‘Is that allowed?’ she said, smiling.
‘It is here. Anything goes.’
‘Is this me with my friends?’ Ella asked, pointing to three young females pictured in a huddle looking furtively over their shoulders.
Tom grinned. In a few skilful lines, Manny had caught the girls’ embarrassment.
‘You must be a professional cartoonist,’ Ella said.
‘No way,’ Manny said. ‘Just the dogsbody round here.’
‘Manny’s employed here keeping the garden under control,’ Tom said. ‘Mowing, hedge clipping, leaf blowing and tree surgery. Damned hard work.’
‘Anyone ask,’ Manny said, ‘I’m the estate manager. Saturdays he let me hang out here. Say it’s good for my soul.’
Tom moved on to the next artist. ‘This is Geraint. He works with a palette knife.’
Ella managed a twitchy smile at Geraint, a tall, gaunt man wearing a butcher’s apron marked with paint. Sunken, bloodshot eyes looked at her over half-glasses. Geraint didn’t return the smile.
‘See how the form is starting to emerge on the thighs,’ Tom said. ‘The slashes of blue and brown are bringing the lighter areas forward. It’s so much more than simple shadow.’
‘Fantastic.’
Geraint wiped the paint from the knife and she thought she heard him say, ‘Bloody liar.’
More knives of various sorts, from table cutlery to what looked awfully like a stiletto, were ranged on the donkey bench beside Geraint.
Ella took a step away.
‘There’s just time to look at Drusilla’s work,’ Tom said, moving on to the next easel, a pencil drawing difficult to interpret.
Drusilla came over from the window, a willowy woman in corduroy trousers and an ethnic sweater that looked as if it was made from an unwashed fleece. She was more gracious than Geraint. ‘There isn’t much to show for my efforts, dear,’ she said. ‘It’s a slow process. I don’t draw the model. I look at the shapes the background makes against his outline and if I get them right the figure will emerge. We all have fixed ideas about the way the human shape is formed, arms, legs, torso and so on. By ignoring all that, I trick my brain into producing a more honest image, if you understand me.’
‘I think so.’
‘Have you drawn from life before?’
‘Only other students in their clothes.’
‘Much more difficult.’
Tom said, ‘The headmistress would have a fit if they worked from the nude.’
‘It was the same in my day,’ Drusilla said. ‘All I ever got to draw was a vase and I was the despair of the art teacher. I could never get the ellipse right.’
The model had mounted the table again.
‘Is the model always male?’ Ella asked Drusilla when Tom had moved away.
‘Davy? We draw him more than anyone else. He’s good at it and he’s been coming for years. But we also have women from time to time. By the way, don’t let Geraint get to you. He’s a pussycat really.’
With another posing session under way, Ella checked the other artists. An overweight woman opposite, her hands black from charcoal. The man to her left wearing a clerical collar. Another man looked about eighty. Next to him was a tall woman in expensive designer clothes.
In the lunch break, there was a chance for the Priory Park trio to take their tomato soup and apple juice to a bench outside the barn and talk about the experience so far.
‘I nearly had a fit when we walked in,’ Jem said. ‘I didn’t know where to look.’
‘Haven’t you seen a willy before?’ Ella said.
Hoping she sounded nonchalant, Jem said, ‘Of course I have. It was just, like, so unexpected. Be honest, Ell, you were embarrassed, too. I thought they wore a posing pouch.’
‘Why should they? Women don’t wear anything. My sister went to a hen party where they were all given pencils and paper and supposed to draw a buck naked model. She said he was a hunk who worked out at the gym and he had a good laugh with them. Not like this guy. He’s gross.’
‘That’s mean.’
‘It’s true.’
‘You want a chunky model. Better for drawing.’
‘Listen to the expert.’
‘I was shocked, too,’ Naseem said. ‘I hope my parents don’t ask to see what I drew when I get home.’
‘Don’t,’ Jem said. ‘My dad would be round the school Monday morning. We can say we watched the artists at work, which is true. Let’s agree on that, shall we?’
‘But we can tell the others at school,’ Ella said.
‘We absolutely must. This is too good to waste. What did Tom say to you in the break?’
‘He was introducing me to some of the artists. Geraint, the one with the serial killer face. If you get a chance, take a look at his collection of knives, all laid out on the bench beside him. I said his work was fantastic and he called me a bloody liar, the only words he spoke.’
‘Charming!’
‘So who did you start up a conversation with?’ Ella said as if she’d been socialising all morning.
‘No one in particular,’ Jem said. ‘One looks like a vicar. I heard Tom call him Bish.’
‘A bishop?’
‘I expect it’s a joke.’
‘Someone’s coming.’
It was Ferdie, pushing a bag of compost in a wheelbarrow. Now that they knew he was Tom’s dad and the owner of the house, he would get more respect.
He stopped to speak. ‘Will you be coming every week, then?’
‘No. Some others will get a turn next Saturday. Tom says three at a time is best.’
‘How many of you are there?’
‘In our A-level group? Twelve.’
‘That’s not many. And will you become better artists by coming here?’
‘Tom reckons,’ Jem said.
‘Seeing how real artists work is a big help,’ Ella said.
‘You’re real, aren’t you? You look real to me.’
‘You wouldn’t call us artists if you saw our stuff,’ Jem said.
Ferdie wagged a grimy finger. ‘Never undersell yourselves. From what I’ve seen of the art world, there are no rules about how it has to look. It’s more about persuading people your product is special, and you won’t persuade anybody if you talk like that.’
‘We have to persuade Tom and an external examiner.’
‘No problem. It’s a matter of confidence. Those artists in there have got it. They believe in themselves.’
‘Be nice if some of that rubs off on us,’ Ella said.
‘It’s not for me to interfere,’ Ferdie said, ‘but I don’t see why you have to take turns to visit here. You could take your drawing boards outside and draw the scenery. If the weather’s bad you could do interiors in the house.’
‘I don’t know if Tom would agree,’ Jem said.
‘Never mind Tom. Would you find it useful?’
‘Incredibly useful.’ Jem was beginning to think they had an ally in Ferdie.
‘I’ll put a word in,’ he said before wheeling his barrow away.
The girls returned for the afternoon session feeling more relaxed about life drawing, a state of affairs that didn’t last. Tom announced that Davy the model would take up a new pose. Davy disrobed and stepped up with a wobble and a grunt and some minutes were spent deciding what was required. He was turned left and right and finally square on to the girls with legs astride and his member quivering.
‘OK for everybody?’ Tom asked.
The girls were incapable of speech.
‘Couldn’t he do something different with the arms?’ Drusilla said. ‘It’s too Neanderthal from here.’
‘Try it with hands on hips,’ Tom said to Davy.