Life Drawing for Beginners (25 page)

He’d let the place go after she died. He’d never been any good in a garden anyway, better at admiring flowers than growing them. Everything had faded away without Ruth to water and weed and nurture, and he hadn’t cared. What good were flowers to him, what did he want with scents and humming bees and flapping butterflies, when she was gone?

He’d like it now, he’d like to have something to look at when he sat out here. Maybe he should employ a gardener, couple of hours a week, put a bit of a shape on it. The girl had started things off, with her weeding. Maybe she—

He shut the thought off and turned his face to the sky, ribboned with grey and orange and purple. Wouldn’t mind being able to paint, like to try and capture that. Maybe he could do a class. He watched a bird flitting across the lawn, home to bed. He turned to glance up behind him and saw the curtains drawn in Valerie’s room.

After another few minutes, when the darkness began to draw in, he rose and went indoors, and locked the door for the night.

“I didn’t see you at the pool on Thursday.”

“Yes, I must work. One of the other worker on holiday, so I work for her.”

“Oh.” Meg sipped her tea.

“How was birthday party?” Zarek asked.

She rolled her eyes, pushing her glasses up in a gesture that was becoming familiar to him. “Well, busy, of course, and noisy. She invited all the girls from her class—she wanted all the boys to come too, but I had to put a limit on it. I think thirteen came.”

Zarek imagined thirteen little girls full of sugar, leaping and shrieking around the house. “Lot of fun,” he said, thanking the gods that he’d escaped.

Meg made another face. “Fun for the kids, sure—but I was exhausted at the end of it. Of course,” she added, “my darling husband wasn’t there—he
said
he had a meeting at work that he couldn’t get out of, very convenient. So I had to do the whole thing myself.”

Zarek laid down his cup. “Please excuse,” he said. “I need toilet.”

“So this is your first year of the playschool,” Irene said.

“That’s right. I was a teacher before I went on maternity leave with my daughter, and basically I never went back. She’s just started school, so I thought I’d try this.”

“And how do you like it?”

“Well, it’s hectic, but I love working with children, especially really young ones. They’re a joy—most of the time.”

Irene laid down her half-full cup. “Frankly, I don’t know how you do it. No offense, but I have to say it would be my idea of hell.”

“None taken; each to his own,” Meg replied lightly. “What is it you do again?”

“My husband and I own Fitness Unlimited, next to the library.”

“I know it.” Meg ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “And I have to say that going to a gym would be
my
idea of hell.”

Irene grinned. “
Touché
. By the way,” she went on, “what do you think of Zarek? He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

“Zarek?” Meg’s hand drifted to her braid. “To be honest, I hadn’t really noticed.”

Pathetic; what a bad liar she was. Couldn’t she see how everyone knew she was mad for him? Irene debated telling her that she was wasting her time, but then decided not to. Let Meg find out all by herself.

“Would you mind if I told you something?”

“Not at all,” Audrey replied. She never minded being taken into someone’s confidence. The very question, cloaked in a vague secrecy, usually suggested that the something in question was fairly interesting.

“It’s just that…I’m pregnant.”

Audrey’s face broke into a wide smile. “Oh Fiona, good for you. Your first?”

“Yes, and I’m dying to tell everyone.”

“Of course you—”

“But my husband says we should wait, you know, until it’s safe.”

“How far gone are you?” Audrey’s knowledge of pregnancy and all it entailed was limited to staff room chat among the teachers who found themselves in that condition. Nevertheless, she’d picked up a respectable amount of information over the years.

“Only a few weeks; I suppose he’s right.” She glanced at the hand Audrey was using to hold her cup. “You don’t have children yourself?”

“Not yet,” Audrey told her cheerfully, “but I live in hope.”

“I think,” Fiona said, her blush deepening again, “you’d make a very good mother”—and it was with the greatest difficulty that Audrey resisted the impulse to hug her.

“So how are you feeling?” Irene asked—compelled to show interest, since Fiona had shared her big secret the week before.

“Fine—no morning sickness at all so far.” She crunched into a custard cream. “If I hadn’t done a test, I’d wonder if I was imagining things.”

Irene remembered the awful queasiness that had begun barely three weeks into her pregnancy and lasted right through, making breakfast, and often lunch too, an impossibility. Her stomach churning, as if her body were rejecting the fetus as much as Irene’s mind had been.

“You’re lucky,” she told Fiona. “Not everyone sails through. And you’re tiny, so you’ll probably get your figure back in no time.”

“Maybe,” Fiona said, smiling brightly, “you should give it another go. I mean, I know you said you had a tough time before, but you never know, a second pregnancy might be a lot easier.”

Irene wanted to slap the smile off her face. A few weeks’ pregnant and already an expert. Assuming that everyone was just dying to go through the horror of bringing another screaming baby into the world.

“I have no intention of having another child,” she said. “I’m having far too much fun having sex with whomever I please. Why would I want to stop that?”

Fiona looked half amused, half shocked. “No—I don’t believe you.”

“True as I’m standing here,” Irene said. “Right now I’m having sex with the man who repaired my car a couple of weeks ago. He’s a bit less polished than I’m used to, but very enthusiastic, if you get my drift.” She scanned the room. “There’s Audrey on the move, looks like we’re going back.”

She walked away, leaving the silly cow to follow.

“So you had Eoin when you were what—twelve?”

Jackie laughed. “I was eighteen, and very innocent. It was a one-night stand in Greece, after far too many beers.”

“Oops. Bet your parents were delighted.”

“Don’t remind me. I’d say they came this close to throwing me out on the street. They’re fine now, thankfully, and mad about Eoin.”

“I’m assuming,” he said, “that the father isn’t on the scene.”

“You’re assuming right; I never laid eyes on him again. We weren’t exactly intending to keep in touch.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “God, I sound like a total slut, don’t I? I’m not, honest.”

James laughed. “I believe you, honest.”

They sat on the low wall that flanked the college entrance. He’d cut short his bedtime story—the prince and princess had married with indecent haste—as soon as he’d seen her coming out. Their conversation was easy, more relaxed than it had been in the park. She’d had time to get used to him being who he was.

She hadn’t looked in his direction all through the first half of the class, and he supposed that made sense. She was naked, he was her son’s friend’s father. Awkward. And for his part, he’d tried to concentrate on the fact that her body was an object to be drawn, and nothing more. Awkward too.

Okay now, though. Enjoyable now, to be sitting in the dusk with her. Eighteen when Eoin was born, so twenty-four or -five now. Nine or ten years younger than him.

Not that her age mattered in the least. They were only chatting. They were just friends, or parents of friends.

“Lord, I almost forgot,” Audrey said, falling into step with Meg as they returned to class. “Someone was inquiring about playschools and I promised them I’d ask you if you had any vacancies.”

Meg laughed. “‘Vacancies’; that makes me feel like a B and B…​is it for a friend of yours?”

“No, not at all—at least, it’s someone I hardly know really, I just bought my dog from him. But I met him in the park on Sunday and he was asking me about playschools, goodness knows why, and I thought of you.”

“Well, thanks for that, I’ll certainly talk to him. I have ten on the books, which is as many as I want really, but there is a boy who comes just two days a week, so maybe I could take this child the other three…look, pass on my number and ask him to give me a call.”

“I’ll do that, thanks.”

“So,” Audrey said, taking the picture from the blackboard, “I’d like you to try one or two tonal studies this week. Think negative spaces, think light direction, pick out the highlights. See how it goes.”

Two classes to go, and so far so good. Her students weren’t particularly artistic, apart from Zarek, but hopefully they were enjoying the experience. At least nobody had dropped out.

She waited until the classroom had cleared and then left, pulling the door closed. As she walked down the corridor Jackie hurried up behind her.

“Is everyone gone?”

“Yes, all gone. You look like you’re in a rush.”

“Just wanted to catch a program on telly—see you next week.” She waved as she flew up the corridor.

She’d certainly gotten over her nerves: sitting didn’t seem to faze her at all now. Nice girl, Audrey had been lucky to get her. Thank goodness she hadn’t had to take Terence the science teacher up on his offer; imagine him ogling Irene as he sat there without a stitch on.

In the lobby Audrey stopped to exchange a few words with Vincent, and by the time she walked outside, a minute or so later, her model was nowhere in sight.

All through the first half she’d done her best to ignore him. Hadn’t once looked in his direction while they were drawing, had kept her eyes firmly on the floor in front of her, or off into the distance. Just once, as she’d been going from one pose into another, she’d given a lightning glance towards his table, but he was turned away, saying something to Zarek.

Not that she expected anything to be different, of course. Just because they’d spent a couple of hours together over the weekend didn’t mean anything would have changed between them. Particularly not here, where she was just the model again, and nobody’s mother.

She’d wandered outdoors at break—not looking for him, really not, just needing some fresh air—and he’d appeared a minute later, and they’d had a lovely chat, with her feeling no embarrassment or shyness at all. He’d asked about Eoin’s father—​didn’t that mean he was interested, just a bit? Wasn’t he trying to find out if she was with anyone?

She hadn’t mentioned Charlie’s mother, something had stopped her, some sense that he didn’t want to talk about that. But they’d gotten on well, they had.

And now the class was over, and she’d rushed getting dressed, and there was no sign of his car in the car park.

No matter. She hadn’t really expected anything to be different—​except he could have offered her a lift home, since he’d as good as chatted her up at the break, and since she was his daughter’s friend’s mother, and since it wouldn’t have killed him.

No matter. She walked quickly down the driveway towards the college gates—needing to keep up the pretense, at least until Audrey motored past her, that she was rushing home to the television.

What were the chances? Irene reread the name on the slip Zarek had given her, but it still said
Pilar Okrentovich
, and Irene very much doubted that there were two Pilars in Carrickbawn, let alone two with the same unpronounceable surname. She’d just gotten the number of the last au pair in Ireland she intended calling.

She screwed up the slip and threw it out the car window. She took out her phone to call her mother—surely she’d have some other leads—and saw a text message waiting to be read. She opened it.

When can we do it again?

She closed the message and scrolled through her contacts till she found her mother’s name.

M
ichael Browne.”

As abrupt as ever. Snapped out, as if Audrey was interrupting something important.

“It’s Audrey Matthews,” she said.

“Who?”

“You were asking me about playschools,” she said briskly. Really, you’d think at this stage he’d recognize her voice. “I met you in the park. On Sunday. You sold me my dog.”

“Oh…yes,” he said.

“You asked me about playschools,” she repeated.

“Yes?”

Was that a note of
impatience
in his voice? When
she
was doing
him
the favor, he had the
gall
to sound impatient? What was it about this man that he could make her feel so cross so easily?

“Hello?”

“I’m still here,” she said stiffly. “I got you a number.” She could just picture him standing behind his counter, as grumpy as ever. Easy to be polite and pleasant when you were looking for something.

“Her name is Meg Curran.” She recited the number.

“Many thanks,” he said.

“Good-bye then,” she said shortly and hung up without giving him a chance to say any more. She walked off in the direction of her class, feeling prickly.

Zarek cleared the table of crumbs and cardboard cartons and cups and scattered salt packets, and wiped the surface with his cloth. So many people eating such unhealthy food, filling their bodies with fat and salt and sugar. Not for the first time, he wished he worked in a shop that sold nothing edible. Art supplies maybe, or musical instruments. Or sports equipment, like the shop Anton worked in.

The café door opened and Pilar walked in. It was the first time they’d met since the previous evening, Pilar having gone to her room before Zarek had returned from the art class, and not yet up by the time he’d left the apartment to come to work.

“Hello,” he said. “I have good news.”

Pilar’s eyes widened. “You say your boss I look for work, your boss say for me to come?”

“No,” he said, “my boss not here yet.”

Her face fell.

“No, no,” Zarek said, “I have better news, about better job for you. Lady in my life drawing class looking for new au pair, she ask everybody.”

Her hopeful expression returned. “Lady in your class?”

“Yes—I give her your number. She no call you this morning?”

“No.” Pilar took out her phone and inspected it. “Nothing. She nice lady?”

“Very nice. She make the jokes, she is funny.”

“She have many childrens?”

“I don’t know.”

“What her name?”

“Irene.”

Pilar’s smile faded. “Irene? Irene what? What her last name?”

“I don’t know last name.”

“What she look like?” Pilar demanded. “She short hair, white hair?”

Zarek nodded. “Yes, she very pretty.”

“She wear the short skirt, the high shoe?”

“Yes; but she—”

“Aaiiie!” she cried, throwing her arms up to clutch at her chest, causing a few heads to turn in her direction. “She Mrs. Dillon! She my old boss! She Irene Dillon, she mother of Emily! Zarek, what you do? You give my number to my old boss? Aaiiie!”

Zarek regarded her in alarm. “Pilar, please no shouting. How you be sure she same person?”

“She same, she same,” Pilar hissed. “I know she same. She Mrs. Dillon, with the white hair and the pretty face and the short skirt. She look for new au pair now, because I leave. Why she not call me, if she not Irene Dillon?”

Zarek had to acknowledge the logic of that. He felt his hopes slowly dissipating.

Pilar thrust a hand towards him. “You give me form for job in café now. My God,” she added vehemently, “I not believe you give my number to Mrs. Dillon. You try to give me old job back. You try to kill me.”

“But work is hard here,” Zarek said desperately. “Lots of drunk peoples at night, lots of fighting. Maybe other ladies look for au pair—”

“Give me form,” Pilar demanded. “Job is job. If other ladies look for au pair, I go for job. If no other ladies, I take job here. If work okay for you, work okay for me.”

Zarek reached under the counter and took out a form, his excuses exhausted.

As she left the boutique, Jackie’s phone beeped. She took it from her bag and looked at the screen.
Charlie
, it read.

Charlie, which of course was James. Her heart skipped. She pressed
open
and his message popped up:

She read it through three times. He was inviting them to the cinema. She should wait before replying, not seem too eager. She replaced her phone and walked to the end of the street. She pressed the button to summon the green man on the opposite side and stood waiting at the edge of the pavement.

It wouldn’t seem eager if she replied. It was a play date for their kids, that was all. The green man lit up. She pulled her phone out and typed
Sounds good. What time?
She signed it
J
, the same as his. She pressed
send
and off it flew to him, as the green man turned red again.

She liked the way they were both J. She liked that he hadn’t made it sound all about the kids—although of course that was why they were meeting. She pressed the traffic signal button again.

Wasn’t it?

She wished she knew for sure that his wife was dead. She wished he’d say something, make it clear what the situation was.

Her phone beeped again as the green man reappeared.

No J this time. You didn’t need to put your name if you knew the person well enough. She dropped her phone back into her bag and hurried across the road as the green man disappeared for the second time. She walked the half block to the coffee shop where she normally got her lunchtime sandwich, listening to the Lady Gaga song that had been playing in her head all day.

Love, love, love, I want your love
, she heard.

Carmel turned as quietly as she could, pulling her pillow farther under her head and nestling into it. The novelty of lying in a clean, comfortable bed hadn’t worn off; she didn’t think it ever would. She stretched her legs, enjoying the crisp, smooth feel of the sheets that he’d changed over the weekend, even though they’d only been sleeping in them a little over a week.

In the squat they’d had no sheets at all, and she had no idea how long the blankets had been on the bed that she and Ethan, and later Barry, had slept in. Here they had hot showers every evening, and still he changed the sheets.

But that was the trouble, wasn’t it? It was so good here, so much better than anyplace she’d been, even her own home. Especially her own home, with every night full of menace, never knowing when her bedroom door was going to open. This was so different, they were so safe here.

And she knew it couldn’t last, nothing like this lasted. And then what? Where could they possibly go from here? Whenever she thought about leaving this house, it felt like someone was shoving a fist into her stomach.

She’d spent the morning dropping back the job application forms, and everywhere she’d gone she’d gotten the same reaction. Nobody had said anything, but their faces had said enough. Their faces had said
Is that it?

“We’ll let you know if something comes up,” they’d told her, and it had sounded, each time, like a thing they said to make her go away.

Was it a week since they’d done the test to see if she was telling the truth about Ethan? She couldn’t remember what day that had been, but it felt like a week ago. Ethan’s father had said the results would take a week to ten days. That meant they could come any day. Maybe tomorrow.

She knew what the results should show, but maybe they weren’t always right, maybe they got it wrong sometimes. And even if they got it right, how did she know what he’d do when he read them? Even though she did everything she could think of not to make him sorry he’d taken them in, he might still be tired of having them living in his house. He might give her some money for Barry and then throw them out. She turned over again and closed her eyes and tried to stop tossing it all around in her head, but it was impossible.

It was for Charlie, he was just doing it for his daughter’s sake. He was responsible for her happiness, and meeting her friend in the cinema would make her happy. And he and Charlie went to see a film most Fridays, it wasn’t as if he was arranging a special trip. He was just inviting the other two along to join them, that was all.

It was for Charlie.