Life Drawing for Beginners (4 page)

She claimed to have given up dealing, which Michael doubted. Why would she give it up if she was making money from it? So easy to prey on the weakest, so tempting to wrest every last cent from them when they were begging for a fix, when they’d do anything for it.

She’d said something about being thrown out of wherever they were living—so the boy would be homeless, not even a filthy bed to lie in.

Stop
. Michael punched his pillow again, willing his mind to shut down, longing for sleep—but the thoughts refused to leave him alone, Ethan refused to leave him alone. Michael’s only son, his only beloved son, dead two years ago from an overdose, aged just twenty-four. Lying under six feet of earth in the graveyard, next to his mother.

And what if her story was true, what if Ethan had become a father before his death? Because distasteful as it was to Michael, there was an infinitesimal possibility, wasn’t there, that she was telling the truth? Maybe Ethan had held that boy as a baby, maybe he’d had feelings for that girl—

Michael shook his head angrily. Nonsense, all nonsense and lies. Someone trying to pull a fast one, someone trying to con money out of him. He wasn’t responsible for a couple of down-and-outs, they were nothing to him.

He heard the wind whipping up, and a fresh rattle of drops on the window. More bloody rain. He remembered lying in bed after Ethan had gone, listening to the rain pelting on the roof and wondering if his son had any shelter from it. He remembered wondering what Ruth would have thought of him kicking Ethan out of the house. He imagined her arguing with him, like Valerie had. Maybe if she hadn’t been killed, Ethan wouldn’t have gone near drugs.

He turned over again, pulling the covers up to block out the sound of the rain—and at two minutes to seven he finally tumbled into a deep sleep.

T
he minute Audrey let herself into the house a high-pitched yelping sounded from the kitchen, accompanied by a frantic scrabbling at the door.

“Yes, yes,” she called, dropping her canvas bag at the bottom of the stairs and shrugging out of her jacket. “I’m coming. Here I am.”

She opened the kitchen door and Dolly flew at her, yapping joyfully and leaping around her ankles.

“I told you I was coming back.” Audrey lifted the wriggling bundle and hugged her, feeling the rapid heartbeat through the warm, rough hair. She’d felt bad leaving the little dog alone in the kitchen for the school day, but what choice did she have? The garden wasn’t secure enough to hold an energetic animal, and the shed was much too small.

The kitchen would suffer, of course. Audrey scanned the room and counted five puddles on the floor. The newspaper sheets she’d optimistically laid down that morning looked untouched, apart from one that had been shredded and scattered across a wide area. Kindling that usually sat on top of the logs in the basket was strewn across the floor, along with several fronds from Audrey’s asparagus fern.

A corner of the yellow canvas blind on the window above the sink had been chewed and was fraying. The salt and pepper cellars on the table had both been upended, their contents sprinkled over the wooden surface. One of the turquoise-and-orange seat pads on the chairs had an ominous darker patch in the middle.

Audrey sighed and held the little dog at arm’s length and regarded her sternly.

“I thought I explained about the newspaper,” she said. “I thought you understood about that. And chewing blinds is not allowed either. And
what
have you done to my poor asparagus fern?”

Dolly yapped happily, her whole rear end wagging enthusiastically.

“I know you’re sorry, but I still have to clean up.”

She needed help; she had no idea how to house-train an animal. Unfortunately the vet was on holidays till Saturday. His answering machine had given a number to use in case of emergencies, but Audrey doubted that learning how to handle a small dog, however disruptive, constituted an emergency. She’d do her best till Saturday.

In the meantime she had to return the carrier to the pet shop, and buy the leash the supermarket didn’t stock. She left the house again, ignoring the indignant yaps as soon as she closed the kitchen door, and made her way hurriedly through the late-​afternoon streets.

It took her less than a quarter of an hour to reach the laneway that housed the pet shop. The man inside looked as glum as before, and gave no sign that he remembered her. Audrey placed the carrier on the counter, determined to get her business over with as quickly as possible.

“I borrowed this on Saturday,” she said, “when I bought a little dog from you.” Keeping her voice perfectly civil, but unable to muster up more than a tiny, stiff smile.

He looked tired. He made no comment as he transferred the carrier to a shelf behind the counter.

“And I need a leash,” Audrey continued in the same polite tone.

“Second aisle on the left,” he said, flicking through pages on a clipboard.

What was wrong with the man? Would it kill him to be pleasant? Audrey crossed to the aisle and selected a red leash.
Don’t let him get to you
, she told herself as she brought it to the counter.
Don’t let him see you’re the least bit put out
.

The transaction was conducted in silence. Audrey took the leash and tucked it into her bag. “Thank you
so
much,” she said. “Do enjoy the rest of your day.”

She walked from the shop, not waiting for a reply. She wouldn’t return, not if it killed her. Whatever else she needed that wasn’t available in the supermarkets or at the vet’s would be bought in Limerick. So what if it meant a round trip of nearly sixty miles? It would be worth the bother not to have to face him again.

“I hope you realize that I rescued you from a cranky old man,” she told Dolly when she got home. “If I hadn’t come along, you’d still be sitting in that window making eyes at all the passersby, trying to escape from Mr. Grumpy.”

She took the seat pad off the chair and put it into the washing machine. She mopped up the puddles on the floor and tidied up the kindling and swept away the plant debris. Then she set out fresh newspaper and placed Dolly in the center of a sheet.

“
Here
is where you go,” she said firmly—and the little pup promptly walked off and squatted on the tiles next to it.

“
No
—” Audrey lifted her hastily and brought her out the back and deposited her on the grass by the hedge. She stood by the door and watched Dolly scampering around the garden, nosing into shrubs, reaching on her hind legs to sniff at the clothes on the rotary line, pawing at the coal bunker, scratching at the shed door.

Caring for a young animal was a lot more complicated than Audrey had imagined. Her bedroom still smelled strongly of Dettol, and she doubted that the duvet would ever fully recover. She hadn’t anticipated Dolly’s ferocious energy: It was like having a miniature whirlwind in the house. She hadn’t been prepared for the upheaval one small creature could cause.

But they’d learn, both of them. They’d cope, given time. The puddles on the floor would become a thing of the past—and hopefully Dolly would grow out of chewing everything in sight. And maybe this evening’s walk on the new leash would tire her out. Maybe she wouldn’t mind so much where she slept tonight.

Audrey scanned the patio on the other side of the hedge, but there was no sign of life next door. Her neighbors must still be in Cork. She forgot how long Pauline had said they were going for.

Her stomach growled and she turned her thoughts to dinner. She had an idea there was a chicken and rice dish in the freezer. The pack said
serves two
but really, you’d want the appetite of a bird to be happy with just half of it.

She turned back inside just as Dolly discovered the compost heap behind the shed.

Jackie Moore was having second thoughts.

What had she been thinking, how on earth had she imagined that she could do this? It wasn’t as if she’d always yearned to be a model: On the contrary, the thought had never entered her head. For one thing, her figure was far from model material. Not that she was overweight exactly, but you wouldn’t call her slim either.

And since she’d had Eoin, no amount of sit-ups would flatten her stomach—those muscles were shot forever. And horrible cellulite on her thighs, no matter how much she scrubbed with the loofah, and that awful varicose vein behind her left knee. She was no Elle Macpherson, and never had been.

The trouble was, Audrey had been so nice, so friendly and chatty. She’d assured Jackie that varicose veins and cellulite didn’t matter in the least.

“Imperfections are part of nature,” she’d said. “Have you ever seen a perfectly shaped apple?”

“Er—”

“Of course not, because it doesn’t exist. Everything in nature is imperfect, including the human body. But nobody will be focusing on that—they’ll be more concerned with curves and lines, and getting things like proportions and foreshortening right.”

She’d asked how old Jackie was.

“Twenty-four. Everyone says I look younger.”

“You certainly do.”

“How many in the class?”

“Five, nice and small.”

“Is it mixed?”

“Just two men, both very nice.”

Jackie had visualized two men sitting in front of her—strange men, checking out her breasts, having a good long look at all her bits—and her earlier confidence had begun to waver.

“Well…”

“Don’t worry,” Audrey had said, in the kind of warm voice you’d expect Mrs. Claus, or your fairy godmother, to have. “There’s bound to be a little awkwardness initially. That’s perfectly normal when you live in a society where nakedness is associated with sexuality, where the nude body is regarded as something that should be covered up.”

“That’s true.” Jackie thought of Irish beaches, where people undressed under towels, terrified of showing intimate parts in public.

“The human form,” Audrey had declared, “is a thing of beauty, nothing to be ashamed of at all. Not in the least.”

And the thing was, Audrey’s own figure was far from ideal. Jackie would have said quite overweight, although she carried herself well, her broad shoulders back, her head held high, and she had a pleasant, open face. Surely such an abundance of flesh wouldn’t be regarded as a thing of beauty though?

Mind you, most of the nudes in famous old paintings had had pretty generous curves, all wide hips and full bosoms, all big bellies and substantial thighs, and the artists had obviously thought them worth painting, so maybe it was only modern thinking that said you had to be thin to look good.

Really, why shouldn’t every human body, whatever its shape, be considered beautiful? The idea was certainly appealing. No more anorexia, no more girls and women starving themselves in the name of beauty. Everyone waddling around happily.

Audrey had poured them both more tea from the pot they’d gotten to follow the cannelloni. “So what do you think? Are you interested?”

The money being offered wasn’t great, but it would make it possible for Jackie to get the Wii that Eoin wanted. And it all sounded so easy: just sit there, or lie there, or whatever, and collect your money at the end. Really, what was there to object to? All Jackie had to do was get over her inhibitions, loosen up a bit.

“I think I’m interested,” she’d said. And just like that, she’d committed herself.

For the rest of the day she’d felt satisfied with her decision. She’d seen a way to make a bit of extra cash and she’d gone for it. She’d obviously impressed Audrey, who’d said more than once that she thought Jackie would be perfect for the job.

When you thought about it, Jackie was being terribly broad-minded and mature. She was the girl who took her clothes off for art. As she walked home from the café she’d felt acutely conscious of how she was moving. She’d found herself straightening her shoulders, pushing her chest forward, swinging her hips. She was an artist’s model. She was a thing of beauty.

But when she lay in bed that night, the implications of what she’d done began to sink in. Taking off her clothes,
all
her clothes? Standing there completely naked, with five people focused on her wobbly bits—did she really have the confidence to go through with it?

And throughout the following day, the whole notion had become more and more intimidating. What if the women were all glamorous and beautiful, the kind of women who enrolled in evening classes just to have something to talk about at dinner parties? How could Audrey be sure they wouldn’t sneer when Jackie presented her far-from-perfect body to them, or snigger at her dimpled behind, her pitifully small breasts?

Or worse, what if someone she knew had enrolled in the class, what if a neighbor turned up? What if she had to undress for Mr. MacDonald in Number 20, whose gaze drifted to her fully covered chest anytime she talked to him? Two men, Audrey had said. And if anyone she knew
had
signed up, just imagine her parents’ horror when they found out what their daughter was doing on Tuesday nights. They wouldn’t see it as art, no way.

Round and round her uncertainties flew, growing and multiplying until now, the night before the first class, Jackie knew that she simply couldn’t do it. She felt awful about letting Audrey down by backing out at such short notice, but not awful enough to conquer her fears. Surely a few other people had responded to the ad, surely a replacement could be found?

She checked that her parents were watching television before scrolling through her phone contacts until she reached
Audrey Matthews
. She took a deep breath and pressed
call
, and listened to Audrey’s phone ringing.

And ringing.

After eleven rings her son came out to the hall and saw Jackie sitting on the stairs.

“Can I have a biscuit?”

“Just one—and brush your teeth straight after.”

She listened to three more rings before the line went dead. No voice mail, no way of letting Audrey know she’d changed her mind. What now?

She hung up and walked slowly into the kitchen. Audrey had been so friendly when they’d met, and so delighted with Jackie. What if she couldn’t get a replacement, what if the class had to be canceled because of Jackie abandoning ship at the last minute?

“I need my PE gear tomorrow,” Eoin said, replacing the lid of the biscuit barrel.

“Right,” Jackie said absently.

Maybe she should give it a go, just once, and see how it went. It mightn’t be as bad as she was imagining. Maybe the people who’d signed up would be nice and mature, maybe they’d be totally impervious to the fact that Jackie was naked. Maybe they’d just concentrate on making art.

And if it did turn out to be awful she could say so after the class, and her conscience would be clear because Audrey would have a whole week to find someone else.

She followed Eoin upstairs, just as Audrey climbed, dripping, from her Monday-evening bath.

“You have to go,” he said, grinding his cigarette butt into the bare cement floor. Carmel knew he was doing it to annoy her; he knew she hated cigarettes. He could just as easily have flicked it out the open window.

“We got nowhere,” she said. “You can’t throw us out, we’ll be on the street.”

“Not my problem,” he said. “I told you, you don’t deal, you don’t make no money, you can’t stay.”

“You can’t make us go,” she said. “This isn’t your place. We was here before you.”

He took a step in their direction and she instinctively pushed Barry behind her. He reached out and grabbed her wrist and squeezed it painfully.

“You’ll go,” he said softly, “or your little boy will be sorry. You can’t watch him all the time.”

She felt something lurch inside her. “You touch him an’ I’ll kill you,” she said, feeling his nails digging into the skin of her arm.

He laughed. “Stop, you’re scaring me,” he said, dropping her arm. “You got two days to go back to dealing, or you’re out.” He hawked and spat on the floor, barely missing Carmel’s shoe. “You hear?”