“Go over there behind the screen. Then we can get started.” Adam clapped his hands.
Arthur stared blankly, his mind not functioning. Another waiting room? Where? Oh, there. Yes, okay, then. His feet moved again. He was aware only of himself and his discomfort.
It wasn’t a room as such, more of a wooden screen, but there was a plastic chair and a glass of water on a low table. There was a toweling robe. He sat and waited for Adam. He thought of how at the beach with the kids Miriam clutched a towel around her in a series of Houdini-like moves as she removed her wet swimsuit and wriggled back into her underwear. On their wedding night she had insisted on the lights off. Yet, here she was naked. An image of her bare body had hung on the wall in a room for over forty years for all to admire it. He didn’t know how to feel. Should he march back in there and pull it from the wall? Or would Miriam have been proud of the painting—that it wasn’t about her at all but about the person who had painted it.
Who had painted it?
He felt the now-familiar emotions of jealousy and confusion invading his body again. Between each charm he raised his hopes, that the next thing he found out about his wife would be normal; it would be understandable. It would tell him that everything had been fine between them. And each time he felt even more bewildered. Everything had all once been so simple but his curiosity had spoiled that.
The chattering slowed down. A few minutes passed. Adam poked his head around the screen. “Are you ready yet?”
“Yes,” Arthur said. “Ready when you are.” He took a sip of the water. He reached out and felt the robe. It was white toweling and had gone stiff from being washed too many times. A few more minutes passed.
A girl appeared this time. She had black hair with a fuchsia fringe and wore a tartan kilt and biker boots. “Adam’s had to make another call,” she said. “We were wondering if you’re ready?”
“Yes. I told Adam. I’ve been waiting here for him.”
“But you’re still dressed.”
It was the strangest and most obvious observation. “Well, yes.”
“Er, did Adam not tell you? We’re studying the human form.”
Arthur frowned, not sure of the connection.
“Our drawings will influence a piece of body jewelry.”
“That’s nice.”
“We only have an hour and a quarter left, so if you’re ready...the fire is on and it’s pretty warm out here.”
It took a few moments for what she was suggesting to sink in. He gulped. “You th-think I’m a life model...?” he stuttered.
“Well, yes.”
“Well, no.” He shook his head furiously. “Definitely not. I came to see Ms. Yardley. She’s off sick so the receptionist told me to see Adam. I wanted to speak to him about a piece of jewelry. He asked me to wait in the room with the paintings and now in here...”
“So, you’re not our model?”
“Most certainly not.”
“So, he’s not turned up?” The girl opened her eyes wide. Arthur saw they had become glassy, as if she was about to cry. “But you have to do this. If we don’t do this work, then we fail our final.”
“I’m sorry but I really don’t think I can help you...”
The girl shook her head but then she reconsidered and straightened her back. “I did it once. I’d do it now but I have to be in the class. All you have to do is sit there. It’s simple. You sit and we draw.”
“But you want someone who is naked?”
“Well, yes.”
“I am not a model.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What about Adam? Can’t he...?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “We’ll be lucky to see him again. He disappears for entire lessons sometimes. His wife is a real cow. I’m Edith, by the way.” She held out her hand. When he took it, she said, “Please help us.”
“I’m Arthur. Arthur Pepper.”
The painting of Miriam flashed in his mind again. How had she felt when she sat for her portrait? Did she feel free? Had she done it to help someone out? For money? He might have been worried that she had been coerced into something that she didn’t want to do, but there was her smile. It looked as if she had enjoyed it. Putting himself in this same position could bring him closer to understanding how she felt.
Miriam had a beautiful and young body. His was sagging, as if his skin was sliding away from his bones and muscle, no longer wanting to cling on.
But indeed what did he have to hide away from? There would probably be no more lovers in his life, no more trips to the beach to paddle. The next glimpses of his naked body might be by nurses in the hospital as they gave him a bed bath on his deathbed. What exactly did he have to be scared of?
The memory came flooding back to him, sweet and painful. He and Miriam had taken a picnic to a National Trust property. The kids were in school and he’d had an unexpected day off work when an appointment canceled. Miriam made sandwiches and they walked into the woods and found a field overgrown with poppies. When they sat down the grasses were taller than their heads. They ate their lunch and Miriam had complained that her dress was sticking to her in the heat.
“Take it off, then,” he had quipped as he delved into her basket for an orange. He dug in his thumbnails and peeled it. When he looked up she sat there naked except for her white cotton knickers.
“Good idea.” She laughed. But then her smile faded.
They had moved together urgently, unable to resist the force. He had groaned as he touched her skin, so warm and glowing from the sun. They made love quickly, Arthur still dressed with her on top. For a few moments afterward, she had lain there in the grass, on her back and completely naked and natural. She was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.
“Miriam, we...” His usual reserve returned. “Someone might come.”
“I know.” She reached for her dress, slipped it back over her head and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “Did you remember to bring cake?”
They had eaten Battenberg as they stole coy but knowing glances with each other and as they bid hello to a passing dog walker.
Although this sort of thing didn’t happen very often, he knew that she could be spontaneous and abandoned.
But he had thought it was just for him.
“So, are you going to do this?” Edith asked. She scratched her nose, leaving a smudge of charcoal on the end. She had thick black eyelashes like Miriam and wrung her hands together. “Purrleeease, Arthur.”
He found that he was trembling. If Edith hadn’t been there he would have held his head in his hands and cried—for those tender days with his wife, for the never-ending feeling of loss. “If I do this, can I keep my undergarments on?” he asked distractedly.
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Ben is planning a piece of body armor based on the male genitalia. He needs detail. You do go swimming? People have seen you naked before?”
“Yes, but...not posed.”
“It’s just natural.”
“It’s not natural for me.”
“It’s not like we’re going to be lusting after your body.”
She was right. It was more likely that his naked body would provoke wincing or hunching of shoulders.
“You’ll never see any of us again.” She gave him a smile.
“That doesn’t exactly help.” He lifted up one of his trouser legs by a couple of inches to display his ankle. He’d always had brown legs even in the winter. He closed his eyes and pictured his wife again on the day of the picnic. “Take it off,” he repeated in his head, mimicking his words to her. He thought of how she had undressed within seconds, how she had been so unselfconscious. “Take it off.” He could do this. “Okay,” he said quietly.