Art in Reality Ch. 01: A New Beginning

It was a damn sexy thought.

Though he also noticed the apprehensive expression she wore on her otherwise flawless face. He sharply told himself to behave and concentrate on making her feel at ease.

Alex picked up the two plates from the counter and turned to face her.

'Carbonara?' he asked as he held up the two dishes.

'It smells great,' she commented.

'Please sit,' he gestured towards the table in the middle of the kitchen and then stepped over to place the two plates on opposite sides.

'Thank you,' she said as she crossed to the far side and sat down.

Alex then pottered about setting the rest of the table. He laid out a fork and spoon for each of them, and cotton napkins; and then a wine glass and a tumbler each. He then filled a glass jug with water from the tap and placed it in the middle of the table; and finally, uncorked a bottle of white wine that he pulled from the fridge.

She watched him from her seat at the table. She liked the way he moved; he was calm and unassuming.

'Chardonnay?' he offered the bottle towards her glass.

'No, thank you. Driving. But could I have some water please?'

'Oh of course.'

He put the bottle down, and filled her tumbler from the jug, then filled his own.

'Do have some though,' she gestured towards the bottle, 'it looks good, and you should have white wine with carbonara.'

He smiled and then poured a very modest measure of the wine into his glass.

'Please, start,' he said.

She twisted a strand of creamy spaghetti onto her fork and stabbed a chunk of bacon. After softly blowing away some steam, she popped the food into her mouth.

'Mmm,' she hummed as she chewed and swallowed. 'That's great.'

He beamed a broad and genuine smile.

'I thought I'd go for a trusted old faithful. And it's quick too.'

'It's really good,' she said as she set about twisting up another forkful.

As minutes passed, the satisfying food filled her stomach and warmed her further. The peaceful quiet made her feel increasingly at ease. She quite liked that this mystery man was comfortable eating with her in silence. He clearly was not trying to chat her up, nor ply her with alcohol as she had feared initially.

Ironically, as the silence progressed Alex was becoming increasingly worried about what to say to try to strike up a conversation. Every second that passed made him more and more tongue tied, so he had to stifle a sigh of relief when she spoke first.

'Could I have a drop of wine actually, please? I'll be fine driving with just a little bit and this wonderful pasta really does call for it.'

'Oh course,' he replied, picking up the bottle, 'say when.'

He stopped pouring promptly when she indicated, having filled the glass only about a quarter full.

Once he had set the bottle down, he asked, 'what were you painting?'

'Sorry?' she frowned.

'Sorry, you mentioned in the car that it was nice earlier, when you were painting.'

'Oh, yes. I was painting the view from Stonecross Point. The view over the cliffs is extraordinary from there.'

'Oh, yes, it is beautiful.'

'Yes, everywhere you look in Cornwall. As Ansel Adams said of Yosemite, you could set a camera on a timer, throw it up in the air, and it would land with a good picture in it.'

He chuckled, and she sipped a mouthful of wine.

'Is painting a hobby?' he asked.

'No, my job actually.'

'Oh, you're an artist then?'

'Ah well,' she laughed, 'I'm a painter. Using the title "artist" always feels like it carries so much weight. And the perennial "what is art" question.'

'Uh huh,' he nodded.

'I think referring to yourself as an artist is always a bit squeaky unless you're either toweringly arrogant, or truly one of the greats. What do you do?'

'I'm a writer.'

'Oh, so you're an artist,' she said with a sly grin.

'Ha. No,' he responded.

'What do you write?'

'Textbooks.'

'Oh right.'

'You see. Definitely not an artist.'

'Well, what is art?'

He grinned. 'I'm not going down that rabbit hole. Especially not in conversation with an artist.' He raised his eyebrows, indicating her way.

'Are you on holiday down here?' he added. 'Your accent is definitely not west country.'

'Not west country, but west London. Sort of on holiday. But also sort of working. Looking for inspiration for a project. The sort of holiday I can claim back the tax on!'

'Very good.'

'You're not from down here either. Where are you from?'

'Home counties boy. Originally grew up in Surrey and then moved to Hertfordshire, when, I must have been about ten.'

'What sort of textbooks do you write?' she asked.

'Erm, all sorts. I've done a few history, two science, and some humanities. Quite a mix.'

'You must be very clever then,' she said deliberately coyly, warming to the conversation and his easy-going manner.

'Not at all,' he said, genuinely self-effacing. 'I buy and read a lot of books by people who really know what they're talking about, and then I try to distil the key ideas down to their purest concepts, and try to write these in a way that kids have a chance of understanding. So most of my stuff is brief, simply an introduction to a subject really.'

'Well that sounds like quite a skill to me.'

He looked down at his plate with modesty and fractionally shrugged his shoulders.

'I read a book of that style, a year ago or so,' she added. 'I wanted an introduction to philosophy that even an idiot like me would understand.'

'Oh? What made you want to approach that subject?'

'I had an idea that it might improve my work somehow; give me something more to think about. It was quite a good book actually.'

'Do you remember the title?'

'Err, a philosophical look, or something.'

'A philosophical outlook?'

'Yes, that was it. You've read it?'

'You're winding me up?'

'No, what do you mean?'

'I wrote it.'

'No! You're kidding?'

'No. That was one of my earlier books as it happens. It gave me a good break in the business actually. I got several more contracts off the back of it.'

'Well, it was good. I went into the book shop and asked for the best introduction to philosophy they had and that's what they recommended.'

'Now, well, that's over selling it. There are better books. I know, I read them for inspiration. Much more thorough.'

'Maybe more in depth, but that's just a question of your target audience's prior knowledge. It was the way you explained concepts that I liked, and the examples you gave to illustrate your points were perfect.'

'Well. Erm,' he floundered.

'Oh shit,' she exclaimed quietly, followed immediately by, 'sorry, excuse my French.'

'What?' he asked.

'I'm ashamed to say, I can't remember the author's name.'

'Oh god, I'm sorry,' he responded, 'here we are having practically finished eating dinner and I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Alex. Alex Gainsford.'

'Katherine Connell,' she stated, and held her arm straight out across the table towards him.

'Very pleased to meet you Katherine,' he said as he took her hand.

Katherine enjoyed the contact, and did not hurry to let go of Alex's hand. She was growing to like this charming, handsome man. She was accustomed to men who shamelessly bragged about their prowess, in whatever field they happened to be discussing, trying to impress her. Alex's unassuming modesty that was one of his most attractive qualities, she thought, and decided to play just a little.

'Very pleased to meet you too Alex,' she responded, and lowered her chin a little as she briefly fluttered her eyelashes.

She slid her hand out of his, only when she concluded she really could not find any excuse to hang onto it for any longer.

'What else have you written that I might have read then?'

He laughed.

'Oh I don't know.'

'Any books on art?' Katherine enquired.

'Only one actually. I did one on the life and work of Arnold Newman. Financially a complete waste of time of course. There's nothing remotely like enough demand for school level texts on Newman. But I greatly enjoyed researching it. I love his work.'

'I did wonder, did I spot a Newman on the wall, in your, is it the living room?' she gestured out of the kitchen door.

'It is yes. Well spotted. Not an original of course. I do have one original print from him, signed and authenticated. Cost me a small fortune, but I love it. Not one of his more famous ones, but it's still a beauty to me. The others that are up are scans and printed with inkjet. Or giclee as the sellers like to call it.'

'Yes,' she smirked, 'one of my friends says giclee is to inkjet what lingerie is to underwear.'

'That's an apt way to put it,' Alex laughed. 'Though the quality is good. To my uneducated eyes at least.'

'It is. The technology has rocketed on in recent years. I've had some of my paintings scanned and printed "giclee" recently,' she held up two fingers on each hand to project the quotation marks, 'and they came out incredibly well. I couldn't tell the difference between the original and the prints from a reasonable viewing distance. It's texture of course that lets it down.'

'Of course. The thickness and brush pattern of the paint at different points you mean?'

'Exactly.'

'Unlike a photograph.'

'Yep.'

The conversation reached a happy lull for a few moments.

Both of them finished the last remains of their meals.

'I wonder if you'd like,' Alex gestured vaguely over his shoulder, 'I have some particularly good ice cream that I think would follow the carbonara well. Would you like some?'

'Ooh, yes, please,' Katherine replied.

'Pistachio?'

'Oh god yes please.'

'Good,' he smiled, 'would you like to go into the living room? I lit the fire earlier. If you sit on the sofa, it's in front of the fireplace, it'll counterbalance the cold of the ice cream.'

'Okay.'

'I'll tidy up in here,' he circled has hands over their empty plates, 'and I'll come through in a few minutes.'

'Can I help, I can wash up?'

'No, no, my guest, relax,' he waved her towards the door.

Katherine flashed one last warm smile as she stood and wandered out of the kitchen, through the hallway and into the living room.

*****

There was a strong fire crackling and popping in the large, open fireplace. The rest of the light in the room came from a number of table lamps and standing lamps that were scattered around. The combination created a lovely warm, soft glow that beautifully illuminated the interesting space. It was quite large and was somewhat of an open plan, multi-use layout. There was a very big, long sofa in front of the fireplace, and an armchair to each side. There was a dining table and chairs in another area, and a large writing desk, with a few office things in another. One full wall, unlike the exposed brick-work on the other three, was formed entirely of floor to ceiling windows. Katherine could see no further outside than the rain, emerging from the darkness to beat against the glass. Facing out the windows were a couple more chairs with a low table between them. The most prominent feature of the room, along with a few more nice pieces of furniture, were the bookshelves. At least a dozen, of assorted sizes, filled with what must have totalled several thousand books.

Katherine slowly meandered around the room, taking in little details. She could hear occasional clinks and clatters of tidying and washing up coming from the kitchen, against a background of the muffled roar of rain and wind from outside. The storm certainly had not let up since they had come inside. If anything it sounded worse

'Katherine,' Alex called from the kitchen.

'Katie,' she called back.

'How much ice cream would you like?' came the question after a momentary pause.

'Oh, I don't know.'

'Two scoops?'

'Yes please.'

A minute or so later Alex came into the room with a bowl in each hand.

'My friends call me Katie; or Kat or Kate,' she explained.

'Katie,' Alex said with a slight bow, as he offered one of the bowels out towards her.

She took it and peered in at the delicious looking contents. Pale green, smooth and silky looking ice cream. It smelled good too.

'Sofa?' Alex asked.

'Yep.'

Katie circled around and sat down on the sofa. Alex joined her, at a comfortable, respectable distance towards the other end. He watched her take the first spoonful of ice cream and slide it into her mouth. He wanted to see her reaction.

It did not disappoint.

Her face contorted with pleasure.

'Oh my god that's good,' she burst out as soon as she had swallowed.

'It is isn't it,' he grinned.

She immediately dived in for another spoonful, before asking, 'were do you get it from?'

'Ah, well,' he replied without thinking, 'I can't tell you that. I've got to have some method to coax you back here.'

He instantly froze with concern. Had that been too much?

'Someday, maybe,' he added lamely.

He cast his eyes down to his own bowel and made busy with his ice cream.

He missed the glint of a smile that was Katie's response.

The two of them sat eating their ice cream in silence, looking into the fire. Katie continued to make appreciative hums and murmurs, such that Alex concluded she cannot have been too horrified by his forwardness.

'If I weren't in polite company, I'd be licking the bowl out,' Katie stated, just as she placed her spoon down into the empty china.

Alex laughed out loud.

'Would you like some more?'

'Nope,' she held his gaze, 'I mustn't eat it all now. I've got to have some reason to come back, someday.'

She then broke into the most dazzlingly beautiful smile Alex felt he had ever seen.

He was absolutely lost for words.

So cute, Katie thought. That was more than firelight, she decided; that was a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

'Are you writing a new book about Brunel?' she threw him a lifeline to re-start conversation.

'Err, yes,' Alex recovered his senses.

'I noticed the books on your desk.'

'I see,' he began to relax again, 'I haven't started writing actually. I'm just coming to the end of the initial research.'

'Oh right. And then how do you start, just, at the beginning and work your way through?'

'No, I don't write like that. I do a book plan, which looks sort of like a contents page I suppose, and then I start writing bits and pieces for different parts of the book. And it sorts of expands from there. I don't write sequentially, I hop about.'

'So you sort of write the whole book all at once?'

'Kind of. I don't know if that's how it's supposed to be done. I have no training in writing. It's just how I do it.'

'Sounds like it works for you.'

'I've done the book plan for this one. Would you like to take a look?' he asked dubiously, trying to gauge whether she had genuine interest or was just being polite.

'Yes please,' she responded promptly.

'I'll get it,' he said as he stood up.

He walked over to the desk, picked up a pad of paper, and returned to his place on the sofa.

Katherine shuffled along the sofa a bit closer to him so that she could better see the paper, as he began to explain it's contents.

The conversation flowed naturally. Katherine was genuinely interested and Alex relaxed into telling her about Isambard Kingdom Brunel and his writing process more generally.

Time slipped past as the two chatted easily and enjoyed each others company.

*****

The pair reached a natural lull in the conversation and found themselves both sat watching the fire for a few moments.

Eventually, Alex murmured, 'fire is beautiful isn't it. I never tire of watching.'

'Hmmm,' Katie hummed.

A few seconds later she added, 'and hot, actually.'

She tugged at the top of the dressing gown she was wearing. Pulling on the two folds that covered her chest, she tugged them looser from the tightly bound cord around her waist and spreading them open.

Alex could not resist momentarily flicking his gaze down to her chest. His earlier musing about what his guest had on beneath the gown, if anything at all, shot back to his consciousness. He quickly registered her wearing the shirt that he had left for her, outside the bathroom, and mentally kicked himself for the impossible hope that she would reveal herself to be naked beneath.

'I hadn't noticed how warm I'm getting,' Katie added, by way of explanation, 'thank you for letting me borrow your dressing gown, it's lovely and soft; and very warm!'

'You're welcome,' he replied. 'Can I get you anything else to drink?'

'No I'm okay thank you.'

They both returned their gaze to the fire.

'What's the hardest book you've written?' Katie turned back to looking at Alex.

'Err, ah. Well,' he left his response hanging.

'What?' Katie smiled with curiosity.

'Well, a few years ago, my agent asked me to write a book about sex. There was a gap in the market, apparently.'

'And did you, fill the gap?' she asked, whilst failing to conceal a cheeky grin.

'Yes,' he smiled and rolled his eyes at the innuendo.

'Sorry, I couldn't resist.'

'It was hard.'

'Was it?' Katie questioned archly, and flicked her eyes momentarily down to Alex's groin and back up.

'Now, stop it you,' he playfully chastised her.

'Sorry,' she giggled, 'sorry.'

She theatrically cleared her throat and put on a serious expression.

'Did you do a lot of, research?' she pouted her lips and fluttered her eyelashes.

Alex burst out laughing. She could not maintain the look for long, before she also returned to giggles.

'Yes I did,' he replied between shudders of laughter, 'I read a lot of serious texts. Very serious. About anatomy. And statistics.'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' she said, and placed her hand on top of his by way of apology.

'It was actually an interesting project,' he continued after their shared laughter had subsided. 'and very tricky, but I learnt a lot.'

'Really?' she enquired.

'Yes. I mean I suppose everyone learns about sex in different ways. There was no sex education when I was at school; or not at my school anyway. And it's quite hard to know how to pitch the subject for an eleven to thirteen year old reader.'

'Oh wow,' Katie interrupted, 'I hadn't thought of it like that, but of course, you're writing for a young age.'

'Yes, and you've got to avoid any form of controversy. Which given the subject matter, is not easy.'

'Yes indeed. So, was the book a biology book, or?' Katie could not think how to summarise the kind of subject she was thinking of.

'Relationships?' Alex offered.

'Yes, that's what I meant.'

'It's main focus was interpersonal relationships, giving a range of societal views on sex, but it also included the basics of biology. And with a heavy focus on contraception and STIs of course.'

'STIs?'

'Sexually transmitted infections.'

'Oh right.' Katie nodded. 'It was STDs, for diseases, when I was at school.'

'Yeah, that's fallen out of favour now.'

'I think, I remember doing a single lesson on sex education. It was mostly useless. Not enough, real world. My strongest recollection is the cucumbers.'

'Cucumbers?'

'Yes, everyone learned how to put a condom on. Onto a cucumber,' Katie smirked.

'Bloody hell. Cucumbers? Talk about setting a high expectation of,' Alex left the sentence hanging.

'The size of penises,' Katie completed it and laughed.

'Indeed!'

'Yeah, the boys did look a bit worried at the time,' Katie feigned reminiscence.

'I'm not surprised. Now there's a whole generation of young men given a life-long complex about their physical proportions.'

'Are you, not then?' Katie enquired with a glint in her eye.

'No, and I have no problem stating, I do not have the proportions of a cucumber. And neither are the colossal majority of men anywhere near that size. I know. I've seen the research.'

Katie arched an eyebrow questioningly.

'Yes. There was a huge study. In the 70s if I recall correctly.' Alex explained. 'Thousands and thousands of men, of all ages and ethnicities, were measured, not self reported, actually measured by the researchers to ensure accuracy. Both relaxed and erect. And a table was produced showing the full range of sizes and the average number of men within each defined range. From this data, we can be assured that putting condoms on cucumbers does not give a realistic expectation of typical size.'