A Work of Artifice (Part 1)

During one of my semi-regular meetings at the Mellowdene Examiner, I informed Darcy Fielding that I hadn't yet had any inspiration for the next "Life in Mellowdene" story. He pondered briefly before responding.

"Well, there's no rush. We're on your timetable, and if need be I can fill in again and write something."

"I may take you up on that if my own work continues to distract me. Which would be a shame, since I quite like doing these pieces for you."

"Ah, this would be composing some songs for that musical?. I should have realised that you'd be busy with that. I was going to ask you to do a little paid reporting piece in addition to your story but I won't now. There's an upcoming art event, but I'll give the job to Harry Hawthorne instead."

As I've told Darcy before, I'm not a reporter and have no ambitions in that area. Consequently I was quite happy to leave the work to Harry, who is Darcy's lead reporter after all.

"That's fine, pal," I said and later, as we were leaving the building, I assured him that I would give the blog piece some thought.

"Maybe something will come to me if I ponder a while."

Inspiration came quicker than expected.

o 0 O 0 o

Darcy had been correct about the source of my distraction. An outline of the new musical had arrived in the post, and within this the narrative indicated the places where they would like the songs to be. I had a copy of the epic poem, and I had been attempting to fit a melody to one particular extract. Well, a melody of an appropriate mood, and this wasn't going too well. Consequently I hadn't given much thought to my next "Life in Mellowdene" piece.

Cecile had taken Russell out to Newton's house for a playdate with Nugget, Donna and Dinah - giving me a quiet afternoon until Beverley and Brendan came home from school. And that time had just ran out.

"Da...aa..d!" yelled Brendan from the hallway.

"We have visitors," called Beverley, so I sighed and turned away from the piano.

"In here..." I began, but the visitors were already in the room. They looked like a delegation about to give bad news - apart from the children of course - and comprised Harry Hawthorne, his wife's sister-in-law Hilda Hamilton, Rowan's wife Angelica Ivory and her twins Aster and Figwort. Plus my two offspring.

Hilda Hamilton was Beverley's teacher, and Angelica had also acquired a job at the school, teaching there for four or five months. The odds were that they were here about school-related matters, although I'd no idea why that should require Harry's attendance.

"Hello, Jackson. Sorry to trouble you," Angelica started. Aster rewarded me with a beaming smile, and Figwort gave a hint of a shy wave.

Brendan came forward. "They're here about this art thing," he said, as if that explained everything.

Angelica continued. "I should explain. I've managed to secure a visit from the renowned artist Lucian Frogg and he volunteered to support an art show comprising work from our students.

"As Lucian is quite famous these days, Mister Hawthorne will report on all aspects of the event for the Mellowdene Examiner. My connection is from our travelling days. When we were driving around Sylvania we spent a short time amongst a community of artists, and made some friendships whilst we were there. I kept in touch with a couple of them, and Lucian was happy to renew our relationship."

"We met Andy Warthog too," said Aster, her eyes shining.

Brendan frowned. "Isn't he that weirdy one?"

Hilda put on a mock stern voice with the words, "We don't say that, Brendan," but I noted Harry suppress a chuckle and Figwort give an understated nod.



"It's quite a coup having Mister Frogg come to our village," said Hilda, her voice back to normal.

"I sense a 'but' coming," I commented.

"Very astute," said Angelica, absently watching Figwort who had lost interest in the conversation..

"The problem is Mayor Nettlefield," said Hilda. "He's trying to take things over. He wants to link everything to the next Melting Festival. All the children's paintings would be related to the Snow Queen, and he would have large marquees erected around the village green. He mentioned having multiple music groups attend from all over Sylvania. It would be an enormous event."

"Darcy wouldn't be too keen on the idea," said Harry. "Newspapers would come from all over the country to report on the event."

"And he'd lose his exclusive," I added.

"Right."

"Apart from anything else," said Hilda, "it wouldn't be in the tradition of normal Meltings."

Angelica nodded. "So I understand. Apart from that, Lucian would hate it. He is coming because he wants a quiet little occasion where he can encourage the children with their artwork, and wants to see work from their own imaginations."

There were nods all around and the teachers looked at me with an air of expectancy.

I broke the silence. "What?"

"You were involved in the Melting last year..." said Hilda.

"As a performer. Nothing to do with the organisation," I said, suspecting where the conversation was heading. "Eve Wildwood was more involved, and as Brendan's teacher and your colleague, you should know that."

"Oh no, Jackson," laughed Angelica, "it's not you personally; it's Beverley who thinks she might be able to help with Mayor Nettlefield. We thought that some parental permission would would be in order. With your involvement last year we figured you wouldn't want the traditional nature of the festival to be..."

"Adversely affected," said Hilda.

"Altered from what the villagers expect," said Angelica.

"Totally messed up," said Brendan.

All eyes turned towards my son.

"Just saying," he shrugged.

I regarded Beverley who was smiling affectionately at her brother. "Beverley, what do you think you can do?"

"Well," she said, drawing out the word to gain everyone's attention, "when Orton and I went to see him last year to sort out Orton's wish list, Mister Nettlefield said he was very impressed with us. He said to be sure to come to him if there were any other problems." She beamed. "I think he liked me."

Brendan waved to attract Angelica's attention. "And I climbed a tree."

Angelica smiled across at him. "So I've heard. You were both very good."

"And Orton."

"And Orton too."

I returned my attention to my daughter. "So what do you think you can do to dissuade the mayor from..." - I glanced at Brendan - "...totally messing up?"

"From what everyone's been saying," said Beverley, looking at her teachers, "Mister Nettlefield is a big fan of Lucian Frogg, and that's probably why he wants to make a big thing out of his visit."

"Go on," I said, noting the silent acknowledgment of both Angelica and Hilda.

"So if he knew that Lucian didn't want a big thing, I could say that - if the mayor was prepared to abandon his plans - I could fix it that he would have his own picture painted and presented to him privately."

I thought this unrealistic but had to admire my daughter's confidence. "That seems a touch over hopeful, pudding. What makes you think you can get Mister Frogg to paint the mayor's picture?"

Angelica spoke before Beverley could reply, giving her a wink. "It will be a team effort, won't it, Beverley?"

A wide smile spread over my daughter's face, and Angelica continued, "But, Jack, you should decide if you're happy for her to go ahead."

I had a sneaky feeling that I was missing something, but wasn't sure what questions to ask that would clear that suspicion. From the obvious expectations of Angelica and her entourage I was also aware they wanted a quick answer.

It dawned on me - and I've no idea why it had taken so long - that any wife of Rowan Ivory would need to be a strong-willed woman. Maybe Cecile would have handled things differently, but she wasn't here and perhaps my mind was still partly on my work - so I made a quick decision.

"Fine, Angelica. If you think that Beverley's idea can work, then yes. Go for it."

o 0 O 0 o

It was a few days later. Beverley was using a table in the dining room to give her space for an art project. The subject of the mayor and Lucian Frogg hadn't been mentioned since the school delegation. My curiosity had mounted to the extent that I wouldn't wait any longer.

"Beverley?" I said, "What happened about Mayor Nettlefield and his big plans for the Melting festival? Did you do anything about Lucian Frogg?"

My daughter looked up from her painting. "Hmm? Oh yes, daddy. All went just as we'd hoped. The mayor was nice, and seemed pleased that I was representing my school all by myself."

"Your aunt didn't go with you?"

"She made the appointment, but it was just me doing the deal."

"That was a big responsibility, pudding."

She reached up and gave me a brief hug before summarising her meeting..

"I think I did well, daddy. The mayor was disappointed that Mister Frogg wouldn't want a big do, but he cheered up when I told him that, as compensation, I could personally arrange for him to get a special painting. I made sure that he knew Mrs Ivory was my aunt and that she knew Mister Frogg."

I admit I was impressed and hugely proud of my little girl. I kissed the top of her head. She raised her eyes and smiled.

"I have to get on daddy. I need to finish my painting."

I twisted my head to look at her art. Upon seeing her brushwork I remembered the sneaky feeling I'd had that I was missing something. Beverley's painting looked very much like a portrait of Ramsey Nettlefield.

"Beverley - is that..."

"The mayor? Yes daddy. I promised him that I'd personally arrange for him to get a special painting. This is it."

I stared at her. "Wouldn't Lucian Frogg agree to painting... oh. Nobody asked him, did they?"

"No daddy."

Staring at the painting, the implications washed over me and I thought aloud. "You always intended to be the artist. That was your plan. And... did your aunt Angelica know about this?"

"She thought it was a super idea."

I shook my head in amazement. "But Mayor Nettlefield will be expecting a painting by Lucian Frogg, won't he?"

"I didn't lie, daddy. I was careful what I said so he'll get what I promised. And I'll try and do a good job of his picture."

She looked down at her painting.

I sighed, commenting, "Well, just so you realise that he'll probably think he's been conned. And remember that you said he liked you? It's likely he won't like you quite as much when he finds out."

Beverley and Angelica. What a team. I resolved to have a serious conversation with Cecile about this unsettling precedent. I turned to leave but a quiet voice stopped me.

"You're right. I don't think I should have done it, daddy."

Beverley's eyes were damp. "It was my idea, but I wasn't serious."

"I must admit I am surprised, darling. What possessed you to go ahead with it?"

"Well, the teachers were worried about the Melting being spoiled, and when Aunt Angelica overheard my idea she said it could work."

"Your aunt encouraged you?"

"I know she meant well, daddy, and she said I could make a difference. I wasn't sure but she made it sound exciting. And it was. But now..."

I took her in my arms.

"I know, poppet. And maybe this will help you in future. If you are uncertain about whether something is right or wrong, come and talk to me or your mum."

"I will. I promise." She reluctantly pulled away. "I need to finish this picture, though."

"Of course you do. I'll leave you to do it."

Despite her lapse of judgement, I still had a sense of pride in my daughter. She was growing up.

o 0 O 0 o

A Couple of Couples

When Darcy suggested I write something about couples, my thoughts went towards those two Waters brothers who seem not to have completely grown up – Willie and Wally. If they had moved to Mellowdene earlier in their lives and met up with Rowan... well, the potential for havoc doesn't bear thinking about.

I next considered the identical twins that are currently living with their uncle Howard and aunt Marian – Mitchell and Maxwell Brighteyes. They supposedly enjoy causing confusion by changing places at a whim. Their nicknames Mix and Match were well chosen, and their antics deserve investigation.

But no. Darcy was thinking of romantic couples in relation to Valentine's Day. This is another annual event – like Christmas – that originated outside Mellowdene and the reasons are uncertain but are still enjoyed by the population without question. I'm reminded of the occasion last year when cousin Bobbie was confused by a secret admirer. When there was originally a suggestion that Christian Snow-Warren was involved I was shocked. My friend and co-worker is so happily married it seemed unthinkable. And it was.

Reliving that event led to my solution. Chris and Charity are such a well-matched couple, I thought it appropriate that I write something about them.

I’ve known Chris for years. I went to school with his brother Clarence and we went to play at each other’s houses – much as our sons Brendan and Lucky do now. Chris is a couple of years younger than his brother, but he used to join in with our games. Even at that age we got on really well, and still do.

o 0 O 0 o

Cecile and I were sharing a friendly afternoon at Chris and Charity’s house and the conversation came around to how they both met.

“Oh, when we started school we were put into the same class,” said Charity. “so I can’t really remember a time when we didn’t know each other.”

“So how did you get 'together' together?” asked Cecile, miming quotation marks in the air.

“Comics,” said Chris.

“That’s right,” Charity smiled. “Chris liked to write little stories, and I enjoyed drawing and producing pen and wash pictures. One of our teachers put us together for a school project. A particularly boring subject.”

“We got a gold star, I remember,” said Chris.

“I’d forgotten that,” nodded Charity, “but the point was we both thought the project boring so we tried to make it interesting by interpreting the requirements unconventionally. We produced a comic.”

“We did. And enjoyed working together.” Chris pulled a funny face at Charity, joking, “The beginning of a beautiful friendship!”

“Idiot. But true. So much so that we started to meet up after school at his place to spend half an hour or so working on our own comics .”

“That’s lovely,” said Cecile, “and love bloomed.”

“Not really,” Charity said, looking mischievously at Chris. “It was completely innocent. Platonic. We simply became good friends.”

I chipped in. “So when did you get romantically involved?”

“Hmm,” mused Charity. “I suppose it started with Clary and his admirers.”

I cast back my memory to my own schooldays and Clarence. He was quite a handsome young rabbit and was of an age when good looking rabbits drew attention from others. Whilst we weren’t particularly interested in relationships at that time, some of the girls had developed a more mature outlook. Clarence was the object of desire of four or five bunnies, and I remember him remarking at the time how “they’re always in the way. I can’t get on with anything serious with their round eyes following me everywhere. And they’re always talking about trivial things.”

Maybe it was a little unfair, but Clarence found their attention irritating and avoided any extra school activities. Instead, he would grab my arm and we’d go and enjoy our hobbies at his house.

In one corner of the room, working at a small table, Charity and Chris would be working on their latest comics. Their work had gained a small number of fans.

It was one such day when someone else came to join the fun. A white doe rabbit called Lettuce Leaf attended Charity’s art class and she said she wanted to understand the creative process behind producing the comic.

She was pretty and a little flirtatious , and she would listen with rapt attention when Chris explained some of his ideas. Charity would watch, a slight smile upon her lips, when Lettie would react – maybe overreact – with enthusiasm.

When Lettie wondered if some characters would be interesting if they spoke in rhyme, Chris pounced on the idea.

Clarence would watch whenever Lettie laughed with her bell-like voice.

It was interesting to watch all the reactions from my friends. Charity clearly shared my views, and the amusement on her face was plain to see.

“Chris was enamoured,” said Charity.

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh, you were,” laughed Charity. “You would wallow in her complements. And you can’t have forgotten what you eventually asked me.”

Chris remembered, his face showing a touch of embarrassment as Charity continued.

“'Do you think she’s got a thing for me?' you said. And you were serious. It was hard to burst your bubble.”

“Okay, I remember. You were quite tactful, I guess. Finding out that Lettuce was there to try and make Clary jealous - or at least notice her. Thinking about it, it was obvious but a bit of a blow.”

“It was hard to see your little face crumple.”

“It didn’t.”

“It did. I think that’s the moment I realised I really cared for you.”

“And you were so sweet. I didn’t realise it then, but it soon became clear that you were much more than a friendly writing companion.”

Cecile sniffed. “Aw, that’s lovely.”

I stared at Chris. “So Lettuce is the reason you started writing poetry?”

Cecile and Charity turned towards me.

 “Jackson,” tutted Cecile, “THAT’S what you take away from this?” She shook her head. “Men.”

o 0 O 0 o

Despite Cecile’s reaction, Chris later confirmed that was probably a factor in his move towards lyric writing.

Lettuce’s plan worked too. Clarence had started to notice her in a positive manner. Neither thought it would eventually lead to their wedding. And Lettie is probably still unaware how her youthful actions inadvertently brought my best friend and his future wife closer together.

o 0 O 0 o