Chapter Two

Evan peered into the cabinet to peruse its neatly ordered contents. He liked to wander the British Museum on his half-day off work, and he often ended up in the Greek gallery. Today, he examined a large amphora whose label read Athens 300 BC. It was a piece over which he often lingered, the aesthetic appeal of the ebony athletes leaping and running around its curves enhanced by their being exclusively male and almost entirely naked. Ogling an antique piece of ceramic was the closest Evan had come to physical congress in weeks, but after last night’s narrow escape, that might not be such a bad thing.

Moving along the cabinet, Evan surveyed the rows of pots and dishes, some ornately decorated and others more rudimentary. As he studied a Minoan vase in a vivid shade of blue, he wondered if life would have been so different all those years ago. He doubted Ancient Greece had been a worse place to live than twentieth-century London. While he couldn’t deny its opportunities for work and entertainment, he could live without the smoke that belched from thousands of chimneys and frequently cloaked the capital in a foul and deadly smog.

Evan pictured the Mediterranean skies that might have greeted Plato or Homer, and he imagined himself lying on a Cretan beach absorbing the sun’s warming rays. It was a lovely dream, but sadly it would remain just that. His wages barely paid Mrs. Grindley’s rent, and once he’d sent some money home to his parents, he only had a few pence spare for the odd trip to the pictures or the pub. He’d have to spend every night cooped up in his room if he were to save for a foreign jaunt, and what was the point of being in London if he didn’t live a little?

Looking at his watch, Evan supposed he should be getting home. Mrs. Grindley was visiting a friend, thank goodness, so the residents of Beston House would be left to their own devices. He was looking forward to the simple pleasure of a slice of bread and a hunk of cheese, followed by a gab with Sandy. Evan was about to head off when he noticed he wasn’t the only person enthralled by the ancient pottery.

On the opposite side of the cabinet, a man was gazing intently at the Athenian amphora. Evan doubted he was having the same thoughts as himself as he scrutinized the naked athletes, but he seemed transfixed by its sporting design. The dark-haired man was wearing a brown pinstripe suit, the kind seen in newspaper photographs of famous actors and royalty, which Evan could never hope to afford. The stranger looked born to wear his stylish attire, his confident posture showing the suit’s fine cut to full advantage. Then he raised his eyes, and Evan saw the man was not a total stranger. His hair was smooth with Brilliantine, and he wasn’t wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, but he was unmistakably Captain Milo Halstead.

Evan was about to make a hasty exit when he realized the former soldier was smiling at him through the glass. He may have looked smarter than he had last night, but his smile was still as warm and kind as a Nightingale Nurse’s. Evan didn’t imagine the captain remembered him, but he smiled back, thinking it would be impolite not to, then turned to walk away. To his surprise, Evan’s action was mirrored on the other side of the cabinet as Captain Halstead moved in the same direction. He was still looking at Evan, still smiling, and as they both reached the end of the cabinet, Evan wondered what would happen next. Would words be exchanged? And what would those words be? If Milo remembered him from last night and he wasn’t the genial man he seemed, they might hint at blackmail or violence.

Evan was tempted to put his head down and make a run for it, but he didn’t want to attract the attention of the museum guards. He took a breath and stepped forward, only to find Milo standing in his way.

“Excuse me. Could I get past?”

“Of course, but…” Milo’s smile was uncertain now, but he didn’t move from Evan’s path. “It was you I saw in the Rose and Crown last night, wasn’t it?”

Evan lowered his eyes and weighed up his options. He could admit he was at the pub and ask to know what business of Milo’s it was. Or he could deny being anywhere near the place, or even knowing of its existence. The latter seemed the most sensible choice, avoiding all confrontation, but when he looked up and saw Milo’s blue eyes sparkling cheerfully back at him, Evan was overwhelmed by a longing to spend a few seconds more in his company.

With no idea of Milo’s intentions, Evan answered, “That’s right. I saw you there too.”

“I thought you did. For a moment, I thought you might say hello.”

“I-I thought you were looking at me across the bar, but you were looking for your friend.”

“It’s true I was keeping an eye out for Haynes, but you weren’t mistaken. I was looking at you.”

“You were? Why would you be doing that?”

“It’s quite simple, really. I was…”

Milo opened his mouth to continue, but he seemed to have lost the words he’d planned.

“Let me start from the beginning. My name is Milo Halstead, but I imagine you know that after standing so close to myself and Haynes in the pub.” Milo smiled at Evan with no trace of accusation. “What I doubt you’ll know, as not many people do, is that I’m an artist. Or at least I teach art at St. Swithun’s College. I enjoy my work very much, but when I saw you last night, you rekindled my dream of being a professional artist.”

Evan’s eyes widened in confusion, and Milo chuckled.

“I’m not explaining myself very well, am I? The fact is the Royal Academy is running a competition. It’s open to all and I’d love to enter, but I’ve been at a loss for inspiration. Then I saw you last night, and you have such a fascinating, beautiful face, I knew I’d found the subject for my painting. I didn’t dare approach you in the pub, but when I saw you here in the museum, I thought perhaps fate had intervened and it was meant to be.”

Evan knew he should reply, but he was still reeling from Milo’s compliment. He could believe he might find his face fascinating, with its dodgy nose and dimpled chin, but no one had ever called him beautiful before, not even his own mother. In the absence of any reaction from Evan, Milo hesitantly concluded his speech.

“So, I was wondering if you might like to sit for me.”

“Sit for you?”

“I mean model for me. Let me paint you. I’d pay you, of course.”

To say Evan was shocked was an understatement.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Halstead, but I couldn’t do that. I’m afraid I’m not the kind of man who takes off his clothes for money. Not even for an artist such as yourself.”

“My dear man, I do apologize.” It was Milo who now looked taken aback. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all. It wouldn’t be that sort of painting. I may ask you to undo your shirt collar, but that’s as much flesh as I would wish you to show.”

Evan was relieved, but he was still astonished by Milo’s proposal.

“Are you sure you want to paint me? Wouldn’t you rather paint one of your students? They must be better-looking.”

“My dear… I say, would you mind awfully telling me your name? It seems odd having such a conversation without it.”

“It’s…it’s Evan.” Evan supposed it couldn’t do much harm to reveal his first name, and Milo wasted no time in using it.

“My dear Evan, there are many handsome boys and girls in my classes, but not one of their faces has so much character or natural beauty as yours, and none has ever captured my attention so inescapably. I’ll understand if you don’t wish to participate, but I’d be most grateful if you would consider it. Let me give you my telephone number, and you can let me know your decision.”

Evan didn’t want to admit his lodgings had no telephone, and he’d never dared ask his boss, Mr. Bailey, if he could use the one at work. So he made a swift decision, which he hoped wouldn’t turn out to be a rash one.

“I’ll do it, and you don’t have to pay me. It’ll be a pleasure to help out.”

“That’s wonderful news, Evan, but I must give you something for your time. I know it may seem like lounging around, but sitting for a portrait is jolly hard work.”

“I’m sure I’ll cope.” Evan had worked down the pit when he was younger, and he doubted sitting still for a couple of hours would be tougher than shifting trucks and breathing coal dust all day. “Let me see the portrait when it’s done. That’s all the payment I’ll need.”

“If you’re sure. It might require a number of sessions.”

It hadn’t occurred to Evan that sitting for a portrait might take more than a day. He’d assumed the subject would be surplus to requirements once the essential features were done, but Evan had no objection to spending more time with Milo than he’d expected.

“That’s not a problem. When would you like me to start?”

“As soon as possible. When would be a convenient time for you?”

“I’ll be at work all week, but I finish early on Saturday. Although I did say I’d do something with Sandy.”

Milo smiled. “Is Sandy your sweetheart? I wouldn’t want to steal away your time together.”

“Sandy’s my friend.” Evan laughed at the thought of Sandy being his sweetheart, even if he was pretty enough to pass for a girl if he put on a dress and some makeup. “It’s short for Alexander. He’s one of the other lads at the boarding house. We’ll probably go to a film or have a drink at the pub. But if you’re free on Sunday, I could sit for you then.”

Evan put his hand to his mouth, realizing he may have offended a man as well-brought-up as Milo. “I’m sorry. I suppose you go to church on Sunday and wouldn’t think of working on the Sabbath. I’ll tell Sandy I’m busy this Saturday.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Good friends are hard to come by, and you should do your best to hang on to them.” Milo lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I’m not a great churchgoer, so Sunday will be fine. Would two o’clock in the afternoon be all right?”

“Two o’clock would be perfect.” Being a bit of a heathen himself, Evan was glad he’d get his Sunday lie-in. “Where should I go? And what should I wear?”

“Wear whatever you like. It’s your face I’m interested in. And could you meet me at the college? It’s on Mews Street. Do you know it?”

“I’ve not been in the place, but I walk past it every day. I work at Bailey’s, the big grocer’s round the corner from there, and I live up on Canberry Road.”

He’d divulged in one sentence more information than was probably wise, but Milo made him feel so at ease, Evan thought he might say anything.

“That’s settled, then.” Milo held out his hand and Evan shook it, as he’d almost done last night. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

With one last smile, Milo released Evan’s hand and turned to walk across the gallery. When he was through the door and out of sight, Evan discreetly raised his hand and breathed the aroma left by Milo’s skin. There were faint chemical traces of paint and turpentine mingled with an exotic, spiced scent, which may have been soap or even perfume.

Evan made up his mind to take a bath on Sunday morning and be sure he had clean clothes to wear. He also planned what he was going to tell Sandy over their makeshift supper that night. Sandy wouldn’t believe that an upper-class artist wanted to paint his portrait, but then Evan could hardly believe it himself.