“Great.” Edith vanished back around the screen before he could change his mind.
Arthur hesitated, wondering what he had just done, but then undid his shirt. His chest was okay, firm even. It was tanned with a few wires of gray hair. Miriam said he had a good body. He didn’t think at that time she had anything to compare it to. He shook his trousers down, then peeled off his socks and underpants. Finally he was naked. He held the dressing gown to his groin and sidestepped from behind the screen and into the room. Had his wife posed for one sitter, or a room full of people? A few of the students looked up. They wore expressions that could best be described as fed up. He moved to the chair, sat down and crossed his legs, covering his dignity. Edith nodded and he reluctantly allowed the dressing gown to slip to the floor.
There was a sudden pleasing sound of scribbling pencils and charcoal and rubbers scrubbing at paper. He stared straight ahead and focused his gaze on a light shade. It was dusty and a maggot wriggled in the lightbulb. Edith was right. He felt quite free, like he was a Neanderthal who had wandered out of his cave and into an art studio, which he supposed was a bit like what had actually happened.
At one point he thought he saw Adam poke his head around the door but he didn’t want to move and disturb his pose. He was warm from the small electric fire that cast an orange glow on his shins and he allowed his thoughts to drift away, back to the day of the picnic. He relived every single second of that delicious day and he was glad that he had his legs crossed.
After ten minutes someone shouted out. “Can we have a new pose?”
Without worrying about his nakedness he stood up and let his arms hang by his sides. He stared straight ahead.
“Er, can’t you, like, pose or something? You look kind of sad.”
“Tell me what to do.”
A young man strode over. He took hold of Arthur’s arms and maneuvered them so that one was outstretched and one was crooked. “Pretend that you’re firing a bow and arrow. I’m creating a piece of body jewelry based on war.”
“You’re Ben?”
“Yes. I am.”
“Just tell me exactly what you want, Ben.”
These kids were going to create a brilliant piece of jewelry or art with his help. When he had gone, his memory might live on, as a jeweled codpiece or armband, just as Miriam’s memory was doing in the paneled room.
It was then a thought hit him, and it was a strange one. He realized that he wanted her portrait to stay hanging in that room, even if she was naked. Even if she might not have known when she posed that the work would remain on display for so many years. It was a beautiful piece of art. It wasn’t part of his life but it was part of hers. People should be able to see it.
“You did good, man,” Ben said at the end of the class. “Do you want to see?”
Arthur got dressed and followed Ben and Edith around the room. It was strange to see himself depicted in twenty or so different pieces of artwork. He saw his body in charcoal, pastels, as smears, in paint strokes. These young artists hadn’t seen him as an old man. They had viewed him as a model, a warrior, an archer, as something beautiful and useful. He wondered what would happen to the art now. It would no doubt be displayed in portfolios, or proudly on walls. In twenty years from now, when he might no longer be here, his form might still be admired. Tears pricked his eyes. He recognized himself in some and not others. His face looked peaceful, at odds with the wrinkled, tired apparition that greeted him in the mirror each morning.
“Happy?” Edith said.
“They’re rather wonderful.”
“My wife says she’s giving me a second chance.” Adam shuffled back into the room. His face was ashen and his shoulders drooped. “Oh, is the lesson over?” He glanced around the room and then at his watch. “Some good work here, students!” he shouted out.
Ben and Edith gave him a disdainful stare and walked out.
“What’s up with those two?” Adam said incredulously. “What’s been going on?”
“The model didn’t turn up.”
“But their work. They’ve...” His words tailed away as he saw the subject in their art. “Oh...”
Arthur straightened his collar. “My name is Arthur Pepper. Now perhaps we can talk about what I came here for. I want to ask you about a gold charm in the shape of a paint palette. It’s engraved with the initials S.Y. I believe they may stand for Sonny Yardley.”
The college didn’t keep full records of students’ work, Adam explained. But they did keep some sketches and photos from some of the most promising students by year. Arthur said that he was looking for a piece of jewelry created around the mid-’60s and Adam pulled some heavy books off the shelves, opened them and set them in front of him.
“You should have said that you were here to find a piece of work,” Adam said. “I am so sorry that you had to strip off. This is the second time this has happened. If anyone finds out, then I will be fired. I’ll never get my wife back then. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Arthur said that he would not. “Why does she keep threatening to go?”
“Because just look at me. I’m a bloody college lecturer. She’s a lawyer and way out of my league. She can run rings ’round me. Most of the time her work keeps her mind occupied. But she likes to keep me on my toes by threatening to leave. I can’t keep doing this.”
“It sounds exhausting.”
“It is. But we both love it. The sex afterward, when we make up, is astounding.”
“Oh.” Arthur flipped the pages and studied the sketches even more closely.
“They must have made charms that year,” Adam said. “This year it’s a piece of armor or body jewelry.”
“Ben told me. My penis may become a nose guard or something.” He said it without thinking and then gave a burst of laughter, that he had said the word penis and that he had stood for over an hour naked for students. It was absurd. Adam gave him a confused stare, which made Arthur laugh even more. A tear ran down his cheek and he wiped it away. His stomach muscles ached as he thought of Ben crafting a piece of brass into the shape of his dangly bits. He used his fingers to blot under his eyes. He was losing it. His life with his wife was a lie.
“Have you found anything yet?” Adam said. “What date are you at?”
“Um, 1964. I’m sorry, I just got hysterical for a moment.”
And then he found it. The next page he turned showed an intricate line drawing. It was of a palette with six blobs of paint and a fine brush. “This is the one.” He took the bracelet from his pocket and laid it out on the paper.
Adam peered at the page. “Ah, yes, it was Sonny Yardley herself who made it. She’s a wonderful artist. Very inspiring. How wonderful that you have this actual piece.”
“I believe that Sonny’s been ill, but I want to find out the story behind this charm and how my wife came to own it.”
“Well, when she’s back I’ll ask her to call you.”
Arthur walked back over to the painting of his wife. They smiled at each other.
Adam joined him. “That’s my favorite, too. There’s something about her eyes, isn’t there?”
Arthur nodded.
“It’s by Martin Yardley, Sonny’s brother. He only painted for a short time. I’m not sure why.” Adam lowered his voice. “I’ve never told anyone before, but that painting inspired me to become a teacher. I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I was at school. I loved art but didn’t think of it as a career. Then we came to visit the college. I remember Sonny. She wore these huge orange trousers and had a headscarf in her hair. You can imagine the sniggers of us fifteen-year-old lads as we looked at these nudie paintings of women. I tried to pretend to be mature but touring a room full of painted breasts was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. I thought how amazing it would be to paint naked women for a living. I used to visit this gallery and look at the brushstrokes, especially on this piece of work.”