by Charles Webb
Colin straightened up. They looked at each other a moment longer, then Colin glanced at a row of windows running along the top of the wall behind them. ‘I was looking at the lighting,’ he said. ‘It’s indirect, but I think we can work with it.’ He set down his case several yards back from the pool.
‘What do you want me to do.’
‘Stand right there in the pool.’ Colin removed his pad and a few pencils from the wooden case. ‘Unless you’ll be cold.’
‘I never get cold.’
Colin looked down at his subject, waist deep in the water. ‘Can you come this way a little?’ He pointed at a broad black line on the bottom of the pool. ‘Why don’t you stand there.’ Rob walked over and placed his feet on it. ‘Perfect.’
‘What about my goggles.’
‘Leave them on. I like them.’
Rob reached up to adjust the small pair of goggles strapped around the top of his head. ‘They’re my lucky goggles,’ he said, lowering his arm. ‘Coach wore them in Sydney during the Olympics.’
‘Oh?’ Colin said, taking a step back. ‘Your coach was in the Olympics?’
‘Not in them exactly. He went over to Sydney as a trainer. While he was there he bought a bunch of goggles and put each of them on and off in the Olympic Village so he could hand them out as souvenirs over the years to his top swimmers. It’s amazing the incentive it gives you to own something that was actually worn over there.’
Colin put all but one of his pencils in his shirt pocket and turned back the cover of his sketch pad.
Rob raised his hand. ‘Sir?’
‘You don’t need to call me sir, Rob.’
‘Could I say something before you start?’
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t know if Mandy mentioned I’m pretty heavily into the Lord.’
Colin nodded. ‘She did.’
‘Is there some way you could have that come across in the drawing?’
‘Being heavily into the Lord.’
‘I mean I don’t know how you would,’ Rob said, slapping the top of the water. ‘You’re the artist. But I just wish you could.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Maybe convey sort of a feeling of inner happiness, something like that.’
‘An inner light,’ Colin said.
‘That’s it.’
‘I’ll try, Rob, that’s all I can do.’ Colin raised the pad in front of himself.
‘The two things I want to come through in the picture,’ Rob said, holding up two fingers, ‘are one, that I’m a Christian, and two, that I’m a swimmer.’
‘I understand that, Rob. Don’t you want to put a towel around your shoulders while we do this, to keep warm?’
‘I’m blessed with fabulous circulation.’
Colin made several circling motions over the pad with his pencil, then sketched the outline of Rob’s head.
‘Not to bring up a painful subject or anything, but I heard your girlfriend over in England just gave you the heave-ho.’
As Colin began drawing his ears, Rob cupped his hand and hit the surface of the pool, sending some water up over the opposite side.
‘Rob.’
‘You want me to hold still.’
‘You can splash,’ Colin said, ‘as long as you keep turned this way.’ He began drawing Rob’s nose.
‘What happened,’ Rob said. ‘She got sucked into a cult or something?’
‘What’s that.’
‘Your girlfriend. Mandy said she might have gotten sucked into a cult.’
‘It crossed my mind at first. But in retrospect I can see I was just very distraught when I thought of that.’
Rob slapped some more water toward the side of the pool. ‘Satan’s amazing,’ he said, ‘isn’t he?’
Moving forward slightly, Colin squinted at Rob’s mouth.
‘One minute you’re just going along, leading an ordinary life. Everything’s normal. Then whoosh! He creeps up behind you and sucks you into a cult.’
‘As I said, Rob, I don’t think that’s what happened any more.’
‘What do you think did happen.’
He sketched in Rob’s chin. ‘In a word,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid she just got tired of me.’ He removed the pencils from the pocket of his shirt, selected a new one and returned the others. ‘It was a very long-term relationship. I’m afraid it finally just collapsed of its own weight.’
‘It wasn’t faith-based, doesn’t sound like,’ Rob said.
‘Wasn’t what?’
‘The relationship. It doesn’t sound like it was based on the strength of Christ.’
‘It wasn’t.’
The rest of the portrait was done in silence, with Rob periodically flicking his fingers against the water, but at all times keeping his face forward.
Finally Colin held the drawing out at arm’s length to study.
‘Finished?’ Rob said.
Colin nodded.
‘Mind if I have a look?’
‘I want you to.’ He quickly added another line to the side of his head as Rob climbed out of the pool and walked up beside him. Colin held it in front of them so they both could see it. ‘What do you think.’
Rob nodded. ‘It looks like me.’
‘I think so.’
‘The eyes,’ Rob said, pointing, ‘that’s definitely how my eyes look.’
‘Careful.’
Rob pulled back his dripping arm.
‘I’m glad you feel I captured your eyes,’ Colin said. ‘When the eyes are right, usually everything else falls into place.’
‘The only thing I’m wondering,’ Rob said, ‘is the thing we were talking about before.’
‘What’s that.’
‘The two things,’ Rob said. ‘The swimmer, and the Christian. Okay, the goggles. That shows the swimmer.’
‘Definitely,’ Colin said.
‘But what about the other.’
‘Your inner happiness,’ Colin said.
Rob nodded, keeping his eyes on the drawing.
‘Well I think that comes through in the smile,’ Colin said. ‘To me, the smile reflects the inner light.’
They studied it together.
‘In a way I guess it does,’ Rob said.
‘I think so.’
Rob reached up to wiggle a finger in his ear. ‘But I don’t know if a person would exactly get a Christian feeling from it.’
‘To be honest,’ Colin said, ‘that’s a difficult quality to convey in pencil. Communicating spirituality in graphite is never easy.’
‘And don’t take this the wrong way either,’ Rob said, ‘but you may have made me smiling too much.’
‘Oh?’
‘For a Christian it should be more like a glowing feeling.’
‘I think you glow.’
‘Look, here’s an idea,’ Rob said, ‘what about drawing a little crucifix on a chain around my neck. I have one at home. It’s just not on at the moment.’
Colin looked at his drawing in silence a few moments. ‘I try to exclude material objects as much as possible,’ he said finally. ‘They distract us from the subject’s personality.’ He gestured with his pencil at the page. ‘The goggles work, but from the point-of-view of balance I don’t think the composition will support another physical object.’
‘It’s a tiny crucifix.’
‘That may be, but it’s going to pull attention away from the face.’
‘But it would show my commitment.’
‘I realise that, but it would also clutter the composition.’
A large drop of water fell on the page as Rob stepped forward and pointed at the drawing of his neck. ‘Just put it there. Actually, that’s going to make the composition even better.’
‘How so, Rob.’
‘Because then you’ll have the goggles and the cross. That shows my whole personality. So the composition will be perfect.’
Colin watched the spot on one of Rob’s cheeks grow larger and darken as it was absorbe
d by the paper.
‘Sorry about that.’
‘It’ll dry,’ Colin said, closing the pad. ‘Listen, why don’t you give the crucifix to your sister. Have her bring it to the motel and I’ll see if there’s a way to work it in.’
‘Bless you, sir.’
7
When the small blue car turned into the motel entrance and stopped in front of the office, Joanie was going through her credit card receipts from the day before, adding them up again to confirm that no errors had been made. She glanced through the window at the woman stepping out of the car, but then turned her eyes down to the calculator again till the woman had come into the office and was standing on the other side of the counter. Then she looked up and smiled. ‘I’m afraid we’re all booked for tonight.’
‘I’m looking for one of your guests,’ the woman said in an English accent. ‘I don’t need a room.’
It was quiet as the two of them smiled at each other across the counter.
‘What guest would that be.’
‘A Colin Ware.’
‘Ware,’ Joanie repeated, after another couple of seconds had passed.
The woman nodded, then again for a few moments it was quiet.
‘Well let me just look in our register. I’ll see if we have anyone here by that name.’
‘Thank you.’
Joanie turned the large book around in front of her. She flipped back a few pages, moving her head down slightly to read some of the entries, running her finger along underneath them as she read.
‘Colin, you said.’
‘I believe he arrived last Monday.’
‘Of last week.’
‘Yes. Not yesterday.’
Joanie continued looking through the book, studying the pages, turning them backward, then forward again.
‘There can’t be that many new guests just for that one day, can there,’ the woman said.
‘No,’ Joanie said, placing her finger on one of the entries, ‘and here he is.’
‘You found him.’
‘I did.’
‘And is he still here.’
‘Is he still here.’ Joanie began turning the pages forward again. ‘Is Mr Ware still here. Let’s just see if Mr Ware is still here at the inn.’ Looking at the most recent page, Joanie pursed her lips a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes. He still is.’
‘Good. And may I ask which room he’s in.’
‘Which room,’ Joanie said. ‘Which room, which room.’ The blond woman across from her waited as Joanie again flipped back through the pages of the register. ‘I believe my husband was the one who checked Mr Ware in and I may have to touch base with him to be sure exactly where he put him.’
‘Your husband didn’t make a note of which room he put him in?’
‘Ordinarily he would have,’ Joanie said, ‘but this time of year, because of all the tourists, sometimes we’ll switch people around—someone might prefer a corner room, someone else might not want to be next to the ice machine—’
‘What can all that have to do with your husband checking him in.’
‘Twelve,’ Joanie said, nodding. ‘Yes. Mr Ware is in twelve. I do know who you mean now that I think of it. Is he a British gentleman?’
‘Yes.’
Joanie nodded. ‘I believe I do know who that is.’
‘And he’s in room twelve.’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you.’ She started toward the door.
‘But he’s not there now.’
The woman stopped.
‘Now that I remember who he is,’ Joanie said, ‘I did notice him going out a little while ago. But let’s be sure.’ She picked up the receiver of the phone and held it out to her. ‘You take this, just in case I’m mistaken.’ The woman put the receiver to her ear as Joanie pressed two buttons on the keypad. ‘But I’ve been right here and I’m sure I haven’t seen him come back.’
‘He’s not there,’ the woman said, handing back the receiver.
‘If you give me your name,’ Joanie said, hanging it up, ‘I’ll put on his message light so he’ll know the minute he gets back you were here.’
‘I’d rather wait,’ the woman said.
‘Wait?’
‘For him to come back,’ she said. ‘Do you have to be a guest to sit out by the pool?’
‘Not if you’re visiting a registered guest.’
‘So I may wait.’
‘Oh yes.’
She left the office, opened the door of her car to remove a bag from the front seat, then walked to the low fence enclosing thepool and went through its gate, past several children who were swimming, and to a chair in the corner.
Joanie watched her through the window till she was seated, then picked up the phone again and pressed one of the buttons. ‘Come here.’ She hung up and looked back out at the woman, who was reaching into her bag to remove a pack of cigarettes.
A door at the rear of the office opened and Fisher looked in. ‘What’s up.’
‘Come over here.’
Fisher walked across the office and stopped next to his wife, who was pointing out the window. ‘The woman by the pool,’ she said. ‘In the chair by the deep end.’
He looked out at her. She’d put the cigarette between her lips and was holding a lighter to the end of it.
‘What does she think she’s doing.’
‘Not the cigarette, Fisher.’
A grey-haired guest got up from his towel and stepped over to her. Joanie and her husband watched as he spoke to the woman, indicating a sign on the fence, then as the woman took a deep drag from the cigarette before grinding it out on the cement in front of her chair.
‘That’s Vera,’ Joanie said.
‘Vera.’
‘Colin’s Vera.’
‘Who?’
‘Wake up, Fisher.’ She snapped her fingers in his face. ‘The one he came over here to escape.’
‘Oh good Lord.’
They watched as the woman folded her hands on the bag in her lap.
‘Are you sure?’
‘She was just in the office.’
‘And told you that’s who she is?’
The woman tipped her face up to the sun and closed her eyes.
‘She has an English accent. She’s here asking for Colin. Come on, Fisher, who else could it be.’
‘Maybe it was an Australian accent. Those are tricky to tell apart.’
‘How likely is it that an Australian woman is going to show up asking for Colin Ware.’
‘Canadian?’
‘Fisher, I’m not going to stand here while you go through the British Empire. It is her.’
They watched as Vera reached up to brush a fly away from her face.
‘Go out and talk to her,’ Joanie said.
He remained where he was.
‘Fisher?’
‘Joanie, I have nothing to say to the woman.’
‘Just try to draw her out. We’ve got to find out what she’s up to.’
Again the two of them stood silently side-by-side watching Vera sun herself.
‘This really isn’t our business, Joanie.’
‘Of course it is.’
‘How.’
‘Because Mandy Martin’s been living here with Colin for the past week and the woman who wrecked his life, who drove him five thousand miles over here, is sitting out by our swimming pool. Don’t tell me all hell isn’t going to break loose when they come tootling back in here.’
‘There’s an outside chance of that.’
‘Outside,’ she said, turning toward him. ‘Fisher, when yellow police tape is wrapped around the motel, and we’re splashed all over the front page of the Banner, and no one will come within a hundred miles of this place, maybe then you’ll realise it might have been a good idea to do something.’
Still Fisher stood where he was, looking out at Vera.
‘Fisher! Why aren’t you going out there!’
‘The woman belongs to a cult, Joanie.’
/> ‘What?’
‘The innocent little conversation you were just having with her?’ He shook his head. ‘I won’t even try to guess how many subliminal messages came in under your radar.’
‘Oh my God in heaven.’ Joanie came out from behind the counter. ‘Cover the desk.’
He stepped in front of her. ‘Joanie,’ he said. ‘I’ve read accounts about this stuff by professional deprogrammers that would chill your blood. You are a babe in the woods.’ He pushed open the door. ‘Stay here.’
Fisher walked to the pool, nodding to a sunbathing guest as he entered the fenced enclosure. Then he picked up an empty aluminium chair and carried it over to set down beside Vera.
She lowered her head and opened her eyes as he seated himself.
‘I’m the co-manager,’ he said. ‘That was my wife Joanie you spoke to in the office.’
‘Is Colin back?’ Vera twisted her head around to look over at the rooms.
Fisher leaned forward. He picked up the cigarette butt from beside the leg of her chair and set in the palm of his hand.
‘There was no ashtray.’
‘No problem,’ Fisher said.
A young boy jumped off the side of the pool, tucked in his knees and hit the water, splashing a woman lying on her towel.
‘No more of that,’ Fisher said when he came up.
He swam away.
‘Mr Ware isn’t back yet, is he,’ Vera said.
‘No.’ Fisher sat looking down at the crushed cigarette in his cupped hand.
‘Do you mind if I wait here for him?’
‘Not at all.’
Vera watched him a few more moments, then tilted her face up to the sun again.
‘But as long as we’re speaking of Mr Ware—Colin—he did my portrait last week.’
She looked back down at him. ‘Oh?’
‘Very nice,’ Fisher said, nodding. ‘I thought it came out very well.’
‘He’s an excellent artist.’
‘Yes. Excellent.’ Fisher cleared his throat and it was quiet for a moment or two except for the noise of the other guests. ‘Vera’s your name then?’ he said at last.
‘It would seem he mentioned me,’ she said after a moment.
‘We chatted as he worked.’
‘I hate to imagine what he said.’
‘We just talked casually.’ Fisher reached down to wave his fingers back and forth across the spot on the cement and disperse the black specks from where Vera had ground out the cigarette. ‘Are you alone then?’ he said when he was finished.
