Aunt Bessie's Holiday (16 page)

“Thank you again,” she called back to the
man who was still standing in the doorway of the ranger station.

“Any time,” he shouted back.

“Walk faster,” Doona hissed.
 
“Or he’ll be trying to force his weird
tea on us again.”

Bessie laughed.
 
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“I’m sure it’s awful,” Doona countered.
 
“Anyway, I don’t want to find out.”

“So what did you think of the walk?” Bessie
asked as they slowly made their way home.
 
“You were very quiet the whole time,” she added.

“I have a lot on my mind,” Doona
replied.
 
“Besides, Brett was so
enthusiastic about everything, I didn’t feel like there was anything I could
add.”

“He certainly loves what he does,” Bessie
agreed.
 
“And his tea seems to be
doing him a lot of good.”

“If I were twenty years younger, I’d have
been quite tempted,” Doona told her.
 
“He’d be perfect for young Mai, maybe.”

“She doesn’t seem like the grass and weed
tea type,” Bessie said thoughtfully.
 
“I think she’d be more interested in champagne.”

“You could be right,” Doona said with a
shrug.
 
“As I’ve made such a huge
mess of my own love life, I don’t think I want to comment on other people’s.”

They’d reached a small sitting area that
overlooked the smaller of the two lakes.
 
“Let’s sit for a minute,” Bessie suggested.
 
“The view is wonderful.”

The picnic tables and benches were less
spectacular than the view, but Bessie was happy to sit down for a short time,
regardless.

“We’ve our pencil sketching class this
afternoon,” Doona reminded Bessie.
 
“And we need to have some lunch before that.
 
What sounds good?”

“I’m already hungry and it’s only half ten,”
Bessie said.
 
“Maybe we could get
Chinese or Indian?”

“Indian sounds better to me,” Doona
replied.
 
“Let’s get take-away and
eat in our cabin, though.
 
I’m not
sure I’m up to a public place right now.”

“That sounds good.
 
We can go back and decide what we
want.
 
I can walk over and collect
it if you just want to stay at home.”

“I think I can manage collecting some food,”
Doona told her.
 
“I don’t want anyone
to think I’m hiding, anyway.”

After several minutes, Bessie began to shift
back and forth on the uncomfortable wooden seat.
 

“Time to head for home?” Doona asked.

“This bench is pretty hard,” Bessie said,
apologetically.

“That’s fine.
 
I quite fancy sitting on our patio and
reading for a while,” Doona told her.
 
“The chairs there are much more comfortable than these and the view is
just as nice.”

In their cabin, both women took books from
their book club pile and settled into seats on their patio.
 
Bessie’s tummy was rumbling by half
eleven.

“Time to order some food,” she said to
Doona.

“Perfect,” Doona answered.
 

When they gave their location to the man
taking their order, he insisted that someone from the restaurant would deliver
their lunch.
 

“So, our VIP treatment continues, in spite
of Charles’s death,” Bessie remarked when Doona told her.

“So it seems,” Doona replied.
 
“Again, I just hope we don’t get billed
for it all.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to
it,” Bessie said.
 
“For now, we
should enjoy being pampered.”

The food, when it arrived, was hot and
delicious.
 
Bessie ate far more than
she’d intended, but her light breakfast had been many hours earlier.

“That was much better than yesterday’s
lunch,” Doona remarked as she and Bessie cleared away the dishes.

“It certainly was,” Bessie agreed.
 
“I wonder if
L’Ex
périence Anglaise
is even
open today.”

“We’ll have to check if we go to the
Squirrel’s Drey later,” Doona said.

“Where is our class?” Bessie asked.

“In the arts and crafts building,” Doona
told her.
 
“It’s called the Rainbow
Arts Centre and it’s on the opposite side of the lake from the Squirrel’s
Drey.”

“We walked past it this morning,” Bessie
said, once she’d realised which building Doona was talking about.
 
“I just didn’t know that it was the arts
and crafts building.”

They walked slowly around the lake, arriving
at the Rainbow Arts Centre with a few minutes to spare.
 
An older couple were
already sitting in the small lobby area, presumably waiting for their
instructor to arrive.
 
Bessie and
Doona joined them and quickly introduced themselves.

“We’re Jack and Nancy Strong,” the woman
told them.
 
“Our children sent us
here for a week as a wedding anniversary present.
 
I can’t imagine what they were
thinking.
 
I’d have much rather gone
on a cruise.
 
Anyway, we’re making
the best of it and trying out just about every activity on offer.
 
So far we’ve been bored to bits, but I
keep hoping.”

“I’m sure they meant well,” Bessie said.

“Of course they did,” Jack told them.
 
“And we’re sure to find something we
enjoy by the end of the week, even if it means we have to try everything.”

“Oh, I do hope I’m not late,” a voice said
from the doorway.
 

Bessie looked up and then frowned.
 
Andrew Cheatham was an unexpected
addition to the class.

Chapter Eight

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman,”
another voice chimed in from behind them all.

Bessie turned around and smiled at the young
woman who was standing in a doorway that led further into the building.
 

“I’m Andrea.
 
Welcome to pencil sketching,” she said.

The girl, who looked not much older than
twenty, was dressed all in black.
 
Bessie
took in the jet-black hair that was cut in a severe bob, the white foundation
with black lipstick and the multiple piercings.
 
Andrea didn’t look at all like a typical
Lakeview employee.

“Come on back to the classroom and let’s get
started,” she suggested.

Bessie glanced at Doona and shrugged before
she got to her feet and, with the others, followed the girl into a large and
brightly lit room.
 
One entire wall
was nothing but windows, which gave them an uninterrupted view of the lake
outside.
 
There were several easels
set up in front of the windows, but Andrea led them to the back of the room
where a small circle of easels surrounded an empty table.

“The easels are at various heights, so
choose one that suits you, whether you prefer to sit or stand,” Andrea told
them.
 
“They can be adjusted later
if you start standing and then want to sit for a while, as well.”

Bessie found an easel that seemed just about
right for her height and Doona quickly claimed the one next to her, which was
set just slightly higher.
 
Andrew
settled in at the one on Bessie’s other side, even though Bessie thought it
seemed a bit low for him.
 
Nancy and
Jack Strong moved next to Doona to complete the circle.

Andrea walked into the middle of the group
and smiled at each of them in turn.
 
“I’m glad you’re all here,” she said with a small smile.
 
“I just need to go over a few things
before we start.
 
First of all, I
can’t make you a professional artist in three hours, but I can help you to
improve as an amateur artist.
 
Please don’t feel like what you do isn’t good enough or isn’t
right.
 
Art is entirely subjective
and it’s about what you feel and express, not what other people see, or think
they see, in your work.”

Everyone laughed nervously.
 
Bessie didn’t have particularly high
hopes for the next three hours.
 
She’d never been any good at drawing, but she’d also never had any
proper lessons.
 
If nothing else,
she was determined to enjoy the experience.

“We’re going to start by drawing a circle,”
Andrea told them now.
 
“And that
sounds quite easy, but actually, it is really difficult to draw a circle freehand.
 
So I don’t want you to try to make it
perfectly circular.
 
Just draw
something that is more or less round and we’ll go from there.”

Bessie picked up a pencil from the tray
below her easel and took a deep breath.
 
When she noticed her hand was shaking, she scolded herself.
 
This is only a holiday park activity,
she reminded herself.
 
Stop being
such a big baby.

After another deep breath, she drew a
lopsided circle on her paper.

“Excellent,” Andrea said as she walked
around the group.
 
“I promise you that
was the hardest thing you’ll do today.
 
The very first mark on the page is always the most difficult.”

For the next hour, Andrea showed them how to
shade and colour their circles until they began to take on depth.
 
Then she had them add a square and helped
them turn the square into a box.
 

“Now I want you all to turn around,” Andrea
told them.
 
“Take three steps away
from your picture and then turn around again.
 
Tell me what you think of your piece
from a few steps away.”

Bessie turned and then smiled.
 
While her picture wasn’t exactly great
art, it looked much better than she’d ever imagined she could have done.

“It isn’t bad, is it?” Bessie said.

“Now I want you all to walk around and look
at what your classmates have done,” Andrea instructed.

“They are all very different, even though we
started with the same basic shapes,” Bessie remarked.
 
“And they’re all really good.”

After everyone had admired all of the
pictures, Andrea had them tear them off their easels.
 
“Now we’re going to try something a little
bit harder, using the same techniques we just learned,” she told them.
 

She put a tennis ball, a golf ball and a
large square box on the table in the middle of the group.
 
“I want you to draw what you see,” she
instructed them.
 
“Take it slow,
start with the shapes and see how you do.
 
I’m here to help with whatever you need.”

Bessie pulled up a chair and lowered her
easel before she began.
 
Standing
still seemed to take more energy than walking, for some reason.

“You can chat with one another if you like,”
Andrea added with a smile.
 
“This
isn’t school.”

“I’m concentrating too hard to chat,” Bessie
told her.
 
But after a few minutes,
once the basic shapes had been drawn and she was working on shading, Bessie
felt herself relaxing a little bit.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she
said to Andrew, glancing over to see him frowning at this paper.

“My oldest grandchild, who is twenty-six and
ought to know better, signed me up for about a dozen activities,” he
replied.
 
“I cancelled quite a few
of them, but then his mother, my daughter, said that that hurt his feelings, so
I agreed to try at least one or two of the less, um, well, let’s just say I
agreed to try a few.”

“And are you having fun?” Bessie had to ask.

“It isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,”
he said, grudgingly.
 
“And the
instruction is much better than I was expecting, as well.”

Andrea had walked over during the
conversation, and now she smiled at Andrew.
 
“I’m not sure if I should take that as a
compliment or not,” she said.
 
“What
were you expecting?”

Andrew shrugged.
 
“I think I thought there would be a
bunch of flowers on a table and we’d be told to draw them.
 
I didn’t expect to be given any
instruction, really.”

“Lakeview is trying hard to encourage adults
to visit without children.
 
We’ve
added a number of activities specifically for them, like this class.
 
I also teach finger painting, collage
making and cartoon drawing to the under ten set, of course,” Andrea explained.

“Do you have any idea what happened
yesterday up at the main building?” Nancy Strong asked from behind her
easel.
 
“The police were
everywhere.”

“Apparently our general manager had some
sort of accident,” Andrea replied.
 

“Oh, I do hope he’s okay,” the woman said.

“Unfortunately, he passed away,” Andrea said
sadly.
 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Nancy said.

“I hope his passing doesn’t change anything
here,” Jack said.
 
“I suspect our children
will be sending us here again next year.”

“I’m sure things will remain the same,”
Andrea assured him.
 
“Charles was
only here for a short time.
 
The
previous manager, Harold, has taken back over, at least for the time being.”

“What was Charles like to work for?” Doona
asked, her voice quiet.

“He was lovely,” Andrea said.
 
“Oh, he was a bit of a flirt, but he
didn’t mean anything by it.
 
One of
my friends, she’s a waitress in the Italian restaurant, she flirted back once
and he turned her down flat.
 
Told
her he was married, although we never saw any sign of a wife around here,
that’s for sure.”

“Wasn’t he a bit old to be flirting with
you?” Bessie asked.

“Like I said, he didn’t really mean anything
by it.
 
He just had a way of talking
to you that made you feel like the only person in the world.”
 
Andrea sighed.
 
“If I were a bit older, I might have
been tempted.”

Bessie looked hard at Doona, whose eyes were
now filling with tears.
 
“I think I
need a little break,” she announced.
 
“Can I get a glass of water or something?”

“Oh, goodness, I nearly forgot,”
Andrea
exclaimed.
 
“We’re meant to break for tea and biscuits.
 
Just give me a minute.”

While the girl fixed the tea and dumped
biscuits onto a plate, Bessie crossed to Doona.
 
“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Mostly,” Doona answered.
 
“Nothing a cuppa and a chocolate
digestive can’t fix, anyway.”

Bessie shook her head.
 
She knew Doona was being brave, but the
hurt that her friend was feeling went far beyond what tea and a sugary treat
could fix.

“Your golf ball actually looks like a ball,”
Andrew said from behind them.
 

Bessie looked at Doona’s drawing and
smiled.
 
“He’s right,” she said.
 
“Yours is much better than mine.”

Doona glanced over at Bessie’s sketch and
then smiled an almost genuine smile.
 
“I did better than I thought I could,” she said.

“If you want to feel even better about
yours, come and look at mine,” Andrew offered.
 
“My golf ball looks like a hand
grenade.”

Bessie and Doona took the three steps needed
to get to Andrew’s easel.
 
Bessie
looked at the picture and then looked at Doona.
 
They both struggled not to laugh, as
Andrew was exactly right.
 
His golf
ball did rather resemble a hand grenade.

“You can laugh.
 
I know you want to,” he said.
 
“I never claimed to be able to draw, and
I’m actually having fun, so I don’t even mind.”

“The tea’s ready,” Andrea called, saving
Bessie from needing to find a polite reply to Andrew’s comments.

“So where is everyone from?” Jack asked as
everyone fixed their drinks and selected biscuits.
 
On hearing that Doona and Bessie were
from the Isle of Man, he and Nancy launched into a seemingly endless story
about a long-ago holiday they’d had on the island.
 
That filled in the tea break
nicely.
 
When it was time to get
back to their drawings, Andrea had a new challenge for them.

“We’ve been working with fairly uniform
shapes,” she told them.
 
“Let’s see
how you do with something slightly less geometric.”

After taking away the balls and the box, she
set a vase full of flowers on the table.
 
“The key to this is to start with the shapes you can see,” she
said.
 
“The flowers are round, the
vase is rectangular.
 
Work from
there, using your shading techniques to give shape to the flowers.”

Bessie tore off her previous sketch, folding
it carefully so that she could take it with her, and then stared at the blank
sheet of paper.
 
She wasn’t even
sure where to begin with this new challenge.

“Start with the shapes,” Andrea said from
beside her.
 
She had a small piece
of blank paper in her hand and she held it against Bessie’s easel.
 
With her other hand, she quickly began
to sketch.
 
Bessie watched as the
girl drew a large rectangle for the vase with several light circles above it.

“There’s your starting point,” Andrea
said.
 
“Now you just have to fill in
the detail.”

With that, the girl set to work and within
minutes she’d turned the rough shapes into a beautiful sketch.
 
Bessie shook her head.
 
“I can’t do that,” she said firmly.

Andrea laughed.
 
“I do it twice a week,” she said.
 
“If you did the same, you’d get good,
too.”

Bessie grabbed a pencil and started in on
her picture.
 
An hour later she had
something that was just about recognisable as a vase of flowers, even if it was
nowhere near as good as the very quick sketch Andrea had done.

“It’s just about time to wrap this up for
today,” Andrea announced.
 
“You’re
all welcome to stay for another half hour if you’d like to keep working, but
after that I have a class of four and five-year-olds that I’m sure you’ll want
to miss.”