The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper

by Phaedra Patrick

  He expelled his breath when an answerphone message announced the college was open between the hours of nine and five and would he like to leave a message stating the department and person he wanted to contact.

  He asked that Sonny Yardley phone Arthur Pepper as soon as possible. He left his home and mobile numbers.

  At ten-thirty the next day, when he had received no reply, he left another message and then one at just past four, also. In between he rang Bernadette, but again she wasn’t there.

  The day after that he decided to call around to Bernadette’s in person. When he left the house, Terry was mowing his lawn.

  “How are things with your daughter, Arthur?”

  “All good, thanks. We went to Paris for a long weekend.”

  “Ah, yes, she said you had. It sounds fantastic.”

  “She told you about our break?” Arthur frowned. He hadn’t realized that Lucy and Terry were acquainted. “When?”

  “I bumped into her at school. I was looking after my niece and we got chatting.” He gazed off into the distance for a moment, then refocused on Arthur. “Is she coming ’round for tea soon, then?”

  “Probably.”

  “So, does she live far?”

  “Oh. No. Not too far.”

  “That’s good. It’s nice for family to live close together.”

  Arthur nodded at the lawn. “Why do you keep mowing it?” he asked. “It doesn’t need doing that often.”

  “No. It keeps me busy. I like things neat and tidy. My wife used to have me doing it this often, when we were together.”

  “I didn’t know you were married.”

  “We moved back up here from the Midlands and things didn’t work out. I’ve been divorced for over a year now. I’ve been single long enough. It would be nice to meet someone new to share things with. Is Lucy, er, with anyone at the moment?”

  “She split up with her husband a while back.”

  Terry shook his head. “That’s tough.”

  “It was. She’s a lovely girl.”

  “She seems very caring, Arthur. Families should be like that, shouldn’t they? Looking out for one another. We moved to look after my mum when she had her fall. I wanted to do it. I couldn’t let her struggle on her own or have a stranger doing it. My ex-wife had a bit of a grumble about relocating, but she liked it here after all.” He gave a wry smile. “She met someone else and left me for him.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Terry shrugged. “I tried hard to make it work, but it wasn’t to be.”

  “And your mum...?”Arthur said cautiously.

  “Oh, she’s as right as rain.” Terry laughed. “I see her most days. She’s even got a boyfriend. He’s a lovely fella who lives two doors down from her. We all go for lunch most Sundays. Anyway, I’d better get back to work, mowing my lawn, hunting for tortoises. Will you tell Lucy that I asked after her?”

  “Yes. Will do. Cheerio.” As Arthur started to walk away he wondered if Terry’s well-wishes for Lucy were more than just friendly, and he decided that he didn’t mind if they were.

  At Bernadette’s house he knocked on the door. The windows to the sitting room were open so he would imagine that someone was inside. He pictured her in the hallway, her back pressed against the wall, hiding from him. How had he been so cruel and ridiculous? He could hear the faint tinny sound of rock music and he stood and shouted out, “Nathan?” But there was no reply.

  Feeling it was too forward to go around the back of the house, he returned home. The red light on his answer machine was unblinking. Sonny Yardley still hadn’t returned his call.

  He would have to take matters into his own hands.

  * * *

  Scarborough College was a swarm of students. They moved as if one, through the reception area and into the corridors that led off it like a termite mound. The youth and vitality surrounding Arthur made him feel very, very old. These young people would think they had their whole lives in front of them, unaware that it would pass in the blink of an eye.

  It was easy to picture Miriam among them. Some of the fashions were the same—dark eyes, heavy fringes kissing eyelashes, short neat skirts. She had started to wear more grown-up clothes when they started dating, as if she had shelved part of her personality when they met. There were some trends that surprised him, too—holes through eyebrows, tattoos everywhere.

  He asked at reception after Ms. Yardley in the art or jewelry department. The lady behind the desk had a phone glued to one ear and a mobile phone to the other. She spoke into them in turn. At the same time she had a file opened in front of her and she studied it. When she had hung up both the phones, Arthur said, “You need another arm.”

  “Huh?” She glared at him, as if poised to deal with yet another student who had lost their iPhone.

  “Like an octopus, so you can do all the stuff you need to do.”

  “Tell me about it.” The woman popped a piece of chewing gum in her mouth. She had a round face and her platinum hair was pulled into a tight bun. “Are you here for the silver surfer’s club?”

  “Surfing? They do that here?”

  “Are you trying to be funny?”

  “No.” He had no idea what she was talking about. “I’m looking for the jewelry department. I’m hoping to find a Sonny Yardley.”

  “Not today you won’t. She’s off sick. Been off for a few weeks now.”

  Arthur’s hopes sank. “But she does work here?”

  “She does, but she only does part-time. It’s her last term and she’s about to retire. You could try Adam. He’s been taking her classes. Room 304.”

  The receptionist directed him to the room, which was in an old part of the college. When he had arrived, the foyer had been modern, lined with glass. A long walkway connected that building to another redbrick Victorian one. The windows were tall with lots of small panes and the walls were tiled in shiny bottle-green and cream slabs. It reminded him of being back at school. Any moment now his old teacher, Mrs. Clanchard would appear from a classroom, threateningly slapping a wooden ruler against her palm. He shuddered and carried on, reading the signs on the doors. Ceramics studio, sculpture, papermaking, glass. He finally found 304.

  There was a circle of students in the room. Some stood at easels and others sat on wooden benches. All were facing blank white sheets of paper. A man stood in the center of the room. He was older than the others and wore a red checked shirt and jeans through which his knees poked. He dug a hand into his hair.

  Arthur tapped him on the shoulder. “Adam?”

  “Yes!” the man said as if his football team had scored. “Oh, thank God you’re here. We’ve been waiting.”

  The reception lady must have phoned ahead. “I’m Arthur Pepper. I...”

  “Arthur. Yes. That’s fine.” Adam twitched. “Look. I need to make a call. My wife is threatening to leave me again. If I don’t phone, she will cut off my balls. Come into this room. I’ll only be five minutes.” He moved swiftly and Arthur followed.

  Arthur thought that five minutes seemed like rather a short period of time to win around a spouse, especially if she had a knife, but he did as he was told.

  “Stay here for a moment,” Adam said.

  The room was wood paneled. He had watched a Harry Potter film on TV once and the room reminded him of Hogwarts. There was an old oak desk with a green leather top, and artwork lined the walls. He strolled around and admired the work. After studying the third work (a charcoal drawing, very expressive), he realized that all the subjects were naked. Both men and women. They stretched, stood and sat for their portraits. With an amateur eye, he classed some as very good studies with clear brushstrokes, a nice use of color and the faces and expressions were well done. Others, he didn’t really understand. They seemed to be little more than a
collection of angry brushstrokes, scribbles and splashes of paint. Each was dated and the dates ran in succession. It appeared that a piece of artwork was added to the room each year.

  He was working around the room the wrong way so he looked at the recent work first before he found his way to the seventies, then sixties. There was a painting at the end of the row that drew his eye. Unlike the other works this lady was smiling, as if she knew the artist and was posing especially for them rather than as a job. Her breasts jutted proudly outward. Her lips were parted. She looked more than a little like Miriam. He smiled at the resemblance.

  Then his smile faded.

  He studied the portrait again, stepping closer to the frame. He took in the aquamarine of the sitter’s eyes, then the birthmark on her left hip. She had always hated that birthmark. It resembled a hot-air balloon with a large circular shape and then a small square beneath it.

  Arthur found himself staring at a naked painting of his wife.

  “Right.” Adam burst back into the room. He knitted his hand into his hair. “She won’t bloody listen to me. Hung up, in fact. I have to call her back. She doesn’t usually respond until I’ve rung her at least fifteen times. She judges how much I want her back by the number of calls I make. It’s a game but if I want to keep her, then I have to play it. God, I could do without this. Anyway, the students are getting restless. Follow me.”

  Arthur followed him to the original room. The students were still standing around, chatting and looking bored.

  The portrait of his wife was stuck in his head. When had she posed? Who had she posed for? Why was she naked? He felt dazed, unable to focus on where he was and what he was here to ask. He put one foot in front of the other but felt as if he was floating rather than walking. He had expected a conversation, a mere yes or no that someone could tell him about the paint palette charm, but now he had discovered this. Just who had Miriam Pepper been?

  “Go over there behind the screen. Then we can get started.” Adam clapped his hands.

  Arthur stared blankly, his mind not functioning. Another waiting room? Where? Oh, there. Yes, okay, then. His feet moved again. He was aware only of himself and his discomfort.

  It wasn’t a room as such, more of a wooden screen, but there was a plastic chair and a glass of water on a low table. There was a toweling robe. He sat and waited for Adam. He thought of how at the beach with the kids Miriam clutched a towel around her in a series of Houdini-like moves as she removed her wet swimsuit and wriggled back into her underwear. On their wedding night she had insisted on the lights off. Yet, here she was naked. An image of her bare body had hung on the wall in a room for over forty years for all to admire it. He didn’t know how to feel. Should he march back in there and pull it from the wall? Or would Miriam have been proud of the painting—that it wasn’t about her at all but about the person who had painted it.

  Who had painted it?

  He felt the now-familiar emotions of jealousy and confusion invading his body again. Between each charm he raised his hopes, that the next thing he found out about his wife would be normal; it would be understandable. It would tell him that everything had been fine between them. And each time he felt even more bewildered. Everything had all once been so simple but his curiosity had spoiled that.

  The chattering slowed down. A few minutes passed. Adam poked his head around the screen. “Are you ready yet?”

  “Yes,” Arthur said. “Ready when you are.” He took a sip of the water. He reached out and felt the robe. It was white toweling and had gone stiff from being washed too many times. A few more minutes passed.

  A girl appeared this time. She had black hair with a fuchsia fringe and wore a tartan kilt and biker boots. “Adam’s had to make another call,” she said. “We were wondering if you’re ready?”

  “Yes. I told Adam. I’ve been waiting here for him.”

  “But you’re still dressed.”

  It was the strangest and most obvious observation. “Well, yes.”

  “Er, did Adam not tell you? We’re studying the human form.”

  Arthur frowned, not sure of the connection.

  “Our drawings will influence a piece of body jewelry.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “We only have an hour and a quarter left, so if you’re ready...the fire is on and it’s pretty warm out here.”

  It took a few moments for what she was suggesting to sink in. He gulped. “You th-think I’m a life model...?” he stuttered.

  “Well, yes.”

  “Well, no.” He shook his head furiously. “Definitely not. I came to see Ms. Yardley. She’s off sick so the receptionist told me to see Adam. I wanted to speak to him about a piece of jewelry. He asked me to wait in the room with the paintings and now in here...”

  “So, you’re not our model?”

  “Most certainly not.”

  “So, he’s not turned up?” The girl opened her eyes wide. Arthur saw they had become glassy, as if she was about to cry. “But you have to do this. If we don’t do this work, then we fail our final.”

  “I’m sorry but I really don’t think I can help you...”

  The girl shook her head but then she reconsidered and straightened her back. “I did it once. I’d do it now but I have to be in the class. All you have to do is sit there. It’s simple. You sit and we draw.”

  “But you want someone who is naked?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I am not a model.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What about Adam? Can’t he...?”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “We’ll be lucky to see him again. He disappears for entire lessons sometimes. His wife is a real cow. I’m Edith, by the way.” She held out her hand. When he took it, she said, “Please help us.”

  “I’m Arthur. Arthur Pepper.”

  The painting of Miriam flashed in his mind again. How had she felt when she sat for her portrait? Did she feel free? Had she done it to help someone out? For money? He might have been worried that she had been coerced into something that she didn’t want to do, but there was her smile. It looked as if she had enjoyed it. Putting himself in this same position could bring him closer to understanding how she felt.

  Miriam had a beautiful and young body. His was sagging, as if his skin was sliding away from his bones and muscle, no longer wanting to cling on.

  But indeed what did he have to hide away from? There would probably be no more lovers in his life, no more trips to the beach to paddle. The next glimpses of his naked body might be by nurses in the hospital as they gave him a bed bath on his deathbed. What exactly did he have to be scared of?

  The memory came flooding back to him, sweet and painful. He and Miriam had taken a picnic to a National Trust property. The kids were in school and he’d had an unexpected day off work when an appointment canceled. Miriam made sandwiches and they walked into the woods and found a field overgrown with poppies. When they sat down the grasses were taller than their heads. They ate their lunch and Miriam had complained that her dress was sticking to her in the heat.

  “Take it off, then,” he had quipped as he delved into her basket for an orange. He dug in his thumbnails and peeled it. When he looked up she sat there naked except for her white cotton knickers.

  “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.