Chapter 12 Slightly Glazed
Slightly Glazed
Once I’d put on my padded jacket and a scarf, I let myself out of the front door into the crisp, cold air. The threatened snow had not materialized, but there was still a glaze of frost on everything.
Toby and Pearl must have just left, for at the sound of the door closing behind me, they turned at the arch on to the coach house drive and waited for me.
It was odd to see Pearl without her sister. She seemed to take on a little more shape and solidity by herself.
‘I think we might be the only takers for the pottery tour,’ Toby said as I caught up with them.
‘Opal’s gone to explore possible locations for filming later,’ Pearl said. ‘But I’m really keen on ceramics. I loved it when we were doing our art foundation year and wanted to keep on with it, only Opal thought …’ She tailed off.
‘I quite enjoyed that part of my foundation year too,’ I agreed, ‘but I liked metalwork better. I knew by then anyway that I really wanted to study graphic art, because I’d already had ideas for children’s books.’
‘I’m just generally interested, and I love those Pottery Throw Down programmes,’ Toby said as we headed down the narrow drive through a lot of shrubbery. ‘I especially like the magical way a potter can make a shape grow on the wheel from just a lump of clay.’
‘When I tried, mine all came out like dog bowls,’ I said. ‘It sounds as if they produce mainly cast ceramics here, although I don’t know what form Timon’s own artwork takes, of course.’
We arrived at a large wooden-gated arch in the back of a long building and went through a small door let into one half of it into a large courtyard with buildings around three sides.
Even if we hadn’t been told, it would have been evident that it had once been stables, coach houses and barns, before it was extended and remodelled.
There was a sign on the far side proclaiming the Triskelion Gallery and Cafe.
Timon, spotting us from the window of what seemed to be a small office by the gate, came out to greet us.
‘Hello, have you come for the tour?’ he said, smiling at us. ‘I was starting to think no one was interested.’
‘I think it’s just us three, but we’re really looking forward to seeing what you do here,’ Toby said.
‘My manager usually takes the tours, but I like to take our retreat guests round myself,’ said Timon, and he started by showing us his own studio and the series of ceramic sculptures he was currently working on for an exhibition.
They were very large and organic, looking as if they had grown there on the workbench, especially the finished ones, which were glazed in shades of pale greenish-white with hints of lilac and lavender.
The rest of the tour, taking in all the various stages of manufacture, from the storage of the raw clay right through to the workshop near the gallery, where robes and other accessories were created for the fabric-bodied porcelain-faced figures they also now produced, was fascinating.
Everyone working there seemed absorbed and busy in their own part of the process and hardly aware of us.
It appeared that working with porcelain was very different from working with other types of clay.
Pearl was surprisingly knowledgeable about it, and she and Timon were soon engaged in a discussion, in which phrases like ‘bisque first firing’, ‘underglaze decoration on to the porous surface’ and ‘final glazing’ left Toby and me slightly glazed, too.
When it was called Triskelion Art Porcelain, the pottery produced figurines, vases and other decorative items, specializing in characters from history and legend, especially Welsh legends.
Since then, the addition of the fabric-bodied figures with porcelain hands and faces, some very big, had been extremely successful.
‘Of course, at this time of year Father Christmas and the angel figures are most popular,’ Timon said, as I reluctantly put a finished Santa back on its shelf. It was about eighteen inches high with a benign expression and fur-trimmed red satin robes over a conical support so that he stood up.
‘But so too are many others of our figures, including all the characters from the Winter Solstice. You’ll find them all in the gallery shop,’ he added encouragingly as we emerged back into the courtyard.
‘It’s run by Bronwen’s daughter, Megan. We sell our work through many outlets, of course, but the gallery and cafe are very popular with our visitors. ’
‘Do you get many?’ asked Toby, as we watched two or three people cross towards the cafe door.
‘Quite a few, even in winter, but lots more in the tourist season. We give tours round the pottery to small groups. They have to be brought in by minibus because the road is unsuitable for coaches. There’s a small car park at the bottom end of the village, and visitors to St Melangell can also walk here along the cliff path. ’
We thanked him, and Toby and I assured him we’d really enjoyed the tour, while Pearl said wistfully that she would love to try her hand with porcelain.
Timon kindly said that she could come down and do so at any time, if she wished.
‘I’d love to, if Opal …’ stammered Pearl, a faint pink flush in her cheeks. ‘I mean, I’d absolutely love to, if I can!’
Timon went back in and Toby said to Pearl, ‘You should make time to do the things you really want to. This will all be part of the creative process, won’t it? Just different from what you usually do with your sister.’
She cast him a grateful look, cheeks flushing an even deeper pink. It was like a marble statue coming alive!
‘That’s what I think, too,’ she said gratefully. ‘Art shouldn’t keep within rigid boundaries, or you end up just repeating the same old ideas … but Opal doesn’t quite see it like that.’
Oblivious that we were standing in a freezing cold yard – the sun was doing little to warm up the air – they fell into a discussion that both seemed to find engrossing.
Pearl was such a different person without Opal’s presence that I wasn’t surprised Toby seemed no longer nervous of her.
Now the two of them were chatting together quite naturally.
Pearl still cast the occasional admiring glance at him, but then, he was the most strikingly handsome young man, so you couldn’t really blame her for that.
Leaving them to chat, I headed back towards the house. I’d have loved to see the gallery, but that could wait for another day.
I bumped into Evie on the front step. She was wearing a long, sweeping mole-grey coat and a fake fur hat, and looked even more like some fantastic bird than she usually did.
‘Where have you been?’ I demanded, taking in her somewhat smug expression.
‘To visit Noel’s bookshop – and he’s invited me back for tea this afternoon,’ she said. ‘That man is an absolute goldmine of local history.’
She indicated a paper carrier printed on the side with A Winter’s Tale Bookshop. ‘I’ve bought copies of three of his books and shorter guides on the subject. One of the books has a whole chapter about artists living in the area between the wars.’
‘That does sound useful,’ I admitted.
‘I hope so, and he’s also going to try and find some additional material on the subject, which he’s sure he still has. It’s a rabbit warren of tiny rooms, that place! He lives over it,’ she added, ‘but he most often eats his dinner here.’
‘I must visit it. I’d like to read up on local history, too, especially this Solstice ceremony, which sounds a fascinating hotchpotch of old and new influences.’
‘I told Noel about our connection with the family and my research into Arwen Madoc’s time here,’ Evie said, ‘although of course we aren’t connected to him in the least. He is a different branch of the family.’
‘Good, because I think one newly found distant relative is enough to be going on with. I’m not sure Nerys was altogether delighted to find out about that this morning.’
‘No, she wasn’t, was she?’ mused my mother. ‘Or about the subject of my research, and I really can’t imagine why, unless she has something to hide …’
‘Or she just might not fancy us as relatives,’ I pointed out, just as Toby and Pearl caught us up.
A sharp rap on the door with the brass Green Man knocker brought Tudor to let us into the warmth of the hall, which had a fragrant scent of resinous pine and spices.
There was a delicious smell wafting from the dining room, too.
Evie’s aquiline nose twitched. ‘Vegetable soup and freshly baked bread, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘You aren’t. Bronwen’s made cream of vegetable soup and there are hot bread rolls,’ confirmed Tudor as we all piled our coats on to the hall stand and went through.
The buffet lunch was just as lavish as breakfast, with potato salad, winter slaw, mushroom paté, sliced cold meat and cheese, as well as the hot soup and rolls.
We all filled our plates and took our places at the long table, hungry after our busy morning. Kate, Verity and Opal were already there and the latter gave her sister a very cold look when she joined her.
Snookums came out of the kitchen and wandered around the table, looking hopeful, and then settled warmly on my feet. Perhaps he could sense a soft touch, and that I’d be unable to resist slipping him a bit of ham when Nerys wasn’t looking.
‘We don’t wait for Timon, because he usually has a sandwich from the gallery cafe,’ said Nerys.
‘And Rhys crashed out after he got back from dropping Cariad off at the castle this morning, as I knew he would, and is sleeping off his jet lag. He always suffers from it, and needs to be rested ready for the ceremony tonight and his lead role as the Druid.’
‘I never get jet lag,’ said Evie complacently. ‘But my PA, Liv, is pretty useless for at least a day after we go somewhere long haul.’
When we’d finished and had our coffee, Nerys said she would leave us to our own devices, because she wanted to work on in the studio while the light held.
‘My painting just needs a few final touches, I think.’
‘I must finish my watercolour too. Those flowers are drooping more by the second and some petals have started to fall off, so they will be past it by morning,’ Verity said, rather aggrievedly, as if it was Nerys’s fault, although short of gluing the petals back on I don’t see what else she could have done about it.
After all, she hadn’t set up the flower arrangement for Verity’s benefit, and I thought it generous of her to share her studio with visiting artists.
Nerys got up. ‘Coffee, tea and cake in here if anyone feels like company around half past three – it’s a scrummy-looking Christmas cake made by Ginny.’
‘I’d already made it before I knew I was going away for Christmas,’ I explained, ‘so I brought it with me.’
‘Now, you won’t forget, everyone, that dinner is at six tonight, so we’re finished in good time for the Winter Solstice procession at eight. Drinks and canapés before dinner in the living room will be earlier too, around half five.’
Kate, who had silently consumed enough food for three people during our repast, looked cheered by this prospect, but I didn’t think she would be hiking up the hill in the dark, unless they told her there was food at the top.
‘It’s going to be bitterly cold tonight, but the trek up the hill will warm us up. As will the bonfire. Then back down again for the hot wassail punch on the green!’ said Nerys. ‘The forecast isn’t ruling out a white Christmas, but we could do without snow until after tonight.’
‘Snow could make for interesting angles to our work,’ murmured Opal. ‘Snow changes everything.’
‘It certainly changes how easy it is to navigate the road in and out of Seren Bach,’ Nerys agreed drily. ‘But you can always walk in by way of the cliff path. It’s partly exposed, but usually navigable on foot.’
‘Well, come along, Pearl,’ commanded Opal. ‘I need to show you all the possible locations I found this morning, while you were wasting time.’
Pearl exchanged a brief look with Toby, who smiled encouragingly, and she said, ‘I wasn’t wasting time. It was really interesting, Opal.’
But she got up obediently and followed her sister out meekly enough. Old habits die hard, but I thought possibly the first small seeds of rebellion might have been sown.