Chapter 11
JED
It was mid-morning the following day and I heard Lucy’s voice on the stairs.
‘He won’t mind,’ she said. ‘I think he’ll be pleased to see you.’
I paused with my pastel between my fingers. Was she with Aaron?
Moments later, Lucy appeared. ‘You’ve got a visitor, Dad. See you later.’
She stepped aside and, sure enough, Aaron was standing there, his eyes cast down to the floor. I’d hoped he’d come in to collect Wally but I hadn’t anticipated a visit quite so soon.
‘Come in. I don’t bite, although Wally might.’
Aaron looked up with a ghost of a smile. ‘He’s here?’
‘Of course! I said I’d bring him in and I meant it.’ I put my pastel down and held up my grubby hands. ‘I’d better not touch him, but he’s on the chair by the window if you want to fetch him.’
The spring in his step didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the big hug he gave the wombat. He might be on the cusp of becoming a teenager but there was still a little boy in there, joyful at being reunited with his long-lost friend.
‘Wally was the model for the print you were looking at yesterday,’ I said. ‘He was good at it. Didn’t wriggle about too much.’
That even drew a laugh.
‘Did you ask your mum about him?’ I asked.
Aaron shook his head. ‘Not yet. Grandad went for chemo yesterday so it wasn’t a good time.’
‘How did it go?’
‘Okay, I think. He was tired when he got back.’
‘He’s a good bloke, your grandad. I hope the treatment does the trick.’
Aaron nodded. ‘Me too.’ Still holding Wally to his chest, he nodded towards the easel on which the finished sheep raft race rested. ‘I didn’t see the race. Is that what happened?’
‘Kind of. One of the rafts did disintegrate but there were also a couple of the teams who got into a punch-up. I decided it probably wasn’t best to capture that. Oh, and there weren’t any sheep but, you know, artistic licence and all that.’
I don’t think he intended for it to happen, but another laugh slipped out at my sheep comment.
‘Sounds dramatic. What are you drawing now?’
‘Come and see.’ He joined me by my easel where I was finishing the Boxing Day dip. ‘It’s nearly done.’
He studied it for a while. ‘How long does it take you to do one of these?’
‘It varies. I typically do a few rough small sketches and when I’ve got the concept I want, I do a bigger sketch and then I move on to the canvas.
How long it takes at that point will depend on the detail needed and the size of the picture.
Both these pieces are average-sized but detail heavy so I’ve spent longer on them.
Creating the final version can take anything from one to five days. ’
‘What’s on that one?’ he asked, pointing to an easel covered in a sheet.
I hesitated as it was the picture I’d drawn of his Boxing Day rescue and I wasn’t sure how he’d react to it. He’d been calm – if a little aloof – yesterday and was behaving in a similar manner today but how he’d react to the picture was an unknown. Although, a few minutes of courage…
‘It’s from Boxing Day too but there are no animals in it. It’s real life.’
He followed me to the easel and I picked up the corner of the sheet.
‘It might be familiar.’
I watched his face carefully as I removed the sheet. His eyes widened as he took a step closer.
‘Is that me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because what you did was special and I couldn’t stop thinking about it and, when I can’t stop thinking about things, I usually draw them.
It helps me capture the memory forever. And because it was you.
I had a proper proud dad moment over what you did.
You could have won the race but you helped someone in need instead. That’s amazing.’
His eyes glistened and I wondered if it had registered with him that I’d referred to myself as his dad again. If it had, he didn’t say anything.
He looked from the fancy dress version to the real-life one. ‘They’re so different. I mean, I know that one’s got sheep in it and this one hasn’t, but…’
‘They’re drawn in completely different styles,’ I said.
‘I love drawing the animals and they sell well but I sometimes draw landscapes and buildings. In the gallery in Sydney, I had lots of versions of the Opera House. I had playful reimagined ones with roos, koalas, wombats and so on, but I also had real-life ones with sunrises and sunsets, on sunny days, in the rain. By mixing it up, I build collections which suit different tastes while also keeping it fresh for myself.’
It felt strange having a conversation like this, as though Aaron was an art student interested in my creative process. I wanted to prolong his visit but I didn’t want to rabbit on about me all the time. I wanted to know about him instead.
‘Do you still draw?’ I asked.
‘Not at home. Declan hates me drawing so I have to do it in secret. My art teacher says I’m good at it. I want to be an artist or an Olympic swimmer.’
‘Maybe you could do both?’
He smiled and my heart melted. I’d noticed the use of ‘Declan’ rather than ‘Dad’ and wondered if that was for my benefit or whether Aaron had never acknowledged Declan in that way. It wasn’t the thing to focus on now, though.
‘What sort of things do you like drawing?’ I asked.
He put Wally down on the floor, removed his phone from his back pocket and scrolled for a bit before handing it to me. I looked down at a pencil-drawn skull surrounded by roses, predominantly in grey shading but with red hues on a few of the roses. Zooming in, I was impressed with the detail.
‘Your teacher was right. This is really good.’
Aaron told me to scroll forwards. He’d drawn a tree and a yacht which were both excellent, but the final drawing was of a cat and, although it was a good attempt, the facial features weren’t quite right.
‘The cat’s crook,’ he said as I returned his phone.
‘Animals are really hard to draw but you’ve got great potential. You might want to focus on just drawing the eyes. It can be tricky to get them right but they’re what really lifts the rest of it.’
‘Will you teach me?’
My heart leapt. I’d taught Erin and Lucy how to draw and I’d dreamed of doing the same for Aaron but never imagined I’d get the opportunity.
‘I, erm… I’d love to, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to teach you much before you go back to Aus.’ I was surprised he hadn’t returned already. The school term locally was starting on Monday or Tuesday.
‘We’re not going back yet. Mum wants to help with Grandad so I’m doing a term at school here.’
‘Oh! I didn’t realise.’ So he was around until Easter? Which meant we potentially had several months together.
‘So can you teach me?’
‘Of course!’ My shoulders sank as I realised it wasn’t my decision to make.
I hated doing it but I was going to have to put a caveat on it.
‘But only if your mother says it’s okay.
’ I could hear the regret in my tone and hoped Aaron picked up on it too, realising how much I wanted to do this but what a difficult position I was in.
He pouted and I had a flashback to him as a young child when he didn’t want to get out of the pool for bedtime.
‘Do I have to ask her?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And what if she says no?’
‘Then I can’t teach you, no matter how much I’d love to. I’m sorry. I hope you—’
‘Jed?’ Anastasia called up the stairs. ‘You’re needed down here.’
‘Be there in a minute.’
I turned back to Aaron but he’d already picked up Wally the wombat and was heading towards the door.
‘Don’t go!’ I said. ‘We can talk more.’
He shrugged and ran down the stairs.
‘See you soon?’ I called after him, desperately hoping I would.
When Lucy returned from her lunch, Anastasia went out for hers but it was busy for the next twenty minutes. As soon as the gallery emptied, I told Lucy about Aaron’s visit and his revelation that he was staying in Whitsborough Bay for the forthcoming school term.
Lucy shook her head. ‘Seriously? So Mum didn’t think her own daughters might like to know she’s sticking around?
What’s wrong with her? When we saw her on Boxing Day, Erin asked when she was flying back and she avoided the question.
I asked too and she said she hadn’t confirmed the exact date but at no point did she say the date would be months away. Why does she never tell us anything?’
Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes and I drew her into a hug.
I hated the way Ingrid repeatedly pushed the girls out like this.
It made no sense not to have told them she was here for several months.
She surely couldn’t have intended to keep it a secret.
Whitsborough Bay wasn’t big enough for them not to cross paths and Lucy and Erin were in regular contact with their grandparents so they’d have found out sooner rather than later.
I’d never understand how Ingrid’s mind worked.
I didn’t care how it impacted on me anymore but I did care how it affected our daughters and she should too.