The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper(65)

“Good idea.” She laughed. But then her smile faded.

They had moved together urgently, unable to resist the force. He had groaned as he touched her skin, so warm and glowing from the sun. They made love quickly, Arthur still dressed with her on top. For a few moments afterward, she had lain there in the grass, on her back and completely naked and natural. She was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.

“Miriam, we...” His usual reserve returned. “Someone might come.”

“I know.” She reached for her dress, slipped it back over her head and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “Did you remember to bring cake?”

They had eaten Battenberg as they stole coy but knowing glances with each other and as they bid hello to a passing dog walker.

Although this sort of thing didn’t happen very often, he knew that she could be spontaneous and abandoned.

But he had thought it was just for him.

“So, are you going to do this?” Edith asked. She scratched her nose, leaving a smudge of charcoal on the end. She had thick black eyelashes like Miriam and wrung her hands together. “Purrleeease, Arthur.”

He found that he was trembling. If Edith hadn’t been there he would have held his head in his hands and cried—for those tender days with his wife, for the never-ending feeling of loss. “If I do this, can I keep my undergarments on?” he asked distractedly.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Ben is planning a piece of body armor based on the male genitalia. He needs detail. You do go swimming? People have seen you naked before?”

“Yes, but...not posed.”

“It’s just natural.”

“It’s not natural for me.”

“It’s not like we’re going to be lusting after your body.”

She was right. It was more likely that his naked body would provoke wincing or hunching of shoulders.

“You’ll never see any of us again.” She gave him a smile.

“That doesn’t exactly help.” He lifted up one of his trouser legs by a couple of inches to display his ankle. He’d always had brown legs even in the winter. He closed his eyes and pictured his wife again on the day of the picnic. “Take it off,” he repeated in his head, mimicking his words to her. He thought of how she had undressed within seconds, how she had been so unselfconscious. “Take it off.” He could do this. “Okay,” he said quietly.

“Great.” Edith vanished back around the screen before he could change his mind.

Arthur hesitated, wondering what he had just done, but then undid his shirt. His chest was okay, firm even. It was tanned with a few wires of gray hair. Miriam said he had a good body. He didn’t think at that time she had anything to compare it to. He shook his trousers down, then peeled off his socks and underpants. Finally he was naked. He held the dressing gown to his groin and sidestepped from behind the screen and into the room. Had his wife posed for one sitter, or a room full of people? A few of the students looked up. They wore expressions that could best be described as fed up. He moved to the chair, sat down and crossed his legs, covering his dignity. Edith nodded and he reluctantly allowed the dressing gown to slip to the floor.

There was a sudden pleasing sound of scribbling pencils and charcoal and rubbers scrubbing at paper. He stared straight ahead and focused his gaze on a light shade. It was dusty and a maggot wriggled in the lightbulb. Edith was right. He felt quite free, like he was a Neanderthal who had wandered out of his cave and into an art studio, which he supposed was a bit like what had actually happened.

At one point he thought he saw Adam poke his head around the door but he didn’t want to move and disturb his pose. He was warm from the small electric fire that cast an orange glow on his shins and he allowed his thoughts to drift away, back to the day of the picnic. He relived every single second of that delicious day and he was glad that he had his legs crossed.

After ten minutes someone shouted out. “Can we have a new pose?”

Without worrying about his nakedness he stood up and let his arms hang by his sides. He stared straight ahead.

“Er, can’t you, like, pose or something? You look kind of sad.”

“Tell me what to do.”

A young man strode over. He took hold of Arthur’s arms and maneuvered them so that one was outstretched and one was crooked. “Pretend that you’re firing a bow and arrow. I’m creating a piece of body jewelry based on war.”

“You’re Ben?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Just tell me exactly what you want, Ben.”

These kids were going to create a brilliant piece of jewelry or art with his help. When he had gone, his memory might live on, as a jeweled codpiece or armband, just as Miriam’s memory was doing in the paneled room.

It was then a thought hit him, and it was a strange one. He realized that he wanted her portrait to stay hanging in that room, even if she was naked. Even if she might not have known when she posed that the work would remain on display for so many years. It was a beautiful piece of art. It wasn’t part of his life but it was part of hers. People should be able to see it.

“You did good, man,” Ben said at the end of the class. “Do you want to see?”

Arthur got dressed and followed Ben and Edith around the room. It was strange to see himself depicted in twenty or so different pieces of artwork. He saw his body in charcoal, pastels, as smears, in paint strokes. These young artists hadn’t seen him as an old man. They had viewed him as a model, a warrior, an archer, as something beautiful and useful. He wondered what would happen to the art now. It would no doubt be displayed in portfolios, or proudly on walls. In twenty years from now, when he might no longer be here, his form might still be admired. Tears pricked his eyes. He recognized himself in some and not others. His face looked peaceful, at odds with the wrinkled, tired apparition that greeted him in the mirror each morning.