by Ali Carter
Fergus marched straight back out the room.
‘Whose birthday is it anyway?’ said Shane.
‘Sorry?’ Zoe was confused.
He pointed at a small pile next to her. ‘All those gifts.’
There were chocolates, a scented candle, posh soap and a jar of honey.
‘Oh these,’ said Zoe, laying a hand on top of them all. ‘They’re presents from Felicity, Jane and Rupert.’
‘But why?’
‘Sometimes,’ said Rupert, ‘when one goes to stay with people one takes a present for the hostess.’
‘House gifts to say thank you,’ said Felicity.
‘I never expected to receive any presents. These three have spoilt me.’
‘Susie,’ said Rupert, ‘are we going for the usual start time, in the music room?’
‘Yes, and we’ll be using watercolour so please fill your pots, arrange your paper and have your rags ready by ten.’
Felicity looked flustered until Jane flapped her hand across the table and insisted she had enough to share.
‘Louis,’ Zoe smiled, ‘you do look rather tired. Did Ewen force you to stay up awfully late? He’s a terrible night owl.’
Louis winked at her. I was a little put out.
‘We had a lot to catch up on,’ he said. ‘I’ll perk up after another cup of coffee.’
Rupert stood up. ‘I’m going to get a breath of fresh air before we begin. Anyone want to join me?’
‘Yes please.’ I jumped at the chance to see a bit more of our surroundings.
‘Right then. I’ll go get suited and booted and I’ll meet you out the front.’
‘Great.’
‘Susie?’ Zoe beckoned me to her side.
‘Yes?’
‘Have you found an opportunity to draw Haggis yet?’
Oh crumbs, I’d actually forgotten she’d asked me…‘No, not yet.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, maybe this morning’s your chance. Take him on a walk with you now, then he’ll sit still for you later. He should keep to heel so don’t worry about a lead.’
It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, and as soon as we took off down the back drive Rupert told me my nose had gone pink.
Auchen Laggan Tosh sits in a copse of Douglas firs, planted, according to Fergus, in the eighteenth century to offer protection from the bleak winter weather. There was an abundance of lichen on the bark and Haggis was ferreting around, hopefully tiring himself out. I’d set the pace, I wanted to try and reach Ewen’s house before turning back.
‘Building up some heat in here,’ said Rupert, unzipping his heavy tweed coat. Empty cartridges rattled around in his pocket prompting a rhapsody on shooting. ‘I can never get enough of pulling birds out of the sky. Quite the best sport ever invented. I love it. Stalking too.’
We emerged from the Douglas firs and continued, guarded on either side by Scots pines. A rabbit ran across the drive and Rupert swung his arms as if aiming a gun.
‘I’d have got that bunny for sure.’
I feigned an agreeable sound but it was drowned out by the piercing shrill of a bird. Caw, caw, caw stopped us in our tracks.
‘What’s that?’ I looked up. ‘I heard exactly the same noise the night I arrived.’
‘Ghastly, isn’t it. There. A raven.’ Rupert pointed at a flash of sky between the trees. ‘Oh look, there are two. Rather marvellous watching them frolic.’
A pair of birds, way up above us, were tipping and turning their wings as they croaked at each other.
‘They’re courting,’ said Rupert. ‘Monogamous like us.’
‘How sweet.’
‘Don’t be mistaken. They’re scavengers at heart. Can you see the twiggy ball at the top of that tree to the left?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a nest, lined with rubbish I bet. They pick up anything twinkly. Would snatch a Kit Kat wrapper straight out your hand.’
‘What about a piece of jewellery?’
He laughed. ‘Only if you left it lying on the ground.’
Yes, I thought, this I’ve seen happen.
As we walked on Rupert didn’t draw breath on the subject. ‘They live off carrion. Would pick the tongue out of a dead man. Heaven knows why they’re protected. Highly intelligent but horrible birds. There seems to be an explosion of them around here.’
We turned a z bend and came upon a cottage.
‘That must be where Ewen lives,’ I said.
‘Shall we rat-a-tat-tat at his door?’
‘Why not.’
A few seconds later and Ewen was standing in the frame, wrapped up in a red tartan dressing gown.
‘Wow,’ he gasped, ‘I did not expect to see you two.’
‘Rather bumptious of us to appear on your doorstep like this,’ said Rupert, grabbing hold of Haggis’s collar, ‘but Susie and I thought why not.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘We didn’t mean to get you out of bed.’
‘No, no. I’m up. Just not dressed.’
‘Susie,’ said Rupert, looking at his watch, ‘we have precisely nine minutes to spare.’
‘Oh,’ said Ewen. ‘Would you like to come in?’
‘Yes please,’ I said. ‘That would be great.’
‘Well,’ Ewen yawned, ‘leave Haggis in the porch and come this way into the sitting room.’
He flung open the curtains of the bay window and the early morning light lit up two lovely landscapes either side of the fireplace.
‘These are very attractive,’ I said, getting up close. ‘Who’s the artist?’
‘Eerie,’ muttered Rupert.
‘Cameron,’ said Ewen. ‘D. Y. Cameron. They’re twentieth century and if you look at this one,’ I went to his side, ‘the group of hills in the background are called Beinn Eighe. Not far from here. On a good day you can see them from Fergus’s terrace.’
‘Really?’ said Rupert.
‘Yes, the white quartzite sparkles.’
‘I’ve never seen a mountain like that.’
‘No mountains in Scotland,’ said Ewen. ‘They’re either called hills, beinns or munroes.’
‘I never knew.’
‘Not many people do.’
‘Hey Rupert,’ I said, ‘come closer and look at the subdued colours, they might help you this afternoon.’
‘You’ll have to give me more to go on than that,’ he said, winking at Ewen.
‘Okay then. See how few colours there are?’ I asked.
‘Blue. It’s all varying shades of blue.’
‘Atmospheric perspective,’ said Ewen, taking over. ‘As things recede their colour becomes less saturated. They assume the background colour. Bluer like the sky.’
‘I see.’
‘Unless you’re painting a sunset. Then you make the object paler and redder.’
‘I thought you were a photographer. Do you paint too?’
‘I am an occasional painter. I did a photography course to help me understand paintings.’
‘Why?’ said Rupert.
‘I knew if I learnt to take good pictures of paintings, I could then work from them back home. You know, dissect them, leave the emotion of the real thing aside and understand the technical details. It helps me get better quicker.’
‘Yes,’ I said, knowing exactly what he meant. Often when I visit art galleries I stand side on to a painting, getting as close as I can in order to see how the paint’s applied, what ground it’s on and whether it’s varnished or not. Much like Oliver was doing this morning. I’ve always bought postcards in the shop to work from at home but I suppose a very good photograph would be better, that way I could zoom in, get really close to the detail.
‘If you know how to work a camera,’ Ewen directed his comment at Rupert, ‘you can make an incredibly good reproduction and study it at home to your heart’s content. Problem is,’ he joked against himself, ‘despite doing a course, I’m not very good at photography.’
‘Well, if you paint,’ said Rupe
rt, ‘you should join our afternoon class.’
‘Susie doesn’t look so sure about that.’
‘The thing is,’ I said nervously, ‘everyone’s paying to come on this week and I think if you were to join in it would change the dynamics and perhaps, if you don’t mind me saying, it might appear as if you were taking advantage.’
‘Good point,’ said Rupert.
‘That’s exactly what it would be…me taking advantage of you being here. Don’t worry, I’ll keep out of it.’
‘Thanks,’ I smiled.
A loud whine came from the porch.
‘Rupert, it’s probably time we made our way back.’
He turned to Ewen. ‘Would you mind if I had a quick glass of water first? I’m feeling rather parched.’
‘Sure, come.’ Ewen took us down a dull corridor into a mint green kitchen. ‘Not a patch on my brother’s pile, eh?’
‘Easy to manage,’ said Rupert.
There was a laptop on the table. I could just make out a progress bar on the screen – ‘Downloading original. ZIP 500 GB 6hrs remaining’. What a massive file. I wonder if it has anything to do with Zoe’s internet allowance?
‘Susie?’ Ewen snapped and I looked away. ‘Water?’
‘No thanks.’
‘Jolly glad we knocked,’ said Rupert. ‘Any chance we can have a quick look at your studio?’
‘Nope.’
‘I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn.’
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We really must go.’
Ewen stood on the step waving us off as Haggis bolted back up the drive.
‘Left right, left right,’ boomed Rupert. ‘We mustn’t be late for class.’
Cailey swaggered into the room, five minutes late, without an apology.
‘Hiya everybody,’ she grinned with a smile so huge one couldn’t not be charmed.
‘Cailey,’ I said as she reached for her belt, ‘there’s no need to get undressed today. We’re going to concentrate on your head.’
‘Whatever yous wan’t I’ll do.’
‘Thanks. Pop your bag over there and then come sit on this stool…’
Jane interrupted, ‘So, we’re painting a portrait, are we?’
‘Yes, a head study in watercolour.’
Shane began to move his easel behind the stool. ‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘You have to get a view of her face.’
He shuffled round next to the others and Cailey came to sit down.
‘This do youse okay?’
‘Absolutely great. You have such good posture, but can you really hold a pose like that?’
‘I’ll give it a wee go, Susie.’
‘Okay, thanks. Right, everyone, you can either start by drawing a very light outline in pencil or go straight in with watercolour.’
‘Which would you suggest?’ said Felicity.
‘I’d encourage you to do whatever you feel most comfortable with. Have you all used watercolour before?’
Only Minty said ‘yes’.
Dammit, what a pain. I’m tired and lacking enthusiasm to run a step-by-step class. But I must, so when Lianne asked, ‘Do you think you could show us, Susie? You can use my paper, I’ve got loads more,’ I picked up a pencil and ran through the steps.
‘That ain’t look anything like her, Miss.’
‘It will, I’m not worried about getting a likeness at this stage.’
Lianne handed me a brush. I dip-dabbed it in water and paint, and began building an impression of Cailey’s colourful face.
‘I reckon I can do that, Miss.’
‘Well, there you go, but it’s very important you only put down what you see. So, look hard and don’t rush like me, we have all morning.’
‘Can we play some music?’ asked Lianne.
‘As long as it’s not ghastly modern junk,’ said Rupert.
‘What about jazz?’ suggested Louis. ‘I can get my iPod and speaker if you want?’
‘If everyone’s okay with that?’ I looked around the room. ‘Then Louis, do you mind if I go get it? I don’t want you to fall behind.’
‘Sure. It’s on the dressing table in my room.’
Louis’ bedroom, the Blue Room replete with light blue peely-wallpaper, curtains to match and a very ropey tasselled blue canopy over a mahogany four-poster bed, was like walking into a sensual cloud. The huge space was filled with the most delicious aftershave. I inhaled deeply. I love aftershave.
The iPod and speaker were next to a lovely old three-part mirror in a gilt frame. I bent down to try it out. The depth of reflection in this is so much better than modern equivalents. Ow, I blooming well stubbed my toe on something very hard. It was behind the curtain under the table.
I dragged it out, a big black case with a sophisticated camera and three lenses inside. It was nosey of me to have a look, but I wanted to know. I pushed it back in place, and with iPod and speaker in hand, I left the room.
The corridor felt cold so I put the things on the console table and rushed to my room to get a jumper.
I don’t think it was the speed I was going that made me trip and I don’t think it was my trip that loosened the floorboard in my room. It caught me unawares and I’m now a crumpled heap on the floor. The board stuck up like a wobbly front tooth, so I grappled my fingers round the front edge and, easy as pie, it came free. I can’t actually believe it was that easy to do. If it had always been loose, I would have tripped up days ago. So, who’s been in my room?
I pushed my hand into the shallow hole. There was nothing in it but dust, which I brushed off my fingertips as I popped the board back in place. After repeatedly stamping it down with my foot, failing to get it flush, I gave up and rushed back downstairs to the music room.
‘Great,’ said Louis, ‘just press play, no need to change the soundtrack.’
Rupert was staring at my knees. ‘Did you fall?’
‘Just tripped on a loose board in my room.’ I looked around the class. No one gave a flicker of guilt and as I bent down to brush the scuff marks off my tights Felicity made a concerned sound and Louis raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘Are you okay?’
Break arrived and Cailey had a good shake, stretching out her jaw, relieved not to have to hold still a moment longer. I looked at everyone’s pictures and as the talent varied considerably I decided not to open a discussion at this point – I didn’t want to put anyone off.
‘If you’re all happy carrying this through till lunchtime then let’s continue.’
Cailey nodded and the class resumed.
‘We’ll be stopping at half past twelve today as we’re going up on the moor and we need to get back for an early dinner.’
‘Youse all coming to see me show?’ said Cailey.
‘Yes,’ I smiled. ‘We’re going to bring our sketchbooks too.’
‘Youse’ll have plenty of nudes to draw.’
‘Lush,’ said Giles and a few people giggled. Crumbs, I thought, maybe burlesque is different in Scotland.
The class was quiet, everyone was working hard, so I decided now would be a good moment to go and sketch Haggis. I don’t need long, ten minutes or so to get an impression.
‘I’ll be out in the hall for the time being. Come find me if you’re really struggling.’
The dog was slumped against the front door, basking in a spot of sunlight shining down from the cupola. This seemed to me a rather good pose, so I took the risk of not moving him in the hopes no one would enter for the time being. All I need is a sketch and some photographs. I much prefer to finish a pet portrait at home.
I crouched down and my rubber slipped from my hands, bouncing across the hall, disappearing behind an empty umbrella stand. Thankfully Haggis didn’t flinch and when I went to retrieve it, I found lying next to it a spirit level – the perfect instrument for drawing an even-sided frame on my piece of paper. An outline helps such a lot with composition. So, sitting cross-legged, I began to draw. What a sweet dog he is. His left ear was raised, his head slightly cocked an
d his eyes glistened as I worked.
I scribbled down the composition and even managed to take several photographs before he moved.
‘Good doggie,’ I said as I placed the spirit level on the hall table and then bent down to stroke his soft coat. Haggis followed me to the music room door and I felt guilty going in and shutting him out.
When the watercolour session ended I had everyone lay their pictures on the floor for a quick crit.
‘Do you mind if I scoot?’ said Cailey.
‘No, not all. Thank you very much for modelling today.’
‘Byeee.’ She grabbed her stuff and swaggered out the room on the tail end of everyone’s thank yous.
‘Right, come look at the pictures. You can ask me anything you want.’
‘Are you single?’ said Shane, and even I laughed.
‘Well?’ said Louis.
‘Come on, I meant you can ask anything about painting. You’ve all put in such a lot of effort this morning.’
‘What I want to know,’ whined Felicity, ‘is how Minty got such delicate colours.’
‘Minty?’
‘I think it’s because I used a lot more water.’
‘But I tried to use a lot of water and look at mine,’ grumbled Lianne. ‘It’s all blotchy.’
‘What sort of brush were you using?’
‘Here.’ She handed it to me.
‘This is a synthetic brush. Minty, is yours sable?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sable holds water better than synthetic so it gives a much smoother, more even spread of colour.’
Lianne wrote down the name on the back of her hand. I didn’t like to tell her quite how expensive these brushes are. Every artist, no matter how much money they have, has to weigh up performance and cost. The reality is, the more you spend the better the equipment and natural versus synthetic is no comparison.
‘Louis,’ said Rupert, ‘why have you painted more of her jumper than her face?’
‘I thought it’d be easier,’ he shrugged.
‘Cheat,’ said Jane.
‘Not true,’ I said. ‘Painting is interpreting what’s in front of you any way you want. That’s why pictures reveal so much about a person’s character.’
‘Yes,’ said Jane. ‘Louis is a cheat.’
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ said Felicity. ‘You and I would have done better concentrating on the jumper.’