by Hodge, Sibel
He strode across the room towards us. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Well, this is Helen’s challenge for the day,’ Charlie answered. ‘And I just wanted to see a willy!’
‘What are you doing here? I didn’t think you taught life drawing?’ I asked
‘I’m just standing in for the regular teacher who’s off sick.’
‘Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to come up with a Michaelangelo masterpiece. I can’t draw to save my life,’ I said.
‘Right, let’s get started then.’ Kalem made his way to the centre of the room. ‘OK, everyone, unfortunately Bob can’t make it today, so I’m taking this class. For those of you who haven’t seen me before, my name’s Kalem.’ He looked round the room. ‘Now, I’m sure some of you haven’t picked up a paintbrush or a pencil since your school days, but don’t worry. Drawing is about individual expression, there is no exam or competition with anyone else. Anyone can learn to draw.’
‘Apart from me,’ I whispered to Charlie. He hadn’t seen my unusual skills yet.
‘No, I’m serious.’ Kalem must have heard me. ‘Anyone can draw. But it really doesn’t matter what you draw. Practice makes perfect, as they say.’
The man in the bathrobe calmly slipped it off, revealing his defined muscular body and six-pack. He picked up a chair and placed it in the centre of the room, sitting down with his rather impressive wedding tackle on full display.
‘Oh, I say!’ gasped Charlie.
My eyes widened as I examined it closely. God, it was huge! How could he walk round like that and not do himself an injury?
‘Wow,’ I muttered.
‘This is Paul.’ Kalem motioned to the model. ‘Some of the best art is actually unplanned and spontaneous. Art should be fun, not regimented. You just need to go with your instincts and let them flow uninhibited.’
‘I wouldn’t mind getting uninhibited with him,’ Charlie said.
‘If you break down what you are drawing into smaller and more angular lines, this will help you see the real object. Now, there are popular methods for teaching drawing such as the grid method, whereby you break the picture up into smaller blocks and draw each block individually. But for this week, as there are probably a few regulars here,’ he smiled at a woman who was hanging on his every word, ‘I think we should just make it fun this time and let you draw away.’ Kalem swept his hand round the room.
‘I want to get cracking.’ Charlie was about to pop with desperation.
‘If you have any questions, I’ll be wandering around the room, so please just ask.’
I picked up a pencil, gawping with fascination at Paul. Where did I start? Was it best to begin with the head, or the feet, or even the wedding tackle? Biting the end of my pencil, I studied him, which wasn’t hard because he really was rather gorgeous. Looking round the room, I gazed at all the other artists who were pensively admiring him in an artistic kind of way, not in a pervy kind of way like me. Charlie was off and away with no such problems, getting fast and furious with his charcoal.
Deciding to start with the main outline of the body, I pulled a thoughtful face and concentrated on his shape. I stretched my arm out and closed one eye, holding my pencil up high in front of Paul. I didn’t know exactly what it was meant to achieve, but I’d seen other people doing it, so I copied them.
‘I am so good at this.’ Charlie swept his charcoal across his paper. I didn’t want to look in case I unwittingly copied it, and he got the hump.
I slashed the pencil over my page, trying to draw the outline of his body. After twenty minutes, I sat back and surveyed my work. It was not good. It looked very similar indeed to the Michelin Man, so I pulled the paper off in frustration and screwed it into a ball, sulking for a bit while I waited for a flash of inspiration. Charlie hummed away to himself.
Take two wasn’t much better. This one looked like the Michelin Man who had been on a recent diet, but still had tubby tendencies. Oh well, I thought, at least a Michelin Man was better than nothing.
My phone suddenly meowed and all the arty people looked around for a cat. One of the women must have been allergic to them as it produced a sneezing fit. Leaning into my bag, I flipped it open. It was Ayshe as usual.
‘Don’t forget family henna night tonight. Leaving at seven. XXX.’
I bent down to throw it back into my bag, but as I got up again, my shoulder clipped the edge of my picture. It went flying and hit the drawing of the lady sitting next to me. My jaw dropped as I witnessed her picture hit her neighbour’s, which in turn banged into the next one and then the next in a concertina effect, just like a pack of well-stacked dominoes. Paul watched the whole event unfold with amusement from the centre of the room as all the serious arty people glowered at me.
The blood drained from my face. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to everyone, glancing over at Kalem, who stood, transfixed to the spot, gazing back at me with a glassy, statue-like mask on his face.
Slowly, he dropped his gaze to the floor and looked at it in horror. He crouched down and busied himself picking up the jumble of easels scattered across the room as the rest of us spent the next ten minutes picking up our respective pictures. When we’d put the artwork annihilation back into some kind of order again, Kalem circled the edge of the room towards me.
I wiped a bead of sweat from my upper lip.
The rest of the class shifted away from me, dragging their easels and chairs out of and beyond knocking-over reach as I sat in stunned silence, willing the floor to open up and swallow me.
Kalem crept up behind me, his jaw throbbing. He bent over, lips touching my earlobe. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get me sacked?’ he whispered.
His breath tickled my eardrum. I gulped and shook my head.
‘For God’s sake, lay off the caffeine!’ he hissed in my ear and walked over to the other side of the room, as far away from me as he could possibly get.
‘Here, I think this is yours.’ Paul got up from his chair and handed me a piece of charcoal, whilst I scrabbled around on the floor collecting the stray pencils which were still strewn all over the place. It was a bit unfortunate I was crouching down because his wedding tackle veered dangerously close to my face as he handed it to me.
‘Thanks. Sorry about that.’ I averted my eyes to avoid a close encounter of the willy kind and sat back down, glancing about in case another accident just decided to happen around me.
Charlie leaned over to me, scrutinizing my work. ‘Excellent,’ he muttered at it. ‘That man is hung like an elephant!’
‘Yes, but it’s the size of it when it’s erect that counts,’ I said.
Then he looked slightly puzzled. ‘So what you’re saying is…it gets smaller when it goes hard, then? Because that is already colossal!’
Paul met my gaze and looked very smug. I slouched down, hiding behind my easel. When I popped back up he was gazing into space, so I started on take three, which took a couple of hours to bring to its full, stunning, work-of-genius potential. Now I went completely the other way, and it was more of an anorexic Michelin Man.
Kalem wandered over to Charlie, studying his drawing. ‘You might like to try drawing the whole subject next time, instead of just the penis.’
I glanced over at Charlie’s very eye-catching piece. He’d taken up the whole paper with a ginormous willy. He leaned back admiring it, looking very pleased with himself.
One of the arty looking women glanced over at Charlie’s drawing and gave a disapproving snort. Several frosty looks flew our way too.
Kalem glanced at the clock. ‘I’m sorry, folks, we’re going to have to wrap it up now. You’re welcome to take your artwork home with you or you can leave it here to finish off next week.’
I thought I’d leave mine and then everybody would be extremely jealous.
Charlie started rolling his up. ‘I’m taking mine. Think I’ll frame it.’
Paul, the-well-endowed, was suddenly overcome by a bout o
f shyness and stepped back into the bathrobe. He wandered over to my easel, studying it with interest.
‘That’s a very…interesting perspective. Will you be back next week?’ He grinned at me.
I glanced at Kalem, who shook his head at me in silence, miming violent throat slitting actions.
‘Probably not,’ I said.
‘I will be,’ Charlie butted in, then dragged me out of the door. ‘Come on, I’m famished. Shall we get a sandwich?’ he said to me, his picture wedged securely under his arm.
‘Absolutely, I haven’t had anything proper to eat for ages.’ I was ravenous.
We formed a disorderly queue at the sandwich bar and waited among the fellow lunchees. I ordered a melted brie baguette and Charlie opted for a plump-looking sausage roll. He had willies on the brain. There were some small booths along the sides and some bistro tables in the centre of the room. As we headed towards the only empty space left, I saw Emine and a well-suited man coming out of a booth on the opposite side. I stopped in my tracks and grabbed hold of Charlie’s arm, nodding in her direction. She hadn’t seen me, so I scrutinized her carefully. She was the complete opposite to me: very girly, whereas I was always more of a tomboy. While she was tall and willowy, I was short and – well, not exactly plump – especially after I’d now lost weight – but more sort of…un-willowy. And – ooh, maybe I should try and tame my messy curls and go for the poker-straight look like her. There was no doubt about it, she was beautiful with a wonderful figure and a permanently orange spray-on tan – I’m sure her teeth were bleached too – but to Ayshe and me, she always seemed a bit false and very shallow.
She looked at her companion, giggling and fluttering her eyelashes at him. I admitted to myself that although I’m not the most experienced when it comes to men, even I recognized a heavy dose of flirting when I saw one.
‘Who’s she with?’ Charlie murmured. He was worse than a woman when it came to gossip.
The man put his arm around Emine’s waist, and she gazed up at him with a lusty look in her eye as they moseyed out.
‘I wonder if Kalem knows what she’s doing while he’s at work,’ I whispered, tightening my grip on Charlie’s arm.
Chapter 15
I squeezed myself into my new skinny jeans, now that I was skinny – well, skinnier than I’d been before, anyway. I cut the tags off my new slinky top – courtesy of the freebie voucher – and shimmied into it. After applying some subtle eye make-up and lip-gloss, I scrunched up my hair a bit with some wax. Sod the super-sleek look: I didn’t have time for straighteners now.
I tottered up to Ayshe’s just before seven.
‘Are you lot ready?’ I shouted.
Ayshe swung the door open. ‘Come on,’ she grumbled to Atila and Kalem.
‘You know what it’s going to be like. Your dad will be pissed again and come out with something completely embarrassing.’ Atila balanced a cake tin carefully on one hand. ‘Especially as the men have to go in one room to drink Turkish coffee and brandy, and the women have to go in another and do their henna thingamabob. I don’t even like Turkish coffee.’ His hair flopped in his eyes, so he flicked his head back in order to see again.
When I saw Kalem, an awkward feeling niggled in between my shoulder blades. After what had happened on Saturday night, I was suddenly beginning to feel very uncomfortable around him.
‘Hi.’ I licked my lips anxiously, but he was his normal self and didn’t even notice me gnawing on my thumbnail.
When we rolled up at Yasmin and Deniz’s house the place was already heaving with family, shouting and gesturing wildly with their hands. To the casual observer, it would’ve seemed like they were having a row, but this was just an ordinary Turkish Cypriot conversation. Most people were milling around in the huge lounge with its big French windows and original wooden floorboards, sanded with care and restored to their former glory. An antique Turkish rug, a family heirloom passed down through generations, adorned the centre of the room. Two tables had been put together at the far end of the room and covered with a beautiful woven cream tablecloth. They were so laden with food they looked like they were about to collapse. Chairs had been arranged around the outside of the room so people could eat on their laps.
‘Merhaba.’ Yasmin kissed us all in turn, then hurried off to the kitchen to bring out yet more food.
I followed her and handed her a couple of bottles of wine and soda. ‘Here you are.’ I smiled at her, and she touched my face with the palm of her hand.
‘How are you, darling?’ she asked.
‘I’m fine. Food looks great,’ I said as my stomach shouted at me.
Kalem came wandering into the kitchen and stole a piece of bread from the basket his mum was about to take into the lounge. ‘God, I haven’t eaten all day,’ he said with his mouth full.
Yasmin slapped his hand away. ‘Doesn’t Emine ever feed you? Where is she anyway?’
I looked at him with interest, waiting for an answer, wondering if she was still with Mr. Business Suit. He mumbled something with his mouth full, but it was inaudible.
‘She’s a strange girl that one.’ Yasmin tutted, handing him the basket. ‘Here, take this into the lounge, darling.’
‘Have a look at this!’ Atila came in, took the lid off the cake tin and showed it to Yasmin.
‘Ooh.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘What’s that, raspberry coulis on top?’
‘Well, I’ve been trying a new mix which has got some kind of alcohol in it, and you have to try and guess what it is!’ Atila gushed. He was always talking shop with Yasmin, who adored cooking herself. This was evident by the amount of delicious stuff piling up in the lounge.
‘Did I hear the magic word “alcohol?” What’s the time? Is it whisky-o’-clock yet?’ bellowed Deniz.
‘Hi, how are you?’ I asked Ayshe’s dad.
‘I’ll be all right when I get some whisky down me.’
‘Hi, Dad.’ Ayshe gave him a big hug.
‘All right, you lot?’ Leila, Ayshe’s cousin, appeared in the kitchen.
Leila and I were both going to be Ayshe’s bridesmaids. Leila was lovely, with olive skin, gorgeous silky, dark hair and a beautiful face, but her voice was so cockney, you wouldn’t believe it could come out of a woman who looked like an angel.
There were hugs all round again.
‘I’m starving. When’s the grub up?’ Leila patted her stomach.
‘I think everyone’s here. OK, come and help yourselves,’ Yasmin shouted and a hungry swarm of people rushed to the food. A herd of stampeding buffalo had nothing on this lot.
‘Where’s that Emine?’ Deniz hollered past me to Kalem as we waited in the food queue.
‘Don’t know.’ Kalem picked up a piece of cucumber and munched on it as we moved along single file.
I loaded my plate with meze, pitta bread, helim cheese – which made your teeth squeak when you ate it – various types of salad and güveç, a traditional Turkish stew. This was the first decent meal I’d had in ages and boy, was I making the most of it.
I flopped down in a chair next to Ayshe and Leila and started stuffing my face, balancing the plate precariously on my knee. I definitely approved of Yasmin’s cooking, and the only times I had eaten properly since the Justin saga were either at Yasmin and Basil’s house or at Ayshe’s flat.
The room was silent for a while as everyone tucked in, apart from Yasmin who was reading the coffee cup of her cousin, an elderly spinster.
Yasmin tipped out the grains of Turkish coffee into the saucer and gazed at the black sludge with a look of deep concentration. ‘I definitely see rings! Yes, I’m sure of it. Mark my words: you’ll be getting married before the year is out!’
I threw sneaky glances at Kalem, who had now finished his food and played with one of his nieces. He looked so at home, hiding his face behind his hands and then whipping them away to her delight. Next he stole her Barbie from her and started role-playing, pretending that he was Barbie and talking in a high
-pitched voice. He danced the doll’s feet up and down her leg, talking to her in Barbie language. He caught me looking and smiled, which made my stomach lurch and do an unexpected back-flip. I averted my eyes in case he could read my mind and knew how I was beginning to feel about him. He would make a really good dad one day, I mused.
‘Is that how Emine talks?’ chortled Deniz.
‘Stop it now.’ Yasmin slapped him on the arm. ‘You’ve had too much whisky as usual.’
‘I’ve never had enough.’ He stumbled off to the kitchen for a refill.
‘So where we going on the ‘en night?’ Leila asked Ayshe.
‘We’re going for a meal at that big Chinese, The China House. They have a disco on a Wednesday night, so we can have a boogie, too,’ Ayshe said.
I felt bad because I hadn’t really helped to organize much for her wedding. But then she was so super-organized, she wouldn’t have let me anyway.
‘We went there once, a bit out of the way but the grub was nice. ‘Ere, Mehmet, it’s good in there, innit?’ Leila shouted across to her husband who was too engrossed in a conversation about V8 engines to answer her.
Deniz zigzagged into the room with a very large glass of whisky and sat next to me. ‘Now the children have gone upstairs to play, I have to ask something.’ He put one hand on his knee. ‘This has been bothering me for ages, and I want an answer from the men.’ His eyes darted round the room. ‘What is the toilet etiquette in a men’s loo?’
Ayshe and I cracked up as Atila slapped a hand to his forehead.
‘Eh? Wot you talking ‘bout?’ Mehmet wondered, also in a cockney accent which rivaled that of his wife.
‘Well,’ Deniz leaned forward, ‘Mehmet, if I give you a scenario, tell me what you would do.’ He paused. ‘If you go into the men’s and there are five urinals, which one would you go to?’
‘The end one,’ Kalem shouted.
‘Middle one,’ Mehmet decided.
Deniz looked around for any more offers.
‘The end one,’ Atila agreed, throwing his hands up in the air. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ’em.
