Michael scrolled down the page until he found what he was looking for. He clicked on the icon and waited. After a few seconds a new screen popped up. He bent closer and peered at the annoyingly small print:
Through a DNA grandparentage test, one or both of the biological parents of the alleged father can be tested to determine if there is a biological relationship to the child. Normally, we also recommend that the sample of the other parent is included.
He closed the website and shut down the computer and leaned back, rubbing his face wearily. What was he doing, where was the point in torturing himself with what-ifs and maybes, when in all likelihood he’d never lay eyes on the pair of them again?
And did he even want to? Was he prepared to find out that an uneducated, semi-delinquent creature was the mother of his grandchild? The thought filled him with distaste. On the other hand, the idea that Ethan might have left an issue, that there was something of him still on this earth—how could Michael not hope that was true? How could any father not yearn for some validation of his dead son’s life?
Every day the pain of losing Ethan was there. The torment that Michael had undergone with his son’s slide into drug abuse and consequent death never left him. It was as much a part of him as the beard he’d grown after Ethan had died, the beard that his daughter detested, but that for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to shave off.
What was he to do with these conflicting emotions? Was he never again to enjoy a night’s sleep? What in God’s name was he to do? He listened to the rain pattering on the window and he wondered yet again if they had a roof over their heads, if they had beds to sleep in.
He got to his feet, running a hand through his hair, and went out to the kitchen to check on the progress of a pork steak that he had no appetite for.
—————
“Look at the negative spaces as well as the positive ones—what shape is produced in the area between Jackie’s left arm and torso, for example? It’s a triangle, isn’t it? Can you see it?”
From her position Jackie was able to watch Audrey surreptitiously as she moved around the room, bending occasionally to murmur a comment, exchanging places with a student now and again to demonstrate a point, every so often throwing out a general remark.
“Don’t forget to map out the holistic form first—otherwise you’ll get bogged down in trying to get one part exactly right and then find that you haven’t allowed enough space for the rest, and have to start all over again.”
Jackie was amused to see that Zarek had brought along a dictionary this evening. Poor guy must have been lost last week. She’d heard Meg asking him about his family during the break, and his response had been comically full of mistakes, although you could understand more or less what he was trying to say.
No problem with his drawings though—from what Jackie could make out, he seemed to be doing just fine. She supposed you didn’t really need language if you had artistic ability.
Thankfully, she felt a lot more relaxed this evening. Not that she’d been totally nonchalant when it had come to peeling off the dressing gown—there had still been a degree of embarrassment, she’d had to steel herself not to meet anyone’s eye again—but really it had been nothing compared with the awfulness of the previous week. And now, nearly an hour into the class, she thought she might actually be starting to enjoy the experience.
I am an artist’s model, she told herself as she draped her limbs over the table that Audrey had covered with the sarong. Yes, I pose nude for art students. It’s nude, you know, rather than naked. That’s the artistic term. No, I don’t find it in the least intimidating—there’s nothing shameful about the nude body.
And none of the five people who were studying her looked at all concerned about her breasts not being very full, or how many ripples they could count across her abdomen, or whether she had too much pubic hair. To them she was an object, a shape to be reproduced on the pages in front of them, nothing more. Which was fine by her, of course, and which made it so much easier not to be embarrassed.
Or which would be fine, if she didn’t want one of them to see her as something other than just an artist’s model.
—————
“I run my own playschool,” Meg said. “Just opened it last month. Still trying to catch my breath.”
“Gosh, I’m sure that’s demanding,” Audrey replied, eyeing the Jersey cream biscuits and wondering if it would seem greedy to take a third. Meg hadn’t had any at all.
Not that Meg would notice if Audrey polished off the entire plate of biscuits, the way she kept looking across at Zarek and Fiona.
—————
“In Poland I work with computers,” Zarek said. “I make the programs. Here I work in chip shop.”
“That must be a big change,” Fiona replied.
He shrugged. “Is okay, but sometimes at night is not so good. Lots of drunk peoples.”
“I can imagine.”
“And you? What is your job?”
“I’m a teacher,” she told him. “Primary school.”
“Please, what is primary?”
“A school for young children. I teach the youngest of all, Junior Infants. My students are all four- and five-year-olds.”
“Ah yes—you are lady who say, ‘Welcome to my school, please enjoy your stay.’”
Fiona laughed. “I suppose so, except that it’s not really my school—I just work there.”
Zarek nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I make small joke.”
In Ireland, nobody got his jokes.
—————
“What do you think of Zarek?”
Jackie looked at Audrey. “I hope you’re not trying to matchmake.”
“Oh come on—he’s lovely. And he’s just about your age.”
Jackie turned to regard Zarek, who’d just been approached by Meg. “Ah no, he’s a bit too pretty for me…and anyway, it looks like someone else might be interested.” She scanned the rest of the lobby, which also contained students from other classes. “I see James has disappeared again.”
“Has he?” Audrey asked, hoping her face wasn’t going pink, but suspecting it might be. “I hadn’t noticed.”
—————
“Personal trainer,” Irene said. “It’s actually my husband’s gym—I was working there when I met him.”
Fiona’s eyes widened. “He owns a gym? Lucky you—he must be well off.”
Irene was half amused, half annoyed. The woman wouldn’t know how to be tactful if her life depended on it. “Actually,” Irene told her, “I didn’t marry him for his money.”
The smile slid from Fiona’s face. “Oh no, I didn’t mean—”
“My family owns Happy Shopper.”
Fiona’s mouth dropped open. “The supermarket chain?”
“Yup.” Irene took another sip of the horribly strong tea. “I believe the expression is ‘filthy rich.’ If anyone was a gold digger, it was my husband. So what do you do?”
“I’m a primary school teacher,” Fiona said faintly. “I teach Junior Infants.”
“How nice.” Irene wondered how many more minutes of break were left.
—————
“I take some life drawing classes in Poland,” Zarek said. “In the university in my town.”
“Thought so,” Meg replied. “You’re definitely not a beginner. So what other talents have you got?”
“Please?”
“What do you like to do, when you’re not working?”
“Well, I like listen to music, and sometime DVD watch, and I like also to swim.”
“Swim? You go to the pool here?”
“Yes, I go sometime, on Thursday in the night. If I no have to work.”
“Thursday,” Meg repeated. “I go there sometimes too. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
—————
Jackie wandered outside, needing to move around after sitting and lying still for most of the past hour. Thankfully there had been no sign of the protesting couple this evening—presumably they felt they’d made their point last week. Jackie had had visions of them bursting into the room, calling her all sorts of names, and throwing a blanket over her.
She walked briskly around the car park, enjoying the feeling of her muscles stretching themselves. As she approached a black Volkswagen she saw that there was a man sitting in the driver’s seat. He seemed to be on the phone.
By the time she recognized him it was too late to swing around, so she pretended not to notice him as she walked past, but there was no way he could have missed her. She hoped he didn’t think she’d gone looking for him.
Which of course she hadn’t.
—————
Had she seen him? She gave no sign that she had. It didn’t matter anyway, he was entitled to spend the break as he wanted.
“The frog climbed up the wall and—”
“Frogs can’t climb walls,” Charlie said.
“This one could, he was a magic frog. So he climbed up the wall and jumped onto the windowsill and looked in at the princess.”
The model had turned back towards the doorway. Break must be nearly over.
“He decided that such a beautiful princess would never love an ugly frog like him, so he hopped back down and lived sadly ever after in his pond.”
“Is that the end?”
“It sure is. Don’t forget to brush your teeth. Hugs and kisses.”
Shame you couldn’t change the endings as easily in real life. He hung up and got out of the car.
—————
“I let you off last week because it was your first,” Audrey said, “but now that you’ve all settled in, it’s time for a little homework.”
“Homework?” Irene repeated. “You’re not serious.”
Audrey smiled, not at all put out. It was an evening class; no big deal if they chose to ignore her homework. “It won’t take long, and it would be good to do a little bit of drawing during the week—like anything, the more you practice, the better you’ll become.”
“So what should we do?” Meg asked.
“Just find a subject and get them to sit for you. I want you to try doing a few short poses, like we did at the start. Four minutes maximum for each pose, no longer.”
“Do they have to be, er, naked?” Fiona asked, and a titter went around the room.
“If it’s in the privacy of your own home, why not?” Irene suggested. “Could get interesting.”
More laughter.
“No, not at all,” Audrey put in hastily. “Fully clothed is fine—and if you can get a few different subjects, even better. Just put them in fairly uncomplicated poses, and remember that all you’re trying to get down on paper is the overall shape that they make. Forget about details, we’ll concentrate on them later.”
The students began to gather their things. Jackie went off to get dressed. Audrey unplugged the fan heater and packed it into her basket.
“Excuse?”
She looked up to find Zarek standing by her side. “Yes?”
“You want we draw at home?”
Lord, she’d forgotten to make sure he understood. “Sorry, Zarek—yes, I would like you to try doing some drawing at home. Do you have someone who would sit for you? A friend maybe?”
“Yes,” he said, “I have two friend in my flat.”
Sharing a flat with two others. It didn’t tell her much; one of them could be a girlfriend. She hadn’t gotten to chatting with Zarek at the break yet, he was still very much an unknown to her.
But she still had hopes of him for Jackie, whom she was pretty sure was single. Not that Audrey would dream of trying to manipulate anything, but it didn’t hurt to keep an eye open, did it?
When he’d left, Audrey put on her jacket and walked through the empty classroom to the door. She switched off the horrible fluorescent lights and made her way up the corridor to where Vincent was sweeping the lobby floor.
“So how’s it coming along?” he asked. “Settling into it, are you?”
“Oh yes, I’m enjoying it,” she told him. “And I think the students are too.”
She was glad she’d gone for the evening classes, nice to have something to look forward to on Tuesday evenings. And it seemed that the group was gelling—apart from James, of course. Definitely the dark horse of the class—and if that was what he wanted, there wasn’t a thing she could do.
Plenty of time though, Audrey the optimist pointed out. Only two classes gone, four more to go. You never knew what might happen. She said good night to Vincent and stepped out, buttoning her jacket against the lashing rain.
—————
So loud the rain sounded on the roof of the shed—but miraculously there seemed to be only one place where it was actually coming in, and they could avoid that by moving nearer to the other end.
Carmel had put plenty of newspapers underneath them, but her hips still had bruises in the morning. They slept in their clothes, and used their jackets for blankets. She’d gotten two pillows in the charity shop for thirty cents. One smelled of cats, and was lumpy.
But it didn’t matter, none of it mattered. She had Barry, whose warm little body curled up into hers as he slept. She loved him so fiercely it terrified her. What if she couldn’t always look after him, what if someone tried to hurt him and Carmel couldn’t stop them? What if some drunken monster like her father found him?
She pushed the thought away, she refused to let it grow. Nothing like that would happen. Things would get better, she had to believe that. Something would come along—no, it wouldn’t come along, she’d have to find it. But she would find it, she’d never give up, no matter how many people told her to get lost.
She stroked Barry’s head softly and listened to the rain thumping on the roof.