Walking
along to the linnet’s song feeling the pulse of nature beneath her feet,
Clair’s smile was as warm as the sun. This is what she had worked so hard to
have. She had made a dash for some tranquillity in her life and had found it
here in a small village in Suffolk
She
had reached the old oak tree her three dogs already knew the drill, and were
wandering off sniffing the ground for hares, rabbits and deer. She was eclectic
by nature and it showed in her assortment of dogs. Bear, her chocolate mastiff,
Peaches, a Chihuahua
The
mornings haze, slowly evaporating by the sun made a shimmering glow over the
landscape. She had soon reached her destination, pulled Bears holdalls off his
back and carefully emptied some of its contents, arranging them on the bank of
the natural pond. In the distance, four deer stood, acknowledged their presence
and nonchalantly walked away.
Clair
knew most walkers had been and gone so she could paint in solitude. For her
painting at this time had become her compulsion and her passion. It was making
her quite antisocial – if she didn’t start talking to someone soon she would
forget how too! She reflected on this point as she drew in the bulrushes and
mixed her paint.
Her
dogs with their noses to the ground in contentment, gave her comfort. She
captured the beams of light, and picked out the differing lush greens of the
leaves and grasses, all mixed in with the deep brown yellow of the growing
corn. This background made the deep velvet of the bulrushes shine with lustier.
Something was odd; too many dogs, a black Lab had joined her pack. He had
calmly and without bother just taken up his place. Where there was a dog, meant
there was an owner. Clair’s panic rose.
Her
paintings were immensely private to her. She started to hyperventilate as she
went into the now familiar uncontrollable, fever pitch of anxiety. A soothing
calm voice apologised for disturbing her. The blood that had flowed to her ears
muffled the words as she franticly looked round, but the sun glared her vision,
so that only an outline of the man could be seen.
‘Gosh
you’ve captured Rip!’ She looked down at her work and there in the foreground,
was the character of him, captured by his demeanour, which burst out through
his velvet eyes and glistened with innate intensity. She was stunned that she
had been so absorbed – she had painted a dog she had never seen before. Rip
must have been there for sometime, watching her through the long reeds. She
stood back and agreed – she had done a mighty fine job!
The
man slowly came and sat by her on the bank, slipping off his rucksack. In London
“Sorry
for startling you, I didn’t mean to pry but I would like to know if you would
consider selling me your painting?”
“Oh!’
Clair fumbled not knowing what to say. She actually believed he meant it.
“I
like the way you’ve shown his humour.” Clair smiled – she had somehow painted a
mellow chuckle in the dog’s eyes. “Are you from around here or just visiting?”
He asked.
“I’ve
just moved into the little cottage, on the bad bend – back there.” She pointed
in the vague direction.
“Oh
I heard there was a young townie just moved in there.” He chuckled, a mellow
and congenial chuckle to match his dog’s expression. She could also tell he had
sized her up, understood her straight away. He accepted her for her, now that
was refreshing.
“I’ve
a couple of rolls” would you like to join me?”
“Love
too, would you like a slice of quiche?” He started to laugh as she brought out
the full picnic she had prepared – including half a bottle of champagne. She
started to laugh with him. Bear’s bags where like the magicians hat, a feast
fit for a table slowly emerged. Normally she would never have shown anyone,
afraid of the ridicule. She liked picnics to be special, just for the sense of
occasion. People thought her silly, over the top but to-day she turned fifty,
and well there was something different in the way she felt, to-day she didn’t
care quite so much what people thought, helped by John’s enjoyment of her
little foible.
The
Linnets took to the sky, Bear lay down and Peaches curled up for their
lunchtime snooze, while the other two dogs went looking for anything that moved.
The Linnets song hit the serenity note as two new friends talked about life in
general and the village history in particular. There they sat amongst the
grass, Clair with her tall elegant champagne flute, and John with his thermos
flask cup.
As
she loaded Bear’s bags up, John with natural ease called the dogs, and they all
walked along the side of the fields to the road. It was no surprise to her that
he was a dog trainer, his ability to command respect through his soft
encouraging energy, was inspirational.
She
got a girlish sense of fun at his face as he saw Peaches climb up into Bear’s
backpack. Peaches face poked out periodically with a comical twisting
to-and-fro to see what was happening and then she would pop back inside.
Peaches now twelve deserved a rest. John was impressed with her agility and
energy and instead of making a fuss or poking fun – he took a picture and set
it as a screen saver.
“Most
people would not believe a fighting dog would ever behave that gentlemanly way.
I have to go to the local school and give a talk about dogs, the children would
love to see Peaches and Bear” Clair visibly shied away, her pulse racing. John
held her elbow while she breathed through it. “I would have to lead them, if
you don’t mind, for insurance purposes – you know how it is these days.” He let
go as soon as her breathing was normal and held her gaze until he was sure she
was calm again.
Each
time the insurmountable happened, she had coped and enjoyed the elation of
overcoming, the awkward reaction to meeting new people – thanks to John’s warm
and perceptive personality.
When
they had gone a little further, he asked her if she would consider taking on a
commission for him. One of his closest friends birthday was coming up and he
wanted something special for him. Could she paint a dog from a picture? She
said she would give it a go. He nodded and looked at her sideways and his
expression made her believe that she was good enough for the task and his faith
in her made her anxiety abate.
As
they walked along the little birds hovered and soared, singing all the while.
As Clair looked up she felt her new roots beginning to be set down here,
amongst this year’s ripening harvest and the Linnets unwavering song.
