Alina’s investigations of Lawren Drake revealed nothing new. His online profile gave every evidence of being accurate and authentic. His studio and residence were long-standing rentals and a number of worthies in London spoke highly on his website about his work ethic and skills as an artist.
Although his birth date was not supplied, she calculated his age must be around fifty-five, judging from the work quoted.
In spite of all this information she was not satisfied about his intentions.
She considered spying on him when Anna went to their next meeting. She could hide among the coffee drinkers and watch his face from a distance. She always believed a lot could be learned from just observing a person’s expressions and an objective observer could probably discover more than Anna would, while she was involved in conversation.
The fact that she was seriously considering this action proved to Alina how worried she was about this interloper in their calm lives. Yes, she had to admit she was concerned about herself, but she was more anxious about the effect it would have on Anna if he turned out to be some trickster who just wanted her time and money and had no intention of delivering on his promises. She knew Anna was generally a good judge of character, yet this portrait project had obviously taken hold of her imagination and from the way she spoke about it, she was determined to go ahead with the idea, no matter what it might cost.
The financial cost was not a concern. Other than travel expenses, such as their recent adventures in Egypt, Anna rarely spent any money on herself. Both cars they owned were older models. Their condo was paid for, after the sale of property and the combination of legacies and investments they owned, and the A Plus business more than covered their living expenses and also assisted in any business-related costs, such as James’ salary and yearly trips to Scotland to seek out new products and materials.
What really concerned her was the possible emotional cost to Anna. Despite her friend’s practical and controlled exterior appearance, Alina knew the tender heart that exterior concealed from the world.
In many ways they were, both of them, damaged goods as far as men were involved. Richard’s betrayal had affected Anna so deeply that she had sunk into a depression that lasted years.
The entire fiasco in Luxor when they met Richard so unexpectedly had brought about a softening in Anna’s attitude to her former husband that surprised Alina as much as it did Anna herself. She did not want to see the barriers against men rise again if this artist fellow turned out to be a charlatan.
Out of respect for Anna, she could not just barge into this touchy arena with guns blazing. That, she suspected, would send Anna zooming off in the opposite direction. Subtlety would have to be employed, and soon. If a direct attack was not viable and spying was a bit outrageous, what could a friend do to prevent a possible disaster?
Anna sat in Williams Coffee Pub and watched customers drive into the adjacent parking lot. She had been scanning every car and its passengers before she realized Lawren would be much more likely to arrive by bicycle since his home was only a few blocks north of Victoria Park. She fiddled with the items she had brought to show him and wished she had not set out so early, leaving herself enough time to get nervous about this meeting.
Turning her attention to Victoria Park, she saw old men seated on benches feeding squirrels, and children skipping along ahead of their mothers in the spring sunlight. She felt she had not experienced many carefree moments lately since this idea of a portrait had entered her thoughts so forcibly. She made up her mind to decide one way or the other after this meeting. Either the project could be completed satisfactorily or she would be done with the entire thing and give herself some peace.
Alina, at least, would be pleased if the latter was her decision. Anna knew she had monopolized their conversation at home with speculation about what Lawren Drake might be able to achieve with his painting. Once or twice she had caught an expression on Alina’s face that announced her impatience with the entire topic but she could not seem to divert her mind from the work she had seen in his studio and the possibilities he had indicated might be achievable.
And here she was clutching a selection of old photographs and even odder objects, and, for all she knew, he might not even turn up.
A tap on her shoulder brought her head around and away from the outside view. Lawren Drake was standing there having entered the restaurant by a door on the street side, opposite to where she sat. She immediately wondered how long he had been watching her and what that might have told him.
“Hope I haven’t kept you waiting Anna. I see you have brought some things to show me?”
“Yes. I mean, I haven’t been waiting long, and I do have the photographs and stuff although I can’t imagine what help they will be to you. I warned you some of the photos are far from professional standard.”
“Don’t worry about that! The photos are just a backup. I am more interested in what you can tell me.
I’ll order coffee and we can talk for a bit.”
Anna managed to nod her head in agreement and watched as he strode off through the rush of customers towards the order counter.
What was it about this man that threw her off guard? He always seemed to be more in control of a situation than she was. This was an unusual feeling for her. Knowing what to expect was a hallmark of her existence and probably came from years of teaching. She thought she was prepared for this meeting but as she saw him approach with a tray and a confident air that he had chosen the right coffee in spite of not having asked her preferences, she wondered again just what kind of person he really was.
“Okay! I ordered a latte for you and brought a selection of sugars, creams and milks. Did I get it right?
I confess I hedged my bets a bit by choosing a regular coffee also. I can drink either kind.”
“The latte is fine for me, thank you.” Anna fussed around with a packet of brown sugar she really didn’t need, just to gather herself while Lawren shrugged out of his dark blue pea coat or donkey jacket, as they used to be called. He was wearing a stylish paisley-patterned shirt and the colours made his peculiar gold eyes pop. She made a mental note not to fixate on those eyes while he was seated opposite her. Staring would not be polite.
“Start any time you want to.”
“Uh, what do you want to know?”
“Let’s begin with your mother. You said before that she was related to this Helen person in some way?”
Anna was relieved to talk about someone other than herself and launched into an account of her mother’s sad tale of family misunderstandings which led to her brother Simon’s tale about her father’s regrets late in life, and so to the marriage of her parents.
“Truly, my mother never suspected she had an aunt who was the child of my grandmother. Whether it was kept secret or just something to be swept under the rug because of guilty feelings on my grandmother’s part, I can’t tell. I never met my Scottish grandmother. My parents left Glasgow very quickly after they married because of a scandal that was brewing. Their departure, and, I suspect, their marriage, caused a rift between mother and daughter. In any case, I grew up with no idea of my family connections in Scotland.”
Anna suddenly realized that what she was talking about might be overheard by people in nearby booths. A long-held fear of private information causing public difficulties, that came from her teaching years, made her feel uncomfortable.
“Oh, please stop me, Lawren. I am babbling away here about ancient history and I’m sure that isn’t what you want to know.”
“On the contrary, Anna, I am very interested and not just because of the portrait you want, but also because my own family is riddled with secrets and problems related to ‘the old country’ as my father used to call it.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No! Seriously! My father’s family were landed gentry with a mansion and estate somewhere; in Kent, I think. My father fought with his parents over his choice of a bride and the result was that he and my mother fled the country and emigrated to Canada with little more than the clothes on their backs.”
“Goodness me! Did they ever reconcile with the family in England?”
“Unfortunately, no! My grandfather’s will gave everything to my father’s younger brother. My father was reluctant to contest the will after such a long absence of contact. I think he was happy to get away from the expectations of the upper classes and make his own life in the colonies, as it were.”
“Isn’t that strange? Our parents started out in the same way once they emigrated. It must have been hard for them.”
“I am sure it was. Building up finances with no family support is difficult at any time. Why do you think our parents’ generation never attempted to repair the relationships that were severed?”
“I am not sure.” She stopped to think; then continued in a low voice. “It may have been the distances between the different parts of the family, but it could also have been about forgiveness. When there is no forgiveness the pain and sorrow linger on and much damage is done.”
“It sounds as if you have given this a lot of thought, Anna.”
“Not until I discovered the whole mess with my mother’s family. Now I regret not knowing sooner and being able to ask questions. I might have been better prepared for the surprises that came later when I learned about my half-brother Philip.”
“What kind of person was your mother, Anna?”
“She was a hard-working nurse who took on night shifts to get a foot in the door of one of the large teaching hospitals in London. For a time when Simon and I were young, she must have worked two jobs. My dad had to re-qualify as an engineer and there would not have been much money coming into the house, and a mortgage to pay, I suppose. There were long spells when I saw her for only short periods in the day and that was when I began to spend after-school hours with my friend, Alina.”
“Oh, I misheard the name before. I thought you mentioned an Al.”
“Oh, yes! It’s an unusual name but she has been a true, lifelong friend to me.”
Lawren tucked away that piece of information and encouraged Anna to go on with her story.
“I never saw the resemblance until recently, but I was looking in the mirror and I thought for the first time that I now look like my mother in her later years. She took ill with some vile bug she probably picked up in the hospital and I had to have a leave of absence from teaching to care for her. I think it was the closest we were in our whole lives. Those final months showed me her true nature and I am sad I waited so long before I found out what a strong, brave woman she was.”
Anna stopped, sipped her coffee and tried to prevent a tear from forming.
Lawren politely fiddled with his paper napkin until she had recovered her equilibrium, and then asked quietly if she had a photo of her mother.
“I do, although it was quite a search to uncover it. I think digging around in past memories is the reason I am feeling emotional today.”
“Don’t apologize! It’s a fine and rare quality in a woman these days.”
Anna hid her blushes by opening the folder she had brought and withdrawing two photographs. One was a candid snapshot of Simon and herself on a beach with their mother. They were all three laughing at the photographer who was more than likely Anna’s dad, Angus. The other was of a much older Marion sitting in the garden of their family home.
“I am sorry there isn’t much more to show you, Lawren. I had to dig around for these. Our family was not given to displaying photographs. Perhaps they never had much leisure time to think of such things.”
Lawren took hold of the photographs and searched for the resemblance Anna had mentioned.
He saw a younger version of Anna in the beach photo. The same fine bone structure, long legs and arms and straight shoulders were there. The hair colour could have been a lighter brown than the bronzed colour Anna now favoured, and the style was much shorter these days, but much seemed the same.
As for the older Marion, Lawren thought Anna was much younger and the comparison was false. He knew how different the face one saw in a mirror was from that seen by an observer and he chose to say nothing in response.
“What did you bring with you that you associate with your mother?”
Anna stretched out her hands on the table top and waited.
He saw her narrow fingers and the white skin, lightly freckled, with the faintest hint of blue veins running through them.
He was admiring the shape and colour of her nails. They were devoid of polish and buffed to a healthy natural shine. It took another moment before he registered the fact that she wore a delicate ring on the third finger of her right hand.
“This was my mother’s engagement ring. She gave it to me during her last illness and insisted I sell it for whatever value it might have. It was not something she wore all the time. When she was nursing, she said the raised setting caught on rubber gloves and she was afraid of losing the tiny stones that make up the flower shape. I never had it valued and disobeyed her wishes. I wear it on my right hand so as not to confuse my many suitors.” Anna chuckled at this statement but her companion was not smiling.
He reached across the table and gently removed the ring from her finger. Anna was too shocked at such an intimate gesture to protest. He turned the ring around between his hands and looked for an inscription, then, finding none, he placed the ring tenderly on his pinky finger and covered it with his other hand.
When Anna looked at his face in surprise, she found he had closed his eyes. This gave her the chance to examine his clasped hands. They were the hands of a workman with short nails and blunt fingers. She could see a rim of paint under one or two of the nails and the cuticles were ragged. His hands were strong and very masculine.
She hardly dared breathe as she waited for him to speak. It was as if a bubble of silence surrounded them. The chatter and clatter of the coffee shop disappeared in the intensity of her concentration.
What was he doing?
At last his eyes opened. Anna noticed at once that deep golden tint. Then the bubble broke and normal life resumed with his next words.
“Forgive me. I just had to do that. Sometimes I can understand better when a beloved object is in my hands.”
“What did the ring tell you?” Anna’s curiosity overcame her natural skepticism at a stranger claiming to learn something from an inanimate object. She waited.
“It tells me you are more like your mother than you know, Anna. The ring has elements of both of you, woven together by love. She loved you dearly.”
Anna could not hold back the tears that came with these statements from such an unexpected source.
“I………I don’t know what to say. To hear that after all these years. Your words touch me deeply.”
“God, I didn’t mean to make you cry! I apologize for going off like that. I should be more careful when I get these impulses. Please don’t think I am crazy. I don’t behave like this with everyone I meet, I assure you. I hope I haven’t scared you away.”
“No, no! You surprised me, that’s all. I have never known anyone who could sense feelings like this.
Do you mean you can use this information when you compose a portrait?”
“Sometimes. I think the urgency you feel about the portrait you want is affecting my responses. Can you tell me about Helen now? What did you bring?”
Anna reclaimed her ring from Lawren’s hands and removed the last items from her folder.
“These are the best photographs I have of Helen. I like this one because she is smiling and most of what I know about her is so sad. The other is taken on top of the high hill at the rear of the house in Oban that I inherited from Helen. It is a magical place and I sat in exactly this spot myself before I knew Helen loved it too.”
Lawren looked steadily at each photo in turn. He saw a faint resemblance to Anna’s mother’s older photo but none to Anna herself. This woman was marked by grief. Even in the photo where she was smiling, the expression seemed forced, as if happiness was a foreign concept to her.
Anna placed the last item in front of him with the explanation, “This is a letter I received from Helen when I first went to Oban. It is the only portable thing I have from her that was meant specifically for me.”
Lawren picked up the page of handwriting but did not turn it over to read the words. He shuddered once and returned the folded letter to Anna, saying quickly, “This was written by someone who anticipated her own death. I can feel the sadness from it. “
Anna gasped. There was no way this man could have known what the letter announced. If she had doubted his abilities before, she no longer did.
“I must ask you, Lawren. Can you paint this portrait for me or not? I don’t know how much influence these things I brought today have on your decision, but I really must ask you to tell me now, one way or the other.
Lawren Drake looked straight at Anna with eyes that darkened as he spoke.
“I very much want to accept this commission for you and I will do my utmost to complete it in the time frame you have given me. I must advise you, however, that such work has a life of its own and I am not always able to force the pace. I will be in touch soon to let you know of my progress. If you agree to these restrictions, Anna, let’s shake on it.”
Anna reached out her hand realizing she was committing to a project that had an unknown price tag attached. At this moment she cared little about that. If this extraordinary man could produce a work approaching the quality of the examples she had seen in his studio, she knew she would be more than satisfied.
As their hands connected, a familiar voice interrupted the moment.
“Well! Look who’s here!”
Anna found two figures standing beside her table. Alina and Susan held cups of coffee but Anna was not deceived by that. These two were here to spy on Lawren Drake. She knew it.
Before she could summon up a word of disapproval, Lawren was on his feet and pulling on his jacket.
“Excuse me ladies but I have work to do. Goodbye, Anna. It was a pleasure.”
With that, he picked up Anna’s folder and left the restaurant.
Anna confronted an eager Alina and a shamefaced Susan.
“It’s not my fault, Anna. Alina got me here under false pretences, I swear. She tells me that is the
mysterious painter fellow. I was right. He’s not much younger than you and quite attractive in a sort of hippy way. He has a good head of hair.”
“You two schoolgirls had better sit down right now and explain yourselves. Alina, I am shocked at such underhanded behavior.”
“I told you she wouldn’t take this well. That’s her strict teacher tone. We’re in trouble now!”
Lawren Drake’s fingers were itching to get paper and pencils so he could capture his first ideas about the portrait. He hopped onto his bicycle and sped through the traffic on Richmond Street. This work was going to be something special. As special, he hoped, as his client.