First I must apologise - it has taken me a day or two to get back in a routine after the weekend away. So, by way of compensation, I have entered a larger segment of The Story. While I was away I wondered what the title should be- "Drawing From Life" was my original idea, but I'm not exactly wedded to it. If any thoughts on this occur to you reading it please do let me know - I love fresh input.

Getting back to town was tougher than I expected. Over just two nights in the North all the dissonance had floated away. It came rushing back at the point where highway changed to motorway and the visual pollution of road signs and advertising kicked in. If nothing else, being away sharpens our focus and reinforces the commitment to align life more closely with who we know ourselves to be. 

More of Chapter 2:

Bill Egan got up and showered on Wednesday without enthusiasm. He needed his wits about him this morning. After the dentist at 8am he had meetings up until midday. After that he was to chaperone a couple of visiting dignitaries about. Squiring them to lunch was also on the cards. He toweled off, thinking how he usually liked the PR jazz. He just couldn’t face dealing with it today.

 He chose a double breasted slate coloured wool suit- then put it back in the wardrobe. He didn’t know these visitors. Maybe a more conservative single breasted effort would be better. He found himself dithering over a tie as well- something he seldom faltered on. He finally settled on a bright silk with a blue-grey repeating design of sea shells. Art directors got to wear representational ties, he decided. The punters expect it.

All of that rigmarole made him late leaving the house.  He made up time walking down through Newmarket and into Remuera Road. It was cold enough to encourage a turn of speed. The waiting room was empty when he got there, so he just walked on through to the surgery and slid into the chair. 

Precisely twenty-five minutes later Bill was settling the account with his back to the waiting area. When the receptionist looked up past him, he turned to see what had caught her attention. There was a woman sitting all absorbed in her book. It was the hair that made him look twice, the same coppery curls he had seen the other day. It was such a bizarre coincidence. He kept glancing behind him while the receipts and dockets were printing, hoping to catch her eye. When the assistant came out and called “Rhona you’re on next” the auburn head lifted and Bill watched her smile at the girl. He had never seen her smile before.  He noticed her green eyes enlarge slightly as she recognised him. There was a pause before she stood and said “Bill isn’t it?”

She was wearing a cowl neck jersey that came down to her knees over jeans. It was an improvement on the raincoat, he thought, but not by much. He wanted to say something about the other day but the assistant jumped in, explaining they had to keep moving if she was to keep to the appointment schedule. They disappeared behind the screening partition before he could ask say anything at all.

Rhona kept the little incident at the dentist to herself. When she met her friend Charlie, for their regular walk, the conversation was more general anyway. She mentioned there were changes at home- that she and Gracie were going to change their routines a bit, now that they had the house more or less to themselves. It wasn’t until she mentioned that she was trying to get back into the way of drawing that the conversation became more personal. She told him how John had been home for dinner on Wednesday night and laughed at the pile of sketching books she had out from the library, saying she would be better to settle for a floral art class and be done with it. He couldn’t have known how badly she froze up at the sight of a blank page but, as she told Charlie, it did nothing for her self confidence. She burst out “All I wanted was to do something that meant something to me – some sense of achievement you know?”

They had started to climb the first hill on Remuera Rd, walking briskly into the late winter sunshine. Charlie was a fit and active 60 year old whose longer legs set a smart pace for her. As they crested the rise he suggested it was an understandable block. “From what you told me you had a huge emotional load on you as an art student. It’s probably not the drawing itself but what’s associated with it.”  They reached the intersection at the top of the hill and turned back the way they had come. Rhona waited until they were clear of the shops before saying carelessly “Oh maybe I’ll just chuck it and try getting a proper job.”

He answered in an equally light tone. “Well that is one option, but I can’t see John being overjoyed about it.”

She said firmly “John’s got nothing to do with it.”

“At last,” Charlie said ecstatically to the sky. He took her hand in his and went on at a faster pace, “Why don’t you do both? Get a little part time job and go back to your art - let me think about that- as for the other- well, short of hypnosis or something, you’ll just have to keep trying – if it’s important to you. Get out and give it a chance as often as you can.

The following Monday morning Rhona was outside the Anglican Cathedral in Parnell when Bill Egan came past on his way to brunch. He saw her sitting on a bench at the edge of the courtyard, gazing at the roofline where the modern cathedral met the old wooden one. She had a sketch pad on her knees and was grasping a pencil in two fists, overhand. He stopped near her seat, hesitating before he slid onto the far end of the bench, leaving a respectable distance between them. Even from there Bill could see there wasn’t a mark on the page.

Until she turned her gaze directly upon him Bill was sure Rhona hadn’t noticed his approach, but her eyes locked straight to his. She asked “Where do I start?” He opened his mouth to say hello in the conventional way, but shut it again. Without moving any closer, he directed his glance to the cathedral saying “with the horizon”.

She nodded but made no move to draw. She just sat there looking at the roof.

Bill sat quiet too and studied her out of the corner of his eye. There was some point of difference about her. She was more composed than he had seen her before, but there was no relaxation in that stillness. She was wearing a close fitting green jersey today with a necklace made of pieces of polished bone. The slim fitting jeans and ankle boots looked new. He noted there was a figure after all- a lean and agile one. The worn leather bag at her feet was the same one he remembered from before.

She was saying something that sounded like “I haven’t done this before you see”. She had a low pitched voice for a woman. He wasn’t sure he had heard correctly

He said “Sorry?” taking the opportunity to look at her openly.

She just continued, as if he hadn’t spoken “A friend suggested I try to draw what I saw in things that I liked. It seemed a great idea but…” She turned to him, smiling slightly, as she continued. “Since I’ve been here looking, I realised it’s the shadows of the buildings I like…I can’t really explain. Anyway I find I don’t have the mechanics –you see?”

He moved a little closer to her, saying “Yes I see.” When she made no further movement or remark he leaned nearer to pick up her line of sight. He was close enough to catch a light herby fragrance from her hair. He saw the shine and rich colour of the curls were natural, cut blunt to the line of her chin. He said “Where exactly?”

She took one hand off the pencil and indicated a place where the gothic building threw an outline onto the stark concrete of the modern addition. Bill could see what she meant. It was not a view for a beginner. He said “There are defining lines there if you look. Maybe squint your eyes up a bit and draw what you see- not, you know, what you expect to see.” He turned to her to confirm her understanding and found himself staring into her eyes again. Her naked lashes were long and dark brown, sweeping her upper lids at the top and just touching the skin under her eye.

Rhona broke the gaze first without answering. Looking quickly down at the page and then away to the roof, she began tentatively to rough out the key lines. Bill watched a while. He could see she knew how to go about it, but the lines were hesitant. She was gently biting her bottom lip, which was fuller than the top one. He saw that when she reduced the pressure her lips turned up at the corners in a pleasing way.

Finally Rhona took her eyes away from the skyline and turned to him, frowning. He was caught out looking and immediately moved his eyes to the page.

“Can you show me please?” she asked, holding the pencil out to him. When he took it, her fingers were dwarfed by his and cold against the back of his hand.

“Sure.” He reached over and in a few strokes he roughed in the lines and angles for her to discern the form better. He was aware of her watching the pencil and of the creaking sound his leather jacket made as he moved. A stray wisp of her hair tickled his jaw.

“Thank you” was all she said as she took the pencil from him and closed the pad.

“Enough?” he asked leaning forward on his jeans-clad knees, clasping his hands loosely together.

“Yes.” Her mobile face was so open. He had pleased her. She said “I can try it at home another time”.

He watched in silence as she rummaged about in her bag and brought out a battered Nikon. The case was scratched and dulled in places from continuous handling. Stepping lightly up on the bench Rhona took several shots before springing down. She looked up at him with a wide smile breaking as she reached out, offering her hand to shake.

“Thank you Bill. I am glad to meet you again.”

He took her hand briefly as she asked conversationally “No work for you today?”

“No.” He leaned on one arm laid along the bench. “I have so much leave owing they asked me to take Monday’s off for the next few months. I usually have a long sleep in and then brunch down the road.” He gestured towards the Parnell shops.

She nodded as she packed her things away. “Well that’s relaxing. I hope you enjoy it today.”

He saw she was ready to leave.

Standing fiddling with the strap on her bag she said self-consciously “I apologise for leaving you so abruptly the other day. It was an amazing coincidence to see you at the dentists too.”

Bill grunted. “Right. Look what about now? You’re being pretty abrupt now aren’t you?”

She looked away, up the road, lifting her bag to one shoulder. “I’m sorry, but…it doesn’t matter.”

Bill got quickly to his feet and turned, standing back from her, but remaining in her way. He found he had to control his voice. “That’s what you said the other day – that it didn’t matter. Of course it matters. You shouldn’t say “It doesn’t matter” he mimicked her manner of speech.

Rhona moved away.  Two vertical lines had appeared between her thick shapely brows.

“No. Of course. You’re right.” She stepped forward, then back again, her hand going to her forehead unconsciously. Words came out as if she was running. “But I don’t know you, you see. And you probably wouldn’t be interested even if I could explain it.”

Bill fired back. “OK. You don’t know me – so how could you possibly know if I’m interested or not?”

 Rhona glared at him. She made to turn and walk off but he stepped around her before she could get away.

“Come to brunch with me,” he said in a more appeasing tone.

She raised her eyebrows at him in a study of amazement at his presumption. In silence she made a great play of checking her watch, still without speaking, and looked away to some point behind him. Bill smirked and said “Oh. Going to meet your husband?” That did it.

Rhona drew herself up to her full height and looked imperiously up at him. It was ridiculous. She hardly came up to his armpit but there was no doubt she was livid.

“I thought you said brunch. Aren’t you a little ahead of yourself Mr….”

“Egan. The name is Egan” he snapped back.  “And don’t get excited Mrs Rhona whoever you are, because you’re not my type”

“Well I wouldn’t have thought so”, she replied before smirking and striking a pose with her hip jutting out in a parody of teenage girls. “I would have thought a brainless thirty years your junior was more your style”

Bill looked skyward, exhaling slowly, before saying conversationally “You, woman, are a bitch.” That statement was accompanied by a satirical smile to which Rhona curtseyed. She actually did a full curtsy in the middle of the footpath before walking off up the road towards Newmarket at a furious pace.

“Oi. Wait.” In a few long strides he had caught her up and got in front of her. “Look stop. Please,” he demanded, reaching out but not touching her.

She stopped and stood looking up at him, biting her bottom lip and frowning.

He tried again. “Brunch?”

It seemed a long wait before she nodded. They turned about together in silence. After no more than a couple of metres Rhona started to laugh and took hold of his arm. Bill looked down in some confusion before he shrugged and tucked her hand comfortably into his elbow. “What happened there?” he asked her lightly, hoping this crazy impulse was not going to involve him in psychiatry.

She looked up, still laughing. “You pushed my button.”

“No, you pushed mine first.”

“No …”

He raised a finger to his lips and led her down to the intersection of St Stephens Ave saying “Truce. Not one word until we reach the Italian understood?”