Chapter 10
Ten
British star of Aesthetic Movement. Lesson notes: put sensual and sinuous style into historical context. Reaction against industrialisation?
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
The house which Johnny’s family had rented was a short distance away. They walked in silence. Callie didn’t have much option. The house was further up God Almighty Hill from Sea Haven House, Johnny walked at speed, and she only had breath to concentrate on the climb.
Eventually they came to the beginning of a track, very similar to the one which led up to Sea Haven House.
If she lived here permanently she’d have thighs like tree trunks Callie thought, pausing to lean against a stone pillar bearing the name Sandy Vistas and with a post box attached.
Staring over to the entrance to the public gardens, now shadowing away into the dusk, she puffed out, ‘Could we just stop here for a moment? I’d like to catch my breath. ’
Admiring the tub of purple nicotiana and silvery blue lavender, she snatched a quick photo on her phone.
The plants’ scent misted up, mingling with Johnny’s soap and spice and slight whisky fumes.
Before she could prevent it entering her mind, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him and taste the whisky on his lips.
Johnny leaned against the pillar too, alarmingly close.
‘Sorry. Did I march you up here? Bit tense. I haven’t had much to do with my family for a long time and this is the third social event in as many days with them.
’ He looked at her through dark lashes, his eyes glinting dangerously in the lowering light.
‘They’ll give you the third-degree, you do know that? ’
‘I’ll cope.’ Callie pointed her phone towards the gardens, needing to change the subject to one more neutral. ‘I found a really tranquil spot in the gardens today to paint.’
‘It’s where the castle is, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘They were getting it ready for the Shakespeare today. Moving scenery in.’
‘I’ve bought two tickets. You were right, it is Twelfth Night. My favourite.’
‘Mine too. It would explain the stormy coloured sheets of plywood being carried in.’
‘You’re welcome to come with me, if you like. The invite still stands. No pressure though. I can always take Jess. I’m sure she’d love a night away from the baby.’
‘Might be tricky if she’s breastfeeding.’
‘Ah. I hadn’t thought about that. There you go then. I have a spare ticket. All paid for. Best seats in the house. Or castle.’ He grinned, looking more relaxed.
‘I’d love to. As long as you don’t want to use the ticket for anyone else.’
‘Can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend time with.’
Callie felt heat rise into her neck and then into her face.
Hot flush, or power surge as her friend Donna called them.
Or the route march uphill at pace on a warm summer’s evening?
Or was it the effect of Johnny gazing at her, sardonically, eyes gleaming silver between dark lashes.
Clutching at something to say, she murmured, ‘Lullbury Bay must be a wonderful place to live in.’
‘I’m sure it is. Jess loves it here. Are you tempted?’
Callie lifted her hair off her neck, glad of the salty breeze which drifted up from the harbour.
‘To run away to sea, you mean? Who isn’t.
I live in Worcester, and you can’t get much further away from the coast than that.
’ She shrugged. ‘But it’s where my job is and, much as the stress of it is getting to me, it pays the mortgage.
Plus Frida has her life there. I couldn’t uproot her. ’
Johnny thrust his hands into his chino pockets, staring down at his suede loafers. ‘That’s your daughter?’
‘Yup. It’s where she went to school, where her friends are. It’s all she’s ever known.’
‘But you said she hadn’t really found what she wanted to do yet?’
Callie was surprised he’d remembered. ‘She hasn’t.’
‘So there might be a chance she’ll move away, for work maybe or to study somewhere.’
‘I suppose.’ Callie was startled. ‘I’d never really thought of it being a possibility. Suppose I’ve spent so long, nose down, working and stuff, I haven’t given any thought to her moving away.’
‘Would you mind if she did?’
Callie was beginning to see what a good journalist Johnny was.
His questioning technique was gentle but probing.
‘Oh, Johnny, I don’t know. It’s been her and me for so long, the team of two, that I can’t imagine her not being there.
’ She wrinkled her nose, thinking hard. Who was she kidding?
Frida, although some might say was an immature twenty-three, was a fully grown adult.
She may well want a different sort of life than her current one in a small Victorian terraced house in a Midlands city.
There was a whole world out there. Was that what was behind this sudden decision to go to Ibiza instead of accompanying her to Dorset?
Callie conceded Dorset might be considered tame by comparison.
She vowed to sit Frida down on her return and have a heart-to-heart.
She hated the idea that Frida might be putting her ambitions on hold so as not to leave her mother alone.
And, after all, wasn’t it a sign of love and good parenting that you knew when to let your children fly free?
Realising Johnny was waiting patiently for her to expand her reply, she muttered, ‘As I’ve said, I wish Frida could find her passion in life. ’
‘What are her strengths?’
‘She writes. Has done evening classes in creative writing. She’s a good listener. She’s an amazing friend. Kind, thoughtful. She’s working in an office at the moment in an engineering firm but it’s a bit dead-end.’
‘She writes? Maybe she could pursue that?’
Callie pulled a face. ‘Can you make a living being a writer? It’s like me trying to exist on art.’
Johnny smiled. ‘I’ve made a fairly good fist out of it.’
‘A journalist?’ Callie huffed. ‘I don’t think she’s hard-bitten enough.’
The smile widened. ‘You think I’m hard-bitten?’
‘Sorry, no I don’t.’ Whoops. ‘But you were very young when you covered some major stories, weren’t you? It must have had an effect.’ Callie felt the heat rise again. She was digging the hole even deeper.
Why did you blurt that out, Mum? Cool it, said Frida’s voice in her head. ‘Might as well come clean. I’m so sorry, I looked you up. Wanted to know who I was sharing a house with. You must think I’m awful.’
‘It’s the last thing I think about you, Calliope.
I completely understand you wanted to check up on the stranger who had barged in on your holiday.
And yes, I was one of the youngest correspondents in Iraq and yes, what I saw and had to report on affected me deeply.
’ He looked down and rubbed the S carved into the stone pillar.
A little of the mortar came away and he crumbled it into dust. ‘The longer I was in the job… what was making more of an impact was,’ he paused and swallowed a breath. ‘I’m not making much sense.’
‘You are,’ Callie urged. ‘Go on.’
‘I suppose what I’m trying to say was I was stopping caring, rather than caring too much.
I’d seen so much, had written about so many awful, tragic things, met people who were at the very edge of existence, out of all hope, that I was becoming numb.
And it terrified me. I knew I had to get out before I lost my humanity. ’
Callie gazed at him, sympathetic. ‘Isn’t that self-protection though?’ She shuddered. ‘I can imagine it’s a way of getting yourself through it. You have to remain somewhat apart otherwise you’d go loopy.’
Johnny laughed, a sour sound. ‘And a lot do go loopy. Or drink too much, or womanise, or burn themselves out and become embittered old men.’
‘I know it’s not remotely the same, but I understand.
’ She hesitated, questioning if what she was about to say was too crass a comparison.
‘It’s sort of the same with teaching. In a far milder way, of course.
I’ve learned to stay dispassionate. If I get too emotionally involved I can’t focus enough to do the job properly.
Obviously there are a few pupils that get to you but you soon realise there’s a limit to what you can actually do.
You’re a tiny cog in that young person’s life, and a mostly ineffective one.
’ She blew out a breath and paused, deliberating what to say next.
‘You can’t do a great deal about the dad who alternates between spells in prison and being at home and walloping his son,’ she continued, ‘or the mother who sees little point in letting her incredibly bright daughter go on to university because it “isn’t for the likes of us”.
I try my best, but I’ve learned the hard way not to bring my work home with me, the emotional baggage that is.
There are enough other stresses in the job. ’
Johnny nodded. ‘You’re right, it is similar.
You’re very wise, Calliope. I’ve hopefully got out of the job in time and I’m working on some issues.
The earthquake I covered in Turkey has left some…
scars. But at least I got out. Thousands didn’t.
The death toll was horrific. I’m investigating having counselling.
Might help. And at least I have that luxury, those poor bastards are still there. ’
His voice was calm and quiet but Callie sensed the pain. ‘You always call me Calliope.’
He smiled at her again. ‘It’s a beautiful name. Like you.’ Reaching out, he touched her hair, curling a lock around his finger.
Callie ducked away, embarrassed. ‘Red hair and freckles!’
‘Your hair’s like fire. You’d be a superstar attraction in China. Red hair is so unusual there. And why shouldn’t I use your full name? Calliope, beautiful of voice and muse to epic poetry. It’s a wonderful name.’
Callie felt her face become scarlet yet again.
No one had complimented her like this for years.
Actually, forever. She had no earthly idea how to handle it.
Smoothing down the hair she’d always hated – it was far too like her mother’s for comfort – she wondered if Johnny had had more than one whisky while he waited for her and it was the alcohol talking. Luckily, she was rescued.
‘Big bro, Callie!’ Jessica clambered out of a taxi which had pulled up outside the public garden gates.
‘Marvellous. We can all go in together. Callie, could I ask you a favour? Connor’s got the sprog but could you carry the bag with the baby stuff?
It seems I can go nowhere without lumbering along with at least three bags.
My once spontaneous and glamorous life is no more.
Come on, bro, you can help too. About time you learned what being a parent involves. ’
Callie crossed the road, took the baby bag, said hello to a tall thin man she assumed was Jessica’s husband and went to stand back by Sandy Vista’s pillar. She’d grown rather fond of it during the last twenty minutes.
Having unloaded and paid off the taxi, Jessica shoved her arm through Callie’s. ‘Once more into the breach, dear friends. Once more. Those who are about to die, we salute you! Ooh look,’ she said, changing tone dramatically and pointing to the stone pillar. ‘Sandy Vistas. Nice girl.’
‘I see your sense of humour hasn’t matured one iota,’ Johnny complained, ‘despite motherhood.’
And to his little sister’s raucous laughter they climbed the track to the party.