Aunt Daisy's Letter

by S J Crabb

  “But where, it’s January for goodness’ sake? You’ll freeze your knickers off.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Suddenly, her eyes light up and she leans forward. “You’re going glamping, aren’t you? I’m guessing you’ve been on secret escapes again and found some five-star adventure experience with all mod cons and none of the suffering. I’ve got to hand it to you, Lily, you’re good at this.”

  Feeling slightly annoyed with myself that I hadn’t thought of this, I say matter-of-factly, “Actually no. To be honest, I feel I need to enter into the spirit of the occasion and do things properly. No, I have booked myself on the outward-bound camping experience in the New Forest at the weekend. It says not for the faint hearted and I take that to mean because it’s in January. However…”

  Heidi’s eyes light up. “Go on, I’m dying here.” She puts her hand to her mouth and looks horrified. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s fine, I know it’s just a figure of speech.”

  I smile, but inside my heart is hollow. Yes, the reason I am doing this is still at the forefront of my mind, which is giving me the courage to go through with it.

  “Aunt Daisy would be proud of me because this is well and truly out of my comfort zone and, as they say, no pain, no gain. No, I have drawn up a list of things I need to purchase to make things, shall we say, a little more comfortable.”

  Heidi looks so excited it makes me laugh. “Go on, tell me, this is so interesting.”

  Feeling rather pleased with my expert planning, I withdraw my camping preparation list from my pink folder. “Right, obviously I need a tent, so I managed to purchase a Cath Kidston one in the sale. It was 70% off you know, so not only a designer’s dream but an affordable one at that.”

  Heidi looks surprised. “I didn’t know they did tents.”

  “They do everything a girl needs, Heidi. It’s a particularly pretty one with flowers on and will brighten up any forest we find ourselves in. Now, obviously I need to transport the tent, so I managed to purchase one of those hard cases on wheels to pack it in, along with a polka dot sleeping bag and matching towel. Again, January is the perfect time of year to grab those sale bargains. You know, I even tweeted about it just this morning and had several likes and a few comments already thanking me.”

  Heidi is beginning to look a little worried and I laugh happily. “You know, it will be fine. I’ve even ordered some of those joss sticks to burn to keep the creatures away because quite frankly, I’m sharing with no one, not even an errant spider looking for shelter. No, I’ll be tucked up inside my cosy tent with my happy socks firmly on my feet and a relaxing face mask to de-toxify my skin, while being at one with nature.”

  Heidi shakes her head and looks concerned. “I’m not sure you’ve really thought this through, Lily. I don’t think they allow suitcases on wheels in the forest. What if you have to go off-road, or get it stuck in the mud?”

  Sometimes I wonder about my friend’s intelligence and roll my eyes. “Then I’ll use the handle and carry it - obviously. You know, I think it’s ingenious because I won’t be bogged down with my home on my back like some kind of snail. No, I have planned ahead and come up with the perfect solution. The best thing is, I’ve also managed to order a few of those battery charger packs, so I’m covered for the duration with spare charge for my phone. You see, Heidi, forward planning is the key because now I’ll be able to stay in touch with civilisation, while ticking a few of the boxes off my list. You know, as Sable once told me, an organised woman is a powerful one. Well, that’s me because I’ll have more power in my wheelie case than I do when I’m at home. Ingenious.”

  Shaking her head, Heidi changes the subject. “What else have you arranged?”

  Feeling rather smug at how quickly I’ve risen to the challenge, I jab my finger at item number 22.

  “Tomorrow morning I’m off to the Art institute to paint a naked man.”

  Heidi’s face is a picture and I giggle. “I know, mad isn’t it? Well, I called them on my lunch break and they were so helpful. They told me they had an opening at 10.30 tomorrow and when I asked how much it was, they told me £40. Well, it’s a little steep, but at least I’ll get this one done. Oh, I almost forgot, I love that colour on you, it brings out the um… greyish green of your eyes.”

  Heidi looks even more confused until I point to item number 19. “Aunt Daisy wanted to compliment herself every day, but I have changed it to compliment another. That way I’m helping spread the love and making someone’s day at the same time. You know, Heidi, I really think I’ve got this. You see, Aunt Daisy was an impressive woman and some of it must have rubbed off on me.”

  Grabbing the list, Heidi reads it and by the end of it she looks quite disturbed. “Are you really going to do all these things?”

  “Yes.”

  “What every one?”

  “Every last one.”

  Shaking her head, she looks impressed. “Well, I can’t wait to hear all about it. I’ve got to hand it to you, babe, you’ve surprised me, I never knew you had it in you.”

  Feeling rather smug, I carefully place my notebook and various lists inside the pink folder. “Watch and learn dearest friend and prepare to be amazed.”

  ♥8

  The Art institute is an impressive place. As I walk into the entrance hall, I am amazed at the modern simplicity of a building that’s both minimalist and yet super cool at the same time. Art is everywhere and I feel as if I’ve had more culture in two seconds than I did the whole of last year. Why haven’t I been here before? It’s not far and quite frankly, I feel as if I’ve missed out on so much already and now it’s time to play catch up.

  There are a few people milling around and I sneak a look at them as they wander around looking intellectual and arty. I belong here. Yes, I’m a creative person too and I quickly snap a selfie of me by the Art Institute sign and load it to Instagram. Maybe I’ll do a feature on the design element when I’m editor. Yes, Designer homes - on a budget, will reap the rewards of soaking up the atmosphere of a free day at this centre of learning and culture. Thinking of the money I need to pay; I imagine it’s how they fund their business. Yes, free to the public but for people like me who have the yearning for learning, we contribute to keeping the doors open and enable others less fortunate than ourselves to learn for free.

  Feeling quite virtuous, I head over to the little ticket window and smile graciously. “Good morning, I’ve come for the life Art class, I believe you’re expecting me.”

  The elderly woman sitting behind the counter looks at me with interest. “Oh, what’s your name?”

  “Lily Adams.”

  She consults some kind of list and smiles. “Yes, that’s right, you need to head for the Monet room on the third floor. Take the lift and turn right when you get there. The Monet room is three doors down on the right. Somebody will meet you there.”

  “Thank you. Um… do I pay now?”

  Looking surprised, the woman shakes her head. “Oh no dear, there’s no charge.”

  Feeling surprised, I move away and as I walk to the lift, I try to remember my conversation with the woman I spoke to yesterday. I’m sure she said it would cost £40. Maybe she got it wrong, then again, it could have been the lady on the door. Now I’m in a dilemma. Do I mention it and hand over the money like the honest person I am, or do I keep quiet and save myself from spending money I don’t really have?”

  Feeling quite flustered, I head to the Monet room and hope the answers lie within its Art-lined walls.

  It doesn’t take me long to find it and as I head inside, I see a couple of people sitting there reading magazines or looking at their phone. The man looks up and smiles and I nod. “Good morning.”

  He returns the greeting and shifts along a little on the bench he’s sitting on and says with interest, “Are you here for the life class?”

  “Yes, are you?” He nods as I
take my seat next to him and the girl looks up and smiles. “Same. Have you ever done this before?”

  “No, have you?” The girl nods. “Several times, it’s good fun.”

  The man laughs. “I’m not sure fun’s the right word in my case but it’s something to do I suppose.”

  He holds out his hand. “I’m Richie.”

  “Lily.”

  We shake hands and the girl grins. “I’m Betty. It’s nice to meet you, Lily, I hope you enjoy it.”

  “I’m sure I will, it’s a little different for me but something I’m keen to experience.”

  The door opens and a rather bohemian looking woman enters and smiles as she sees us waiting. I take in her flowing skirt and tight V-neck sweater that provides the blank canvas for the multitude of beads slung around her neck. Her hair is the mad frizzy variety and her blue eyes twinkle behind the thickest glasses I have ever seen. “Good, you’re all on time. That makes things a lot easier. Ok, my name’s Carlotta and I should have Richie, Lily and Betty here, is that correct?”

  We nod and she grins. “Good, well, the changing room is through there. You will find everything you need inside and when you’re ready you can bring your things and I’ll stow them in the lockers until you need them later.”

  She smiles and says lightly, “Any questions?”

  Thinking of the money I owe, I decide to keep quiet for a while. Just until I suss this out, at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

  I follow Betty into the room and notice a set of cubicles along one side, with curtains across. Gosh, this is interesting. We must be changing into an artist’s smock or something. Maybe there’ll be a beret? I certainly hope so. Already picturing the exciting Instagram post I’ll upload later, I head into the changing room. However, all I can see is a long white robe hanging on a peg and I say loudly, “Excuse me, Betty, I think I’m missing the uniform.”

  She pokes her head out from behind her curtain and says with confusion, “What uniform?”

  “Um, the overalls or something along those lines.”

  Shaking her head, she says, “No, it’s just the robe, that’s all you need.”

  She pops her head back inside and I say loudly, “Just the robe, do we wear it over our clothes then?”

  Richie shouts, “No, of course not. Just strip naked and the robe will cover your modesty.”

  Now I’m ultra-confused and hesitate as a sinking feeling washes over me. My voice shakes as I say rather hysterically, “Um... just another question, what exactly do we do when we get in there?”

  Betty emerges from her changing room dressed in her robe carrying her clothes. “We just sit where they tell us and pose for the artists. It’s all quite easy really, except when you need to move, or scratch your nose, they get angry if you move an inch.”

  “So, we’re not painting then?”

  Richie emerges from his cubicle and laughs out loud. “I think you’ve come to the wrong place, honey; we’re the models and they are painting us, not the other way around.”

  My face must be a picture of its own because Betty and Richie share a look and then Betty says gently, “You didn’t know?”

  I shake my head and she says kindly, “You know, maybe you should still give it a go. It’s not that difficult and we get paid well for it. I think it’s £40 today because we’re in the advanced class.”

  “Advanced class?” My voice sounds weak and nothing like the powerful woman I aspire to be as Richie nods. “Yes, at least their pictures will look like us. Last time I did a class with the beginners, I didn’t recognise myself. They spent the whole time giggling and quite honestly it was getting irritating.”

  Betty nods. “Yes, there will be none of that today. Pure professionals who are only interested in the art. You should give it a go, Lily, it will empower you.”

  Maybe it’s because she used words that strike a chord with me, or maybe it’s because I’ve suddenly lost the power of rational thought but I say slowly, “Ok, I don’t suppose there’s any harm in it, after all, it’s only two hours.”

  They nod with appreciation and Betty says, “Good for you, Lily. Go and get ready now before you change your mind. We’ll look after you, won’t we Richie?”

  He nods and because it seems so normal to them it makes me relax. Yes, I can do this. I will be like Rose in the film Titanic and I’ll just imagine Leonardo Di-Caprio is painting me. I will be a desirable woman with the world at her feet immortalised in Art and may even find myself hanging in this actual public gallery while the viewing public hail me as the muse that created the artist’s finest works. Years from now, people will make up stories about me and I will sell for millions at auction as I knock the Mona Lisa off her perch.

  Yes, she who dares wins after all and this is my calling.

  Exactly twenty minutes later, I change my mind. What was I thinking?

  As we head inside the room, I see the curious looks of a room full of people of all ages and gender, standing behind their easels looking interested. In the centre of the room are three chairs placed in a circle with their backs to each other. Carlotta says quickly, “Right, models. Grab a chair each and arrange yourself artistically. I’ll take the robes and give them back to you at the end.”

  I almost can’t look as Richie drops his first and strides to the furthest seat. Betty follows close behind and I find myself clutching my robe to me in pure and utter terror as I contemplate what I’ve agreed to. I can’t do this, be naked in public. What if they laugh? What if they notice my cellulite and the fact my nail varnish is chipped on my toenails and my legs are winter hairy. I can’t believe this is happening.

  Carlotta looks a little confused and holds out her hand. “The robe dear, the artists are waiting.”

  I could back out, I should back out, I must back out but something is stopping me. It’s the thought of how proud Aunt Daisy would be of me. This is surely what she meant when she wrote that list. Facing your fears and ditching your inhibitions. Surely if she could have sex with a stranger on the beach, I can do this. Thank goodness that one was ticked off, I’m not sure I’d be up for that but this…can I do it, really?

  I sense the irritation mounting in the room and see Richie and Betty smiling with encouragement as they watch me with interest. They don’t seem to care. They are sitting there seemingly unconcerned that their private parts are on full display. This is a professional environment and the only person with issues in here is me, so with a superhuman effort on my part, I let the robe drop to the floor and charge towards the seat and try to arrange myself in a pose that disguises my face and erogenous zones.

  However, Carlotta is having none of it and proceeds to position the three of us for maximum effect. A head pulled back at an angle, arms arranged above our heads or dangling to the side. Legs open, or knees slightly bent and by the end of it, I feel as red faced as the magenta currently being mixed with some other colour on the artists palettes.

  Then begins the most mortifying experience of my life, as I allow total strangers to stare at my body with a critical eye and point out with the stroke of their brushes, or a sweep of their charcoal, absolutely every imperfection I have ever had and try not to look at when I stare at myself in the mirror. This is brutality at its worst and I make a vow to never and I repeat, never, agree to anything without checking the facts first.

  By the end of the session, I’m a nervous wreck. My muscles ache, which surprises me because I forgot I had any. My back is stiff and my head feels heavy. There’s a draft caressing my body that makes my extremities stand to attention and there are goose bumps all over my body that are definitely not an attractive feature. My face is frozen with a mask of indifference, disguising the extreme embarrassment this has brought me and when the call comes to stop painting, I breathe a sigh of relief and almost pounce on Carlotta as she hands me my robe and says happily, “Well done, dear. Now, I’ll make you all a nice cup of tea while you take a look at the artist’s work.”

  As she heads
off, I follow Richie and Betty around the room as we look over the shoulders of the very people who have painted us for the last couple of hours and if I thought I was about to see a masterpiece then I was definitely mistaken. All we see are the basic outlines of our bodies with none of the detail. Betty must sense my surprise because she whispers, “They fill in the rest later from memory. They just need us for the outline and perspective. Some of them may have taken a photograph and will use that to finish it off, others like to freestyle.”

  I look at her in alarm and hiss, “What, they have pictures of us, on their phone?”

  The hysteria is rising and Betty smiles, “It’s ok, they delete them when they finish. They must sign a confidentially agreement and aren’t allowed to store the photos past the class.”

  “But how do you know, they may be perverts who do this for kicks? We might be added to some kind of weirdo wall in their apartment and when the police raid it, be brought in for questioning.”

  Betty laughs and shakes her head. “Relax, they’re not interested in us, just Art.”

  Looking around, I try to suss out the artists, as she calls them. As I scrutinise them, I look for any signs they have an ulterior motive for being here but quite frankly, I doubt it. Most are older women who look like my mum in an artier way. The few men that are here look normal enough, not like I imagine a pervert or a stalker to look like in the slightest.

  Betty whispers, “I’ve been doing this for months. It helps pay the bills on my student loan. Money for nothing, what’s not to like?”

  As we move through the paintings, I relax a little. Yes, I’m in a cultured environment at the Art Institute. These people would have been vetted and they don’t just allow any random person in here. I must loosen up a little and relax. This is the new me after all. She who dares wins and I am winning at life. Aunt Daisy would be proud of me and it’s that thought that settles my nerves and pushes the doubts away. At least I can tick one of my numbers off. I’m on my way.