‘They’re courting,’ said Rupert. ‘Monogamous like us.’
‘How sweet.’
‘Don’t be mistaken. They’re scavengers at heart. Can you see the twiggy ball at the top of that tree to the left?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a nest, lined with rubbish I bet. They pick up anything twinkly. Would snatch a Kit Kat wrapper straight out your hand.’
‘What about a piece of jewellery?’
He laughed. ‘Only if you left it lying on the ground.’
Yes, I thought, this I’ve seen happen.
As we walked on Rupert didn’t draw breath on the subject. ‘They live off carrion. Would pick the tongue out of a dead man. Heaven knows why they’re protected. Highly intelligent but horrible birds. There seems to be an explosion of them around here.’
We turned a z bend and came upon a cottage.
‘That must be where Ewen lives,’ I said.
‘Shall we rat-a-tat-tat at his door?’
‘Why not.’
A few seconds later and Ewen was standing in the frame, wrapped up in a red tartan dressing gown.
‘Wow,’ he gasped, ‘I did not expect to see you two.’
‘Rather bumptious of us to appear on your doorstep like this,’ said Rupert, grabbing hold of Haggis’s collar, ‘but Susie and I thought why not.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘We didn’t mean to get you out of bed.’
‘No, no. I’m up. Just not dressed.’
‘Susie,’ said Rupert, looking at his watch, ‘we have precisely nine minutes to spare.’
‘Oh,’ said Ewen. ‘Would you like to come in?’
‘Yes please,’ I said. ‘That would be great.’
‘Well,’ Ewen yawned, ‘leave Haggis in the porch and come this way into the sitting room.’
He flung open the curtains of the bay window and the early morning light lit up two lovely landscapes either side of the fireplace.
‘These are very attractive,’ I said, getting up close. ‘Who’s the artist?’
‘Eerie,’ muttered Rupert.
‘Cameron,’ said Ewen. ‘D. Y. Cameron. They’re twentieth century and if you look at this one,’ I went to his side, ‘the group of hills in the background are called Beinn Eighe. Not far from here. On a good day you can see them from Fergus’s terrace.’
‘Really?’ said Rupert.
‘Yes, the white quartzite sparkles.’
‘I’ve never seen a mountain like that.’
‘No mountains in Scotland,’ said Ewen. ‘They’re either called hills, beinns or munroes.’
‘I never knew.’
‘Not many people do.’
‘Hey Rupert,’ I said, ‘come closer and look at the subdued colours, they might help you this afternoon.’
‘You’ll have to give me more to go on than that,’ he said, winking at Ewen.
‘Okay then. See how few colours there are?’ I asked.
‘Blue. It’s all varying shades of blue.’
‘Atmospheric perspective,’ said Ewen, taking over. ‘As things recede their colour becomes less saturated. They assume the background colour. Bluer like the sky.’
‘I see.’
‘Unless you’re painting a sunset. Then you make the object paler and redder.’
‘I thought you were a photographer. Do you paint too?’
‘I am an occasional painter. I did a photography course to help me understand paintings.’
‘Why?’ said Rupert.
‘I knew if I learnt to take good pictures of paintings, I could then work from them back home. You know, dissect them, leave the emotion of the real thing aside and understand the technical details. It helps me get better quicker.’
‘Yes,’ I said, knowing exactly what he meant. Often when I visit art galleries I stand side on to a painting, getting as close as I can in order to see how the paint’s applied, what ground it’s on and whether it’s varnished or not. Much like Oliver was doing this morning. I’ve always bought postcards in the shop to work from at home but I suppose a very good photograph would be better, that way I could zoom in, get really close to the detail.
‘If you know how to work a camera,’ Ewen directed his comment at Rupert, ‘you can make an incredibly good reproduction and study it at home to your heart’s content. Problem is,’ he joked against himself, ‘despite doing a course, I’m not very good at photography.’
‘Well, if you paint,’ said Rupert, ‘you should join our afternoon class.’
‘Susie doesn’t look so sure about that.’
‘The thing is,’ I said nervously, ‘everyone’s paying to come on this week and I think if you were to join in it would change the dynamics and perhaps, if you don’t mind me saying, it might appear as if you were taking advantage.’
‘Good point,’ said Rupert.
‘That’s exactly what it would be…me taking advantage of you being here. Don’t worry, I’ll keep out of it.’
‘Thanks,’ I smiled.
A loud whine came from the porch.
‘Rupert, it’s probably time we made our way back.’
He turned to Ewen. ‘Would you mind if I had a quick glass of water first? I’m feeling rather parched.’
‘Sure, come.’ Ewen took us down a dull corridor into a mint green kitchen. ‘Not a patch on my brother’s pile, eh?’
‘Easy to manage,’ said Rupert.
There was a laptop on the table. I could just make out a progress bar on the screen – ‘Downloading original. ZIP 500 GB 6hrs remaining’. What a massive file. I wonder if it has anything to do with Zoe’s internet allowance?
‘Susie?’ Ewen snapped and I looked away. ‘Water?’
‘No thanks.’
‘Jolly glad we knocked,’ said Rupert. ‘Any chance we can have a quick look at your studio?’
‘Nope.’
‘I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn.’
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We really must go.’
Ewen stood on the step waving us off as Haggis bolted back up the drive.
‘Left right, left right,’ boomed Rupert. ‘We mustn’t be late for class.’
Cailey swaggered into the room, five minutes late, without an apology.
‘Hiya everybody,’ she grinned with a smile so huge one couldn’t not be charmed.
‘Cailey,’ I said as she reached for her belt, ‘there’s no need to get undressed today. We’re going to concentrate on your head.’
‘Whatever yous wan’t I’ll do.’
‘Thanks. Pop your bag over there and then come sit on this stool…’
Jane interrupted, ‘So, we’re painting a portrait, are we?’
‘Yes, a head study in watercolour.’
Shane began to move his easel behind the stool. ‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘You have to get a view of her face.’
He shuffled round next to the others and Cailey came to sit down.
‘This do youse okay?’
‘Absolutely great.
