‘Two hours, with half an hour in the middle for refreshments.’
‘I reckon it’ll take me about ten minutes,’ he murmured, eyeing up the other artists.
There were about fifteen in all, and the low buzz of conversation filled the air. When Melanie clapped her hands and called for quiet, the room fell silent, the chatter replaced by excited expectation – although what was exciting about a wannabe settee, Walter couldn’t imagine.
Melanie said, ‘I told you I would have a treat for you, and I know speculation has been rife.’ She smiled widely. ‘I think many of you have guessed what we’re going to be drawing today, so before I bring our model in, I just want to say please don’t be embarrassed. The naked human form is the most natural and beautiful thing there is, no matter the age, the shape, or the gender. My advice is to forget that you’re drawing a person and concentrate on capturing the essence and the form. Are we ready?’
A chorus of agreement filled the room, but Walter didn’t join in. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this.
His fears were confirmed when Melanie opened a door, and cried, ‘Artists, here is your model for today – Stanley!’
Walter’s horror when Stanley Childs strode into the room, was only exceeded when Stanley removed his robe with a flourish and stood before them with a big grin on his face.
Stanley was naked.
Beth wasn’t normally a blusher but when she had caught sight of Stanley in all his proud nakedness, she had felt a whoosh of heat flooding her cheeks. Maybe if she had been more prepared, she wouldn’t have reacted as strongly. Walter had let out a gasp along with the other artists, but whilst there had been a flutter of giggles from the rest, he had scowled.
Afterwards, the two of them had immediately fled to The Black Horse for a restorative pint.
Despite having downed half of his ale, Walter looked haunted. Beth might have felt the same if she had spent two hours staring at Stanley’s spread-eagled figure, legs akimbo, giving Walter a first-class view of the man’s tackle.
‘Brazen,’ Walter muttered, reaching for his pint and taking a gulp.
Thankfully, Beth’s easel had given her a slightly less graphic view, although she had a feeling she might think twice about buying sausages again. Beth suspected that even Melanie, who was probably more used to seeing random naked strangers, had been taken aback by the glee with which Stanley displayed himself. She’d also had a bit of a to-do trying to persuade him to cover up during the interval. It had been enough to put Beth off the Ginger Nuts (an unfortunate choice of biscuit, under the circumstances) although she did rally enough to manage a plain digestive.
‘No more art classes,’ Walter declared. He had a wild look about his eyes, and Beth could swear his hand was shaking.
‘I thought your drawing was rather good.’ He shot her a disbelieving look, so she added, ‘You captured his expression perfectly. Melanie said it was an interesting caricature.’
Walter had drawn a disembodied head, with an exaggerated Cheshire cat smile and jug ears. Despite it being cartoon-like, it was clearly recognisable as Stanley. Stanley hadn’t been amused when he’d seen it, despite Melanie advising him not to look at any of the drawings, and Walter had been on the receiving end of a venomous look.
Stanley hadn’t been too enamoured of Beth’s attempt either. Despite being able to see Stanley’s proudest assets (although she had thought his pride somewhat misplaced), Beth had given him an Action Man anatomy where it counted.
‘I need another,’ Walter said, draining his glass.
‘I think I’ll join you.’
‘You’re driving,’ he pointed out.
‘We’ll get a taxi.’
Drinking brandy this early in the day (it was not quite six o’clock) soon began to take its toll, and after her third, Beth was tipsy, bordering on drunk. She knew she was heading for inebriation because her nose was going numb. It was a sure sign she should stop. But she was having too much fun. She hadn’t let her hair down like this in ages. Walter had recovered from his ordeal and was regaling her with stories about when he used to own the farm. Many of them made her laugh, but a few were rather poignant, and when he talked about his wife, Beth could hear the pain in his voice and her heart went out to him.
‘I still miss her,’ he said, his eyes damp. ‘Do you miss your husband?’
Beth shook her head. ‘I’d just started divorce proceedings when he died. He was a waste of space – although I’d never tell the kids that. He spent most of his life, and most of his money, in the bookies. The irony was, he’d had a bit of luck on the horses the day he was killed. He’d watched the race in the pub over the road and was on his way to collect his winnings, when he stepped into the street without looking. His winnings paid for his funeral.’
Walter put a hand on hers. ‘You must have had it tough, bringing up four kids on your own.’
‘I coped.’ It had been hard, but her children had never gone without.
Walter squeezed her hand. ‘They’re a credit to you.’
Yes, she thought, they were. Even Maisie, whom she had lain awake night after night worrying about, had settled down. Adam was a good man. Although Nikki’s first husband had been useless and Beth had fretted that her eldest girl had married a wrong ’un, Nikki had eventually seen sense and had got shot of him. Beth thoroughly approved of Gio, her new partner. She approved of Otto, too.
‘And Otto is a credit toyou,’ she told Walter. ‘He’s done incredibly well for himself.’
‘Despite having me for a father,’ Walter lamented.
