Read Dwarg in the Seventh Dimension : The Aggie Kellor Experience Page 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – MEGAN’S PAINTING
“Megan that’s just plain strange, how could you possibly go off and be employed by a ten year old – oh beg your pardon; have a ten year old as your boss. I’ve been trying for years to get you into the firm and pay you whatever you want. Is Darren the problem? Is it me?”
“Pop, we’ve been through all this before. You know I love and care for you – if I didn’t, I would have moved away by now. It’s just that legal things and courts and writs and criminals and people in trouble, and the greedy bargaining and the contracts, all make my skin crawl – I find it so depressing. The job at the bookstore is simple and I like it, but that vacation to Europe showed me that there is more to life than selling books, or even sitting in an attorney’s office. I think this offer from the UO will give me the chance to do what I dream of – to get out and discover my world. If it means playing nursemaid to Aggie, that’s a bonus – she’s a clever girl and knows where she’s going.”
“I really missed you on Christmas Day Megan. The house was empty, Darren was sharing his Christmas cheer with a cheer leader and I was called to spend most of my time as a “volunteer” public defendant for the County Court. Still at least I had the tree and the Nana Mouskouri Christmas Carol CD to listen to later, and to sample a little from the huge bottle of Chivars Regal you left under the tree for me.”
“It snowed in Putney on Christmas Eve. Edna had their Christmas tree up, a real one from her back yard. We all decorated it with things we made ourselves – no plastic or metal foil – things from nature like pinecones, flowers, stringy vine, fern fronds, daisy-chains and bird feathers. We went for a stroll and Aggie showed us her little place of reflection – absolutely beautiful. We picked up things along the way that we could use as decorations. Even though they’re not Christians, they still celebrate Christmas – to them it’s a celebration of peace and goodwill – instead of gifts, they give blessings and wishes and remember their ancestors. Oh and Aggie has two young dogs, they look like Huskies – and they love me, we played for hours in the snow.”
“So will you be moving out Megan?”
“This will always be my home Pop, I may have to do a lot of travelling with this job, but this is where I want to come back to – if that’s all right with you.”
“Come here and give me a big hug, you beautiful daughter. Your mother wouldn’t have it any other way.”
-oOo-
“Monsieur Orrslet, would you also take this with you – I feel it’s not appropriate under the circumstances”, said a weary Rachel. It was an unframed canvas painting which Vincent had given her late last year.
“Oui madame, as you wish, I will dispose of it” said Claude. More rubbish to clog my basement, he thought.
When Claude returned to his parlour, LeGundy, the photographer was waiting for him. He proudly held up Claude’s portrait photograph which had just been developed - Claude was very pleased with it – “Merveilleux, I have just the right frame for it.” He was happy to pay the five francs for the photograph and giggled to himself as he knew exactly where LeGundy would spend it. That five francs would find its way back to Rachel.
Later, in the basement, he found the frame and was pleased to see that the glass was still intact. He placed the photograph face down on the sheet of glass, found that there was an awkward space between it and the backing sheet of thin wood – ah this canvas will fill the void exactly. He then gently nailed the picture together and hooked it onto the wall behind the reception desk. Anyone entering the parlour would assuredly be struck by the magnificence of this portrait - Monsieur Claude Orrslet – a true Directeur de Services Funeraires.
-oOo-
“You know Megan, of all the prints of the Van Goghs you have around the place, this one seems somehow different – it’s the only one I really like.” It was a casual remark from Steve, but it made Megan smile.
“Yes, it’s one of his works that not many people know about, Pop.”
Megan sat down at the shiny black Steinway piano and began playing Beethoven's Sonata Pathétique, Steve’s favourite. He sipped his Chivas and was contented.
Under the old photograph of Claude Orrslet, Megan had found Vincent’s canvas. She didn’t mind paying for an expensive and lavish frame and it was certainly suitable. Technically, a lot of people had seen the subject of this work, but in a somewhat smaller context.
On this painting, Vincent had created a scene of two lovers walking arm in arm on the sandbank of a river. Over their shoulders, he had painted the night brightly, and soft starlight reflected onto their faces. Megan knew at once (even though the scribble on the back confirmed it) that this was a painting of Vincent himself with Rachel. Their expressions were wonderfully captured. Rachel’s face was not pretty; Megan could see a reluctant yet willing soul, tolerating her arm being held by a man not particularly to her liking. The man was obviously Vincent. His red and scruffy hair could be seen under the fisherman’s cap and he strode with the arrogance of a victor – perhaps a jailer with his prisoner. Vincent was honest in this metaphoric representation – yet Rachel absolutely hated the painting – she was glad to get rid of it as well as his severed lower ear.
Megan was quite the opposite. She would enjoy it every time she walked into the room. This was her very special secret, no one in the world, not even Steve, Edna or Aggie knew exactly what the painting was. The only thing Megan could not figure out was Aggie’s cryptic message as she passed the well wrapped picture to her...“Megan, this is really a gift to you from Slig. I can, and may say, no more.”