Dazzle Patterns by Alison Watt & Alison Watt

Author:Alison Watt & Alison Watt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Historical, General, Literary
Publisher: Freehand Books
Published: 2017-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

IT WAS DUSK by the time Clare pushed her shoulder into the front door of the art school, holding the book close to her chest. Evening light was creeping back, though spring still felt far away. The air was cold and smoky, without a hint of bud or resin.

Fred Baker came around the corner, suddenly illuminated by the circle of gaslight. Clare stopped, waiting for him to notice her, but he was walking fast, with his usual slight stoop and his eyes down. He was late for class. He carried a cardboard tube, which she guessed held some of his drawings. Work he must have done at home. Where did he live? She felt an unexplainable twinge of sadness, thinking of him working alone at his table.

“Mr. Baker,” she called.

He stopped abruptly, turned to peer at her. “Oh, Miss Holmes. I’m sorry, I was preoccupied.”

“Clare,” she said.

“Clare,” he answered as if turning it over in his mind. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking classes.”

He broke into one of his rare smiles. “I didn’t know you were interested in art.” He stepped a little closer.

“I took some lessons as a girl.”

“And will you take a full training here?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She held the Impressionist book to her chest. “I needed something … to do.”

For a moment Fred looked as if he wanted to ask her more. Then, “I must go,” he said, looking up at the second storey windows of the art school.

“Goodnight then, Mr. Baker.”

“Fred,” he said. “Perhaps I will see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Celia has asked me to help her practise some Bach.” He looked sheepish. “I’m not sure I can keep up to her. She’s very good. Or maybe next week when the glassworks opens again,” Fred added. “Did you see the notice in the paper this morning?”

In the gathering dark, a man came around the corner towards them. Something about his solid form, his stiff-kneed gait, his farmer’s jacket. Her father! For an instant Clare was pleasantly surprised. In the next instant, dread rushed from her gut to her throat. Why had he come all this way to find her?

“Clare,” he called, trying to control the urgency of his purpose.

“Dad, what is it?” She clutched the book tightly to her chest.

Fred, who had been turning towards the front steps of the art school, turned back, hesitating.

Her father was breathing heavily. “The girl at your rooming house — Geraldine — told me I would find you here.”

Fred looked back and forth between them.

“Fred, this is my father. Dad, a friend from the glassworks, Fred Baker.”

Clare’s father nodded briefly at Fred. “We should go back to the house.” He took Clare’s elbow and began directing her away.

“No. Tell me now. Here,” Clare said.

Her father looked uneasily at Fred, who was standing awkwardly, as if not sure what to do.

“I should go,” Fred said, at the same moment Clare’s father said, “It’s Leo.”

Clare’s dread dropped through her like a stone.

“He’s missing,” her father said, his clear blue eyes filling with tears.

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