PORTRAIT OF A LADY

 

                                                                       Chapter Twelve

                                                                          Alone Again

 

The news of the baby had affected Steve in a way he might not have anticipated. For one thing it energised him into a surge of artistic endeavour. At the same time, while he was delighted at the unexpected news it brought back many thoughts about his own childhood. Broken and disjointed thoughts, thoughts that were struggling to be memories, but which mostly remained unformed and frustrating. Nevertheless the prospect of becoming a father far outweighed the bad thoughts trying to break through, which Steve did his best to dismiss.

          Inspired by the impending birth Steve found a new artistic vein running throughout the farm and its surrounds. Everywhere he looked there were signs of new life. It was spring now, and although his child would not be born until the end of the year, he was inspired to capture everything he could which depicted new life. It was a busy time for Steve and for Jessie who was preparing for her first child in a somewhat different way.

          Now Steve had a new love to replace the old one and the next period of his life was ecstatic. Not only did he have the animals o look after; but now there was something else. The animals were mostly in existence because of Steve's attention to their natural cycle, making sure that males of the species were in attendance as and when required, but that when the time to give birth arrived he was there to give whatever help was needed. Long before Farrah had died Steve had shared the responsibility for this aspect of farming, and of course ultimately he had assumed complete responsibility. Now his various flocks were nearly all descended from his early efforts, and more recently by new additions to improve the breeds. But a new presence had come into his life when Jessica presented him with a son. This was different, for in this he had not merely arranged for the two sexes to mate for nothing more that commercial reasons. This time the new life which had emerged from the body of his wife was the direct result of his own life force. The essence of his very being had been the catalyst for the child that had now become part of his life.

          Not for a moment did he dismiss the even greater part his wife had played in this new creation, but Steve could not help himself. Most of his life he had been on the outside looking in. Family had meant nothing to him, and indeed he had consciously or subconsciously avoided becominging involved in a family way of life. The detention centre of his early teens was all he knew about family, and whatever the rights and wrongs of that establishment, and despite a certain feeling of belonging which had developed, it had failed to ignite in him any desire to explore further what was beyond those imaginary boundaries, or to discover what might be just out of sight in what to him had seemed like an alien world.

          But Jessie had come into his life, followed by his new son Stuart, and everything had changed. He was a father, and the child suckling at his wife's breast was his child. At long last words which had previously been without meaning to him had come alive. Father ; mother; child; husband; wife; family. Now the very thought of these words brought tears to his eyes. Family!

          Gradually a new order was established and Steve's resolve to be all things to all men became ever firmer. Despite the heavy demands the farm prospered as never before, and somehow Steve found the time to develop his painting skills to levels he had not previously reached. His fascination with the darker side of nature was still as strong as before, but now he found inspiration in ways and places he had previously overlooked. New birth and new life in all its forms took on a new meaning and Steve was able to convey his these wonderful events on canvas, just as powerfully as before when he had been able to depict death and decay. "The other side of the coin." he mused, remembering one of phrases Farrah's often used.

          Not only that but his wife and son had proved to be excellent models. Steve continued to be inspired by his family in and out of the house and Jessie continued to be the conduit for his vision, perfectly happy to sit for her husband, dressed or otherwise to be captured in all her beautiful natural state.. And as one painting followed another Stewart’s images perfectly reflected the passing years. Those early years with Jessica and his son were the happiest years in his life.

          "Too happy for it to last." he had once said jokingly. But that joke had been prophetic and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

          The Idyllic lifestyle that Steve and Jessie enjoyed continued into the next decade, Steve looking after the animals and the general running of the farm, while Jessie looked after the house and her two men. It was hard for them both, for each had responsibilities beyond the norm for your everyday married couple. beside her duties as a housewife and mother Jessie became more and more occupied with the farm. Steve was just as busy there too, but as the demand for his paintings grew so more time was needed to produce them. He was glad therefore that Jessie was willing to take some of the strain for in his commitment to his expanding reputation, painting was essentially becoming a full time job.

          "We can't go on like this." Jessie had once complained.

          "Be patient my love." Steve had replied. "Paul tells me that the demand for my work has nearly reached the tipping point. You've seen for yourself how much more I am getting already; ten times more than when I started."

          "I know that Steve, " Jessie answered, "and the money is very handy but I don't see much of you these days."

          "It's not about money, it's about my standing as an artist." Steve’s response was a touch prickly.

          "I know that too, and I am pleased for you. Really I am, but we seem to be losing the life we used to live."

          "I thought that I was establishing a better life."

          "Perhaps you are; for the future; but not for now."

          "But are we not content with our way of life here in the country."

          Jessie laughed. "In the country you say. A quarter of a mile in any direction and you're in a housing estate."

          "Yes I know, it does seem strange, but we hardly see the houses and it seems like the country."

          It was one of a number of conversations along those lines which somehow never boiled over, never reached crises point, but which were never quite resolved. Steve's promise that one day, soon he hoped, buyers would come from far and wide to see his work might be enough and satisfy Jessie misgivings.

          "Not just to look but to buy them." he had emphasised. "Paul tells me that he is looking for a minimum of a thousand pounds for my paintings, and before long it will be much more. Maybe then I won't have to paint so many."

          "That will be nice. Maybe I'll see a bit more of you then."

          It was an uneasy truce, and over time Stuart seemed to grow quickly. All too soon from being a healthy baby through being a healthy toddler to being a healthy growing little boy. Despite the sometime opposing demands of their lifestyle, Steve and Jessie continued to do what comes naturally to provide him with a brother or sister. That they had failed so far to accomplish that seemingly ordinary task was a great disappointment to them. After all they had managed to produce Stuart without any difficulty or intervention, so why not a sibling?

          'Just a matter of time' they both thought as they got on with their busy lives, unaware that perhaps it was the tensions and strain brought about by their busy lives  and their conflicting priorities that was preventing nature taking its course.

          And so the months and the years came and went and life on the farm continued. In many respects it continued unchanged, but in others the changes were profound. Long before Steve had made good the decay and poor maintenance that time and Old Man Farrah's inability, had bestowed upon the farm, so much less was needed to keep the farm in good order. And, as had been predicted, his popularity had spread beyond the confines of these islands. People were indeed coming from far and wide and when a deal was struck to carry off one of his paintings, vast amounts of money changed hands, and true to his promise his output reduced greatly by comparison. Quality rather than quantity was now his yardstick. But his absorption with his painting had blinded him to what else was going on at the farm. But something else was happening for which Steve was quite unprepared.

          Fame.

          More and more he was invited to appear at functions. Sometimes to demonstrate his technique, or to talk about his work. More and more he was invited to make judgement on the work of others. More and more these duties took him further away, and with increasing regularity required an overnight stay. All the while Jessie was filling for his absences, and despite his promises the higher prices that his paintings were fetching did not equate with more time at the farm with Jessie. Just the opposite, and worse still, neither of them had time or inclination to engage in that which had brought them together in the first place. There love for each other both emotional and physical was draining away. The bedroom had become a place to sleep and hopes of a sibling for Stewart had been virtually abandoned.

          Such was the power of his new found celebrity that Steve was bind to what was happening, and deaf to his wife’s complaints.

          A heady mix of fame and influence had turned his head and he seamed unable to see the difference between what was real and solid, and what was transitory. In short he forgot all the values he inherited from William Farrah, his dedication to his animals, and the wondrous revelation he had found in being at last, 'a family'.

          It all came crashing down on him when late one morning he returned from a trip to London where he had established a growing reputation. His exhilaration at his fame 'down south' filling his brain was swept away when he found the house empty  and Jessica and Stewart gone and only a brief note of explanation did he find. Steve was stunned, utterly unable to comprehend the implications, and it was a long time before he put the note down staring out of the window and trying understand what he could not understand. It was only the sound of his animals that brought him back to reality.

          "My god!" he shouted out loud and rushed out of the house, not knowing how long his cows and goats had been left unattended. As quick as he could he set out to seeing to their needs, emptying their udders and filling their troughs before seeing to the pigs and horses. Then it was the turn of the chickens and geese, sprinkling seed and collecting eggs before he started mucking out and hosing down. For a few hours the needs of the farm and its livestock were uppermost in his mind and he was free from all other thoughts. In a matter of a few hours he had done what would normally take all of the morning from his early start to the mid day break. Only then did his mind return to considerations of his plight.