Johnny popped into the Community Café every day between jobs, soon becoming one of her best customers. He refused any freebies and entertained Dawn, Jennie and the other regular volunteers with stories from his gardening clients, especially Malcolm, stories about whom were always a crowd pleaser. His reputation preceding him, Malcolm himself came in from time to time, instantly recognisable from his purple hair, and having madea bit of a name for himself selling his potions at the fete. Johnny had volunteered to run some gardening sessions as part of the summer holiday workshops, teaching people basic skills like how to prune and what constituted a weed, how to take cuttings and sow seeds, often using the flower beds at the front of the village hall and around the pond. These gardening classes had proved very popular with both kids and adults alike, and Helena was amazed at how much she had now learned from Johnny over the past months gardening together. She was finally beginning to get the hang of it all and couldn’t wait to have her own garden one day. Raffy, especially, seemed to take a real shine to Johnny. They developed an easy rapport, and could often be found watering the plants together, tending to the insect hotel, or performing some other task in the flower beds, while Sandra nattered away to one of her friends.
Derek also came in almost daily, more often than not coinciding his visits with Margery’s. They would sit and drink cups of tea, eating pieces of cake, and reminiscing about the old days, telling each other stories about Jeremy and Mary, about Derek’s son and grandchildren, about loved ones who were no longer with them. It was truly heart-warming to watch their friendship grow, and Helena suspected that they may be becoming more than just friends. There were also many other faces who started to appear on a regular basis, building the café into their routine, coming to depend on it for all the reasons Helena had hoped it might be used for. It seemed Helena had been on to something; people were desperate for a place just like it.
38
IT WAS Abalmy evening; the baking heat of the early September sun had not dissipated, which was lucky considering tonight’s workshop at the café was a life-drawing class. Malcolm, who was more than comfortable with nudity, had offered to be the model. The first evening workshops they had offered over the summer had been a great success. Helena was running a weekly cookery class for beginners – Derek was delighted that he could now not only make himself a boiled egg for breakfast, but even an omelette or poached eggs. She had done baking masterclasses and there had been a sound bowl meditation run by Johnny’s yoga teacher client Giselle, who was now also offering a popular Monday evening yoga class. One of Jennie’s colleagues at the secondary school was running tonight’s session; her name was Willow and she was the art teacher there. She was just how Helena envisioned an art teacher to be, all flowing skirts and wavy golden hair. With her almond shaped green eyes, she looked like she’d stepped out of a Botticelli painting.
Helena helped Jennie and Willow put out the easels that they had brought over from school, each one set up with a wooden board and a sheet of parchment taped across the top. As the participants arrived, Helena poured them all a welcome drink and offered them freshly baked cheese straws, which smelt delicious, hoping that a glass or two of prosecco or beer would dispel any nerves and get people’s creative juices flowing. Malcolm, who didn’t drink, slipped into the bathroom to put his robe on. Willow had positioned a chair on a stage which she had fashioned from the same blocks they had borrowed for the band to play on at the fete. These had been delivered that afternoon by a red-cheeked Mr Knowles, who hadfinally plucked up the courage to ask Jennie for her number, much to Helena’s delight. She had thought she’d noticed some flirtatious looks as they’d run their stalls side by side at the fete.
As a final touch, Willow had draped the stage and the chair in a large piece of rust red fabric. Nervous chatter filled the air.
‘I haven’t done this since I was at school myself,’ Margery announced.
‘And which naked men were you drawing then exactly?’ Derek laughed, his rheumy blue eyes twinkling mischievously. He was already sitting down because of his dodgy hip; Helena had lowered his easel to the correct height for him.
‘Not nudes,’ Margery scolded. ‘Honestly! I meant drawing anything at all… a vase… a flower… I can’t think.’
‘Well, I used to draw quite a bit back in the day,’ Derek said. ‘I wonder if I’ve lost the knack?’
‘I’m terrible at art,’ Dawn said. ‘It was my worst subject—’
‘There isnosuch thing as being terrible at art,’ Willow interrupted. ‘As I tell my students, art is a feeling, an act of creativity, the process is more important than the result.’
‘Sorry we’re late,’ Johnny and Nathalie had both walked in at the same moment. Had they arrived together? Helena’s suspicions were immediately on alert. God, she hoped and prayed not. Johnny couldnotbe Nathalie’s mystery man. She honestly didn’t know what she would do if he was. She’d been worried enough when she’d met Giselle, but thankfully she’d spotted a wedding ring on her left hand, and her mind had been put to rest.
She felt better when, instead of following Nathalie, Johnny came straight over to her, kissed her on the cheek and gave her a hug. It was hopeless, now every time she saw him she had the same reaction inside her, like a bath bomb dropped into water.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said. ‘Is that another new dress? It really suits you.’
She felt herself blushing at the compliment, ‘Thanks, yes it is.’ She busied herself with her easel to disguise her flushed cheeks and offered to fetch him a beer.
She was wearing a coral maxi-dress and some gold dangly earrings, both of which were new. She was really enjoying her new journey exploring colour and developing her own sense of style once again. She realised she had completely lost her sense of self in the years with Noah.
He took his position at the easel next to her, asking Margery about her day and engaging Derek with some small talk about the cricket. Nathalie was across the room, next to some of her friends from the kids’ school, all of whom seemed to have been topping themselves up with the free prosecco quite liberally and were already pink-cheeked and merry.
Willow handed around some putty rubbers and sticks of charcoal, before calling for silence. ‘It’s lovely to see so many of you,’ Willow said. ‘You should be proud of yourselves for turning up today. Remember, as the great Henri Matisse once said, “creativity takes courage.”’
Some nervous laughter scattered around the room.
‘We are going to be using charcoal today, and before our wonderful model begins to pose for us,’ Willow gestured at Malcolm, who smiled graciously, wearing a purple silk robe to match his hair, ‘I will demonstrate some simple techniques you may wish to experiment with.’
Willow showed them how to vary the thickness of the lines, how to crosshatch and blend, and how to turn the charcoal on its side to drag it across the parchment. Once her demonstration was over, the class began. Malcolm dropped his robe to the floor and strode confidently across the room, climbing up on to the stage and taking a seat on the chair. Helena admired him for his total body confidence. He looked completely at peace with himself, fixing his gaze at a spot on the wall behind her and leaning back comfortably in the chair, his privates on full display.
As Willow circulated the room, she gave pointers to her students – all of which seemed impossible to understand. ‘Begin with the breath of the pose. Trust the first mark, it knows more than youdo. You want to draw not so much the thigh itself, more the idea of the thigh…’
Helena tried not to get the giggles at Nathalie’s mock-serious nodding along to the instructions. She was not surprised to see that Johnny was a gifted artist, each stroke he made seemed to capture the precise angle of each limb. A simple drag of charcoal across paper brought a shoulder, a hand, a wrist into three dimensions. No matter how hard she tried, Helena’s drawing looked more like the stick men she had watched Raffy draw over the years.
Willow stood behind her, nodding thoughtfully at her drawing. ‘Yes, very brave. Very brave indeed. Draw through the form, as if you can see the bones remembering themselves.’ Helena smiled as Johnny caught her eye. She found more and more often that they knew what each other were thinking without the need to speak. She was surprised at just how much she was enjoying herself. It was fun to do something so different. Willow was now by Margery’s side, squinting through her lashes as she examined her drawing, before asking her to imagine the spine as a question the body was asking. The advice continued along these lines for the duration of the hour until the session drew to a close.
‘We must thank our model, Malcolm, for being such a fabulous subject,’ Willow said as everyone whooped and cheered him.
‘You are most welcome,’ he said, before standing up and giving a small bow, then walking back over to retrieve his robe and have a stretch.
When everyone had left and Helena had finished tidying up, she was unsurprised to hear a knock at the door. She had found Malcolm’s phone on the bookshelf, encased in a cover bearing the words, “Your fate is written in the stars”.
As he pushed it open he said, ‘I’ve left—’
‘Your phone?’ Helena finished his sentence, holding it out for him. ‘I thought you’d be back!’
