’ he said, pointing to a small penguin near an iceberg.
Packing up to leave I rolled my picture into a tube container that Luke had been given by Aleksandra, who was now gushing and discussing chiaroscuro with him, her pencilled eyes animated as she touched him on the arm.
‘A talent, a talent,’ she cooed as she passed me, stopping to simply nod at my Hobbit-Arjun. ‘It will come,’ she said briskly.
I rolled my eyes at Luke, who seemed to have grown two inches taller in the last couple of hours. He threw an arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my hair.
‘Shall we head off? Thanks, Teddy, for organising it.’
Grandad gave me a hug. ‘Well done, Lottie darling. You survived.’
I laughed. ‘Just about, although a little warning might have been nice.’
‘Well, I hope you enjoyed it. We thought you should do more together. These days it’s all rushed TV dinners and Netflix and Chill.’
My eyes practically popped out of my skull. ‘Grandad, do you know what Netflix . . . actually, don’t answer that.’
‘We were thinking of things you and Luke could share, do together. Grandma brought me along once. It was watercolours. We painted the Seine.’
‘That might have been better, Grandad,’ I said, imagining sketching the Eiffel Tower rather than Arjun’s appendage.
‘All I remember from that class is sitting beside her creating something, and her laughing at my terrible attempts. And Arjun is always keen to get us to come along to one of these classes so we thought, why not?’
‘I can think of one good reason.’
‘Oh, Arjun loves to get naked. He is always stripping down in the golfing changing rooms. We’ve become very used to it.’
Another insight into my grandad’s life.
‘And this way he can supplement his income: his pension is pathetic.’
We finally managed to escape and I enjoyed the feel of Luke’s hand in mine as we walked down the street, the lights reflected on the wet pavement, cars and buses moving by, other couples and groups out for dinner, chat from restaurants, live music coming from the inside of a nearby bar, the smell of onions and petrol clashing in the air.
‘I’m not in the mood to go home quite yet,’ Luke said, squeezing my hand, the other holding a bag with our pictures rolled up. ‘Let me treat you to dinner.’
My stomach rumbled, coupled with a momentary panic about the work mounting up, the things I had to do. Then I thought of our evening together. Grandad had been right, it had been nice to share it with Luke. I pushed all other thoughts away as I leaned in towards him. ‘That sounds perfect.’
Chapter 11
Love is thinking you know someone well and them still surprising you
PEG, 88
I slid the shower doors open.
‘Sooooo, what’s the surprise?’
‘Oh my God, Lottie.’ A naked Luke looked out at me, the shower steaming up the mirror as he pushed back his slick hair. ‘For the eighteenth time, you’ll have to wait and see.’
Water was sprayed in my face before I giggled and turned away. I felt giddy with it. The whole day stretching ahead, Luke being all mysterious. Recently I had started to crave these days: our times together. We had been on a wonderful treasure hunt in Hyde Park, an evening at the ballet, a champagne-fuelled picnic that had ended in the pub when it started to rain. This morning he had woken me up early despite it being a Saturday and told me to get ready for a surprise. I had been badgering him about it every minute since.
‘What should I wear?’
‘Actually your grandad told me to give you something. Hold on.’
I waited in my matching lemon yellow bra and pants as Luke moved across to our shared wardrobe and pulled out a plastic clothes cover.
‘Here you go. Shoes are at your discretion. Also I like your pants.’ He slapped me on the bottom and I felt the sudden urge to kiss him.
Instead I unzipped the cover and pulled out a mustard yellow tea dress, pale pink roses printed on the fabric, one of
the dresses I had commented on that day at Grandad’s when we had been clearing out Grandma’s clothes.
‘Oh, he kept on to it,’ I said, holding it up.
‘That’s a pretty dress.’ Luke looked up from the chest of drawers.
‘It was Grandma’s.’ I felt a lump in my throat as I carefully pulled the dress down over my head, wiggling into the sleeves. It fitted perfectly: the waist cinched in a flattering away, the skirt skimmed my hips, the right mid-thigh length.
‘Could you?’ I indicated the back of the dress, twelve carefully sewn buttons leading to a V-neck back.
‘You look hot,’ Luke confirmed, coming over to button up the dress and staring at me in the mirror, his arms circling my waist for a second as he dropped a kiss on my shoulder.
I felt a warmth flood through me as I looked at our reflection. ‘So . . . what’s the surprise?’
Luke pushed me gently away, ‘Nice try. You thought I’d be all blinded by your beauty and reveal all but I’m too clever for you, Lottie Campbell. I am wise to your games . . . and also I need to get dressed too now.’
He turned and stepped into his trousers, before buttoning up a pale blue cotton shirt, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. I sat at the dressing table applying blusher and eyeshadow, enjoying blending the pinks and browns to complement the dress. It had been ages since I had taken time to do my face and I was enjoying it. With a last flick of mascara I stared back at myself, my cheeks flushed, the shadows under my eyes gone, my hair newly washed, fringe combed.