‘Okay, so, this is lime wood – it’s really easy for beginners as it’s soft but strong. I want you to take it and use your senses to experience it.’
I looked at him slightly askew, and he gave me a nod, his face serious.
‘I mean it. Touch it, smell it, look at the way it has grown.’
It felt strangely intimate to be examining the wood in this way as he watched me closely, but I persevered.
‘It’s warm, isn’t it? And smoother than it looks,’ I said. ‘There’s more colour variation than I noticed at first.’
He nodded again.
‘Good. Now I want you to close your eyes and picture the star you want from the wood. Not the star you’re going to make, but the star the wood is going to give you.’
I raised my eyebrows but managed to stop short of rolling my eyes. This sounded like one of those things people say – and maybe believe – that is utterly inaccessible to me. I’m more pragmatic, I like to get on with things, rather than getting all woo-woo about them.
‘I mean it,’ Lando said. ‘Give it a try. Close your eyes and imagine that there is a beautiful star inside the wood that you are going to release.’
Not wanting to shatter the atmosphere, I shut my eyes and obediently visualised a star encased in the block of wood. The star was very like one I had seen in Present Box, rather than some beautiful creation of my imagination, but I didn’t suppose that mattered, especially for a beginner. I turned the wood in my hand and was surprised to find that my mental picture and the physical object somehow started to merge. Lando’s quiet voice broke in.
‘Are you ready?’
I opened my eyes and blinked a little.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Good. Now, for more complex sculptures I make a clay model first, but I think we can skip that stage.’ He handed me a pencil. ‘Draw your basic star shape onto the wood.’
I took the pencil gingerly, then put it down on the workbench.
‘I honestly don’t know if I can. I’m hopeless at drawing.’
I felt slightly panicky now, and sorry that I was ruining the moment, which had all the hallmarks of a romantic scene like the pottery one inGhost, but was instead making me anxious at my own inadequacies.
‘Penny, it doesn’t matter if you get it wrong, if it’s not perfect.’
He picked the pencil up and pushed it into my hand, wrapping my fingers around it. Did he know the shockwaves his touch was sending through my body? I looked into his face, so earnest, and wanted to reach up and stroke his cheek, draw him to me and kiss him, this gorgeous, complicated man. For a moment, a heart-stopping, slightly sickening moment, I thought I was going to do it. Much in the way I had visualised the star in the wood, I could see myself touching him, kissing him. I could feel it, almost as if I had actually done it. Maybe he moved an inch towards me; did he? I knew I was flushing, could feel my hand sweaty around the pencil, my lips parting. Could I step into adventure? Not this time. A flurry of thoughts thudded down on me, deadening my ardour and snapping me out of my vision.
You’re making a fool of yourself, Penny – and there’s no fool like an old fool.
Don’t get involved with another man, it’ll end in tears.
Lando doesn’t wantyou, why would he? Look at you.
You have to protect yourself, Penny, be careful, be careful, be careful.
I tore my eyes from his and addressed the block of wood with determined cheeriness.
‘Okay. Come on then, Star, time to let you out. Here goes!’
I started dabbing the pencil at the wood, until a convincing-looking star shape emerged. I held the finished product out proudly towards Lando, who took it and scrutinised it.
‘That’s very good.’
I nearly burst with pleasure.
‘Your proportions are a little wonky here…and here…’
I deflated slightly as, with a few deft strokes, he straightened up my star and made it look a hundred times better.
