The War Artist by Jan Casey

Author:Jan Casey [Casey, Jan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781803283852
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

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Archie stood outside the car, scanning the hordes coming in from Liverpool Street. Dame Lily, too, peered through the windscreen hoping to glimpse her son the minute he appeared. Never having met Ignatius, Sybil wouldn’t have been able to pick him out from all the other uniform-clad men arriving or departing. Then an officer broke away from the crowds and stepped smartly towards the car, his hand out to shake Archie’s.

Although quite tall, he was shorter than Sybil had imagined; there was a chip of amber in his eyes and his hair a darker shade of auburn than hers. Dame Lily was dark, but Sir Geoffrey had the kind of fluffy white hair that would have been that same reddish colour when he was younger. Ignatius opened the back door, leaned in and grabbed his mother in a tight embrace. All Sybil could see was how the sun had caught the nape of his neck, and the golden hairs sprouting on the backs of his hands.

He and Dame Lily murmured to each other for a few moments, then he looked up, his face flushed, and his mother introduced Sybil to him as an ex-student who had a WAAC commission and huge potential as an artist. That made her face redden to match his.

He hopped into the front passenger seat, half-turned and held Dame Lily’s hand for the entire two-hour drive back to Seagulls’ Watch. It was a beautiful sight and Sybil hoped that later, she’d be able to capture the love and deep distress on their faces when they looked at each other. A tinge of jealousy crept over her, knowing there wasn’t a father who would look out for her or a brother or husband who would hold her hand in that way. Had Graeme ever looked at her like that? She was sure that if he had, she would have been able to recall it in vivid detail.

During dinner that night, the conversation was composed and civilised. They talked a lot about art and Ignatius said that tomorrow he would share his sketches of Army life with them but warned that they might find some of them distressing. ‘Your father has been to war, Iggy,’ Dame Lily scoffed. ‘And Sybil and I have seen some terrible sights in this country. We’re not ones to faint, are we, my dear?’

‘No, Dame Lily. ‘We can’t be so self-indulgent, but thank you, Iggy, for being chivalrous and thinking about our sensitivities.’

Ignatius sat back in his chair and shook his head. ‘I don’t think I’m going to win here,’ he said. ‘Especially now there are two of you. Do you know, Sybil, that Mama always won every discussion, conversation or debate even though it was four against one? Didn’t she, Papa?’

‘Don’t forget, son,’ Sir Geoffrey lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, ‘we let her.’

Dame Lily feigned hurt with a loud inhale and a hand on her chest. ‘How dare you, Geoffrey,’ she said. ‘You know very well I have no need to cheat.

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