The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(63)

He asked at reception after Ms. Yardley in the art or jewelry department. The lady behind the desk had a phone glued to one ear and a mobile phone to the other. She spoke into them in turn. At the same time she had a file opened in front of her and she studied it. When she had hung up both the phones, Arthur said, “You need another arm.”

“Huh?” She glared at him, as if poised to deal with yet another student who had lost their iPhone.

“Like an octopus, so you can do all the stuff you need to do.”

“Tell me about it.” The woman popped a piece of chewing gum in her mouth. She had a round face and her platinum hair was pulled into a tight bun. “Are you here for the silver surfer’s club?”

“Surfing? They do that here?”

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“No.” He had no idea what she was talking about. “I’m looking for the jewelry department. I’m hoping to find a Sonny Yardley.”

“Not today you won’t. She’s off sick. Been off for a few weeks now.”

Arthur’s hopes sank. “But she does work here?”

“She does, but she only does part-time. It’s her last term and she’s about to retire. You could try Adam. He’s been taking her classes. Room 304.”

The receptionist directed him to the room, which was in an old part of the college. When he had arrived, the foyer had been modern, lined with glass. A long walkway connected that building to another redbrick Victorian one. The windows were tall with lots of small panes and the walls were tiled in shiny bottle-green and cream slabs. It reminded him of being back at school. Any moment now his old teacher, Mrs. Clanchard would appear from a classroom, threateningly slapping a wooden ruler against her palm. He shuddered and carried on, reading the signs on the doors. Ceramics studio, sculpture, papermaking, glass. He finally found 304.

There was a circle of students in the room. Some stood at easels and others sat on wooden benches. All were facing blank white sheets of paper. A man stood in the center of the room. He was older than the others and wore a red checked shirt and jeans through which his knees poked. He dug a hand into his hair.

Arthur tapped him on the shoulder. “Adam?”

“Yes!” the man said as if his football team had scored. “Oh, thank God you’re here. We’ve been waiting.”

The reception lady must have phoned ahead. “I’m Arthur Pepper. I...”

“Arthur. Yes. That’s fine.” Adam twitched. “Look. I need to make a call. My wife is threatening to leave me again. If I don’t phone, she will cut off my balls. Come into this room. I’ll only be five minutes.” He moved swiftly and Arthur followed.

Arthur thought that five minutes seemed like rather a short period of time to win around a spouse, especially if she had a knife, but he did as he was told.

“Stay here for a moment,” Adam said.

The room was wood paneled. He had watched a Harry Potter film on TV once and the room reminded him of Hogwarts. There was an old oak desk with a green leather top, and artwork lined the walls. He strolled around and admired the work. After studying the third work (a charcoal drawing, very expressive), he realized that all the subjects were naked. Both men and women. They stretched, stood and sat for their portraits. With an amateur eye, he classed some as very good studies with clear brushstrokes, a nice use of color and the faces and expressions were well done. Others, he didn’t really understand. They seemed to be little more than a collection of angry brushstrokes, scribbles and splashes of paint. Each was dated and the dates ran in succession. It appeared that a piece of artwork was added to the room each year.

He was working around the room the wrong way so he looked at the recent work first before he found his way to the seventies, then sixties. There was a painting at the end of the row that drew his eye. Unlike the other works this lady was smiling, as if she knew the artist and was posing especially for them rather than as a job. Her breasts jutted proudly outward. Her lips were parted. She looked more than a little like Miriam. He smiled at the resemblance.

Then his smile faded.

He studied the portrait again, stepping closer to the frame. He took in the aquamarine of the sitter’s eyes, then the birthmark on her left hip. She had always hated that birthmark. It resembled a hot-air balloon with a large circular shape and then a small square beneath it.

Arthur found himself staring at a naked painting of his wife.

“Right.” Adam burst back into the room. He knitted his hand into his hair. “She won’t bloody listen to me. Hung up, in fact. I have to call her back. She doesn’t usually respond until I’ve rung her at least fifteen times. She judges how much I want her back by the number of calls I make. It’s a game but if I want to keep her, then I have to play it. God, I could do without this. Anyway, the students are getting restless. Follow me.”

Arthur followed him to the original room. The students were still standing around, chatting and looking bored.

The portrait of his wife was stuck in his head. When had she posed? Who had she posed for? Why was she naked? He felt dazed, unable to focus on where he was and what he was here to ask. He put one foot in front of the other but felt as if he was floating rather than walking. He had expected a conversation, a mere yes or no that someone could tell him about the paint palette charm, but now he had discovered this. Just who had Miriam Pepper been?