Out of the Mist

"I might just join, who do I talk to?"

"That would be Dorothy Jenkins, her card is in the window. I could mention that you are interested to her and get her to drop by, she'll be dropping by in about an hour."

"Would you? I would be interested in talking to her. Now, the groceries, I need some eggs, milk, bacon, potatoes, pumpkin,"

"Why don't you give me your list and I'll get the stuff together and I'll get my Henry to deliver it to you, I think you've got too much here to be lugging it home, what with the baby and all."

The first visitor to their cottage was Henry Sturridge with the groceries. "Good afternoon Mrs Cullen, Mary asked me to drop around with your groceries. Next time you're in the shop you can fix up the bill. It's a nice cottage this one, old Bert Thompson lived here all his life, he was born in the main bedroom and when his parents died he moved back in with his new wife and all three of their children were born in this cottage. It was a pity that none of them wanted to live here, but then I suppose this place has little attraction for young people of today."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, we find it suits us just fine. It's within an easy commute to the city and the relaxed atmosphere here is just perfect for raising Felicity."

"I best be getting on then, It's been a pleasure meeting you. You'll have to bring your husband down to meet us, maybe Saturday morning?"

Later on that afternoon there was a hearty knock on the door. Cassandra opened the door to be confronted by a hearty middle aged woman, her ruddy face bisected by two rows of massive teeth. "Hullo there! I'm Dorothy Jenkins, and Mary tells me that you may be interested in joining our little art group." This exudation ran a close second to her out-thrust hand. Cassandra found her hand pumped enthusiastically for several seconds before it was released.

"Well yes, I am interested. It has been some time since I last did any art work so I might be a little rusty. What sort of art do you concentrate on in this group?"

"A bit of everything, we dabble in oils and water-colour, pen, ink and charcoal drawing, we have our own supply of charcoal one of the chaps makes it for us, we also do some pottery and clay sculpture, ceramics, china painting, you name it and we'll have a jolly good crack at it." This statement was delivered at a breathtaking pace and it took some time for it all to sink in.

"When do you meet?"

"We have a get together tomorrow morning at nine, would that be suitable for you?"

"Yes, I'll see you then. Will I need to bring anything with me?"

"A smock if you have one and a plate of something for morning tea. Tomorrow is charcoal sketching so all the necessary materials are on hand."

"Great! I'll see you in the morning then."

"Jolly good show! I'll see you then. By the way we meet in the church hall on the main street, you can't miss it and there will be a sign out although why we bother with that I don't know, everyone knows where it is and when we meet."

Cassandra rummaged through all of her clothing but was unable to find a suitable smock, so she borrowed an old shirt of Christopher's.

"How was your day?" She asked as he walked through the door.

"Much the same as always, although I did have lunch with Nigel and he told me that Jeremy and Julian were no longer an item and that Jeremy was seen with Jonathon at a cocktail party last Saturday. Julian is quite distraught about the whole thing so the rest of the girls are organising a weekend trip to Gay Paree."

"Do you want to go too?"

"No, I want to get stuck into the garden on the weekend."

"Don't make too many plans we have a sort of invite to go down to the general store, Henry Sturridge wants to meet you. I think he might have an ulterior motive. By the way, I'm checking out the local art group in the morning and I need to borrow one of your old shirts to wear as a smock, will that be okay?"

"Sure it will. You don't waste any time getting to know the locals do you?"

"All I did was to go to the store for some groceries. There all so friendly here."

The next morning saw Cassandra hauling the pram up the front steps of the church hall. The hall contained around ten people, mostly women, seated in a semi-circle around a dais. Around this group bustled HMS Jenkins, handing out paper and charcoal sticks to the group. She caught sight of Cassandra as she pushed Felicity through the door. "I say everybody, everybody, a little shush please. I'd like you to meet our newest member, Cassandra Cullen, she's just moved into the old Thompson place and is interested in our little group. So I would like all of you to give her a hearty welcome!"

As one the group stood and applauded Cassandra, milling around her, the men shaking her hand and the women giving her a welcoming peck on the cheek before squatting in front of the pram and clucking maternally over Felicity.

"You can sit here, next to me." Dorothy said as she handed Cassandra her paper and charcoal, "We are just waiting for the model to get here."

The back door opened and a young man in a dressing gown walked in and took his position on the chair at the centre of the dais. He dropped the dressing gown as he sat down. "Where do you want me?"

"Anywhere you like, you hunky young thing." One of the group gushed bringing laughter from the group.

"Now, now Jenny, just because you fancy him there is no need to be so forward." Dorothy remonstrated.

Silence settled on the group, a silence that was punctuated by low exclamations of frustration as a line didn't go where it was supposed to. Cassandra worked swiftly, her mind going back to art school and sketches for busts. After about half an hour she sat back and looked closely at her work, 'I've lost none of my touch' she thought.

"Oh I say that is jolly good! Have a look at this everyone. we have a true artist in our midst."

"Why did you only do the head?" Jenny asked, "After all the body is the best part."

"I'm just used to doing heads, I find bodies can be a little distracting."

"That kind of distraction I'm happy to have."

"Jenny, if you keep that sort of talk up I will have to exclude you from life classes involving male models."

"Spoil sport. But it will be no great imposition, I have him all to myself when he is not here posing for you."

Cassandra's sketch was correct in every detail and the shading was as she envisaged the finished bronze bust. She felt self-conscious at the fuss being made over what was after all just a preliminary sketch.

She began to draw again, this time a profile sketch, her stick of charcoal skimming with ease over the page until profile was complete. "I would like to work this up in clay and maybe if we have the facility hereabouts, have it cast in bronze."

"Gosh, I don't know, we've never had anyone who did bronzes, I'm sure that we can find someone who can do the casting for you. Leave it with me, I'll ask around and get back to you on that."

"You caused quite a stir with Dorothy, she didn't know what was happening." Mary Sturridge gushed as Cassandra and Christopher entered the store. "She's been top dog in the art scene around here for as many years as we care to remember and has everyone firmly convinced that she is so brilliant, then you arrive and in one morning not only is she doubting her talent but so is everyone else in the group."

"I certainly didn't mean to do that, I suppose that once I had that stick of charcoal in my hand I got carried away. Do you think I should apologise to her?"

"Don't you dare! It's about time she was put in her place."

"Now Christopher, I don't suppose that you play cricket, do you?" Henry Sturridge asked.

"I did at Cambridge, don't worry, I wasn't in the first eleven or anything like that."

"I had to ask you because we are getting a little short on numbers, and any new person in town gets asked the same question. I don't mean to rush you but, are you free in about an hour?"

"Are you that desperate? I suppose I could help out if you're short of numbers. I don't have any pads or anything like that, not even a bat."

"Don't worry about that, as long as you have a whitish shirt and trousers we can supply the rest. I'll see you on the green at eleven then."

"Now you're going to have to explain this cricket game to me, all I know of is baseball and football."

"I suppose by football you mean that gridiron game that you play in the States. Football around here is soccer, we have another football game called rugby, but to the purists football is soccer."

Christopher and Cassandra were introduced around before the teams assembled for the game. "We have two teams of eleven players, the batting team and the bowling team. The team that wins the toss elects whether it wants to bat first or field first." Christopher was attempting to teach her a game that, to the uninitiated, defies logic. "The batting team sends the batsmen out two at a time and when one of them gets out he is replaced by another until ten batsmen are out, or the team declares the innings closed. The method of dismissals are, bowled, that's where the batsman misses the ball and it strikes the stumps behind him, caught, that is where he hits the ball and a member of the fielding team catches it, stumped, where he misses the ball but it misses the stumps and goes through to the keeper, if the batsman is out of his ground the wicket keeper can remove the bails and the batsman is out, LBW or leg before wicket, that is where the batsman misses the ball and it strikes him on his pads, if the referee deems that it would have, had it not hit the pads, carried through and hit the wicket, the batsman is out, hit wicket, where the batsman hits the stumps with either his bat or foot and dislodges the bails, and finally run out which is where either batsmen is out of his ground and the ball is returned either to the strikers end or the non-strikers end and the bails are removed."

When the game started, the local team was batting, Cassandra needed more clarification. "In baseball the pitcher stands on a mound and throws the ball, here the pitcher runs and when he reaches the sticks at his end he then throws it."

"He doesn't throw it, he bowls it. If you watch him his bowling arm must be straight, if it is bent he's ruled to have chucked it and that bowl is declared a 'no ball' and has to be bowled again, the batting team is awarded a run as well."

"But if he's running when he bowls the ball it must travel really fast, what if the batsman gets hit?"

"The idea is not to get hit because it can hurt, especially if the bowler delivers that ball as fast as some of the West Indian and Australian bowlers at around a hundred miles an hour. But not all bowlers bowl fast, we also have spin bowlers who put spin on the ball so that it deviates both through the air and off the pitch."

Just then there was a cheer from the players on the field as the dreaded death rattle announced to the hapless batsman that the ball had missed his bat but not the stumps. "You're up next Christopher, you'd better pad up." Henry said.

Christopher picked up a set of pads and a box, that piece of equipment so vital to protect that part of the anatomy so important to reproduction. He stuffed it down the front of his trousers and adjusted it until it was relatively comfortable, then he sat with his new team-mates and waited for his turn at the crease.

Meanwhile Cassandra was something of an instant celebrity she was quickly included in the women's circle who sat around and watched the game, nibbling on sandwiches, drinking tea and talking about anything and everything, which included the happenings in the local art scene. "Dorothy's nose is out of joint because of you. She has queened it over us for so long, if any of us showed any talent she was put down, but you arrive showing genuine talent and she found herself clearly out of her depth, not knowing what to do. I think she may have to visit a sick relative for an indefinite time and we will be left to our own devices. The last time she did that it was three weeks before she decided that we weren't coping without her and returned."

A cheer from the fielding team announced Christopher's turn at bat. As he passed the outgoing batsman he was told to watch the in-swinger, but other than that he was a stock bowler. Christopher took guard and prepared to face the first ball in a few years. The bowler was quick but Christopher managed to lay bat on ball and it flew to the boundary. A four off his first ball had him wondering how the bowler would react. He expected a short ball and swaying towards the off-side he helped it on its way to the fine-leg boundary. The batsman at the other end walked down the pitch. "He'll probably bowl his in-swinger next, watch out for it."

It turned out to be good advice, it was an in-swinging yorker that was just a little too short pitched and Christopher was able to hit in on the up and clear the fieldsman at Long On, a third four in a row. It was the end of that over and Christopher was at the non-strikers end for several balls before a single put him in strike. He didn't hit a four and a groan came from the spectators who had almost come to expect a boundary from every ball faced.

After an hour at the crease Christopher had compiled a creditable half century before he mistimed a pull shot and was caught behind Square Leg. The spectators gave him a round of applause as he walked from the field. Henry shook his hand as they passed each other, "Well done Lad, good show."

Cassandra didn't really understand the finer points of the game but was aware, from the conversation around her that Christopher had performed well in his first game, the suggestion being that there would be no opposition to him becoming a regular member of the team. At the end of the innings lunch was taken. This consisted of food brought down from the hotel washed down with beer from a keg, also from the hotel. Little consideration seem to be given to the sobriety or otherwise of the players, although Cassandra did notice that the home team was holding back somewhat on the beer.

The home team bowlers made steady rather than spectacular inroads in the opposition top order batsmen and three wickets had fallen when Christopher was called in as first change bowler. He bowled at a fast medium pace with his main focus on maintaining line and length thus limiting the scoring opportunities for the batsmen. His stock ball was a fullish length outside the line of off stump that kicked up and swung sharply towards the rib-cage of the batsmen. By his fourth over he had two batsmen caught behind attempting to fend off these balls.

The home team made short work of the tail and the opposition was dismissed still twenty runs short of the winning total. There were congratulations all round and Christopher received quite a few of these. The gear was packed up and the players all adjourned to the pub where a rowdy celebration was soon in full swing. Christopher seemed perfectly at home in this crowd of locals.

Cassandra sat quietly in the corner with some of the other women but her thoughts were not with them. She was remembering her student days, not so long ago, of Grantley and their friends and how they all seemed so comfortable in each other's company. "You must be proud of your husband." One of the other women asked.

"Sorry, I was thinking about something else. Yes I am, I didn't know he had it in him, he showed no interest in sport when we lived in London."

"He seems to be enjoying himself over there, so I guess we'll be seeing more of you this summer."

"I guess so, I enjoyed myself today, I can't say I understand this game, but the company was good, it seemed as if we'd been accepted as 'locals' already."

"You have, and let me warn you, my husband is already sounding him out for the rugby team so it would seem that your Saturdays will be fully booked from here on in. If you think cricket rules are hard to follow, wait till you see a rugby game, I've been watching them for years and I still can't work out if there are any rules, although they do have a referee who blows a whistle and tries to control the mayhem."

They became involved in community activities and Cassandra returned to her sculpting, entering works in local art shows and, not surprisingly, winning many first prizes.

When Felicity began school Cassandra volunteered to teach art to the students. Her offer was accepted and she soon became busy, five days a week, teaching classes in painting and clay modelling, as well as ceramics and china painting.

This activity should have been enough to keep her thoughts from wandering back to Grantley and wondering what had become of him, but it wasn't. She couldn't practice her art without the memory of the time with him intruding into her work and her bronzes became a reflection of her changing mood. Christopher had mentioned to an acquaintance that his wife was a sculptor, and that acquaintance just happened to be a close friend of the owner of a trendy boutique gallery in the city, so an exhibition of her works was planned.

Cassandra spent a week assembling works for display and then travelling into the city to assist in mounting the exhibits for the showing. Anyone who was anyone was invited and attended to enthusiastically 'ooh' and 'aah' over the bronzes on display, and by the end of the first week red stickers signifying that the work had been sold appeared on all of them.

The Times art critic was less than enthusiastic about the work. Although he could not fault the work technically, he was less than complimentary about the, as he put it, 'depressing expressions on the faces of the subjects', and he commented that they would only be suitable for the waiting rooms of psychiatric clinics.

Christopher tried to cheer her up, telling her that the critic was supremely jealous of any artist that could demonstrate anything greater than a rudimentary level of talent, but even he was despairing of lifting her spirits.

Felicity, meanwhile, was blossoming into an artistic talent in her own right, enough so that she was enrolled into Art School as soon as she was old enough. Her time at school was well spent in producing works of considerable merit, but the finer points of the craft were still being learnt from her mother. This tuition time was the happiest for Cassandra, she could see that Felicity was developing into an artist of equal or better talent than herself, and she vowed that nothing should stand in the way of that talent being developed to its full potential. The mistakes her parents made with her would never be repeated.

"We thought we had found him." Gabriel Priestly, Christopher's solicitor said, "We found out that he had been in a psychiatric facility for many years and has only recently been released. It was purely by accident that we were able to locate him. There was something of a scandal involved, it appears as if one of the nurses had been coerced in some way into administering a much stronger dose of his anti-psychotic medication than was deemed necessary, or safe. This had the effect of keeping him in a vegetative state for some ten years. The nurse was charged with administering the drug but before he stood trial he was spirited away and the police have been unable to trace him. There were rumours about who was responsible but there was never enough evidence to charge anyone."

"It was pure coincidence that this was discovered and he has his art ability to thank for that, if he hadn't been allowed out into the grounds and he hadn't seen a bronze bust of the founder of the facility in those grounds and made a soap replica of it, this whole episode probably never would have been discovered.."

"Where he has been taken after that we have been unable to find out, but it seems as if he has made some sort of recovery. He has started working again, although he is working in bronze and not his chosen medium. A piece of his work has shown up in a catalogue of works that are to be auctioned at Christies shortly. I think that you should take a look at it." He took a catalogue from his desk drawer, the appropriate page marked.