The Right Choice
Lily, sweetheart, you do know this isnt serious, dont you? Aunt Nina tapped the sketch-filled folders on the table with her manicured nail, her voice gentle but firm.
Her old friend, Lilys mum, Mary Josephine, had asked Nina to have a heart-to-heart with her daughter. She doesnt care what her own family thinks, shed sighed over her morning tea in Ninas office. She ignores me, gives her father a quick cuddle when he lectures her about a proper job, and hes putty in her hands after that. Its hopeless.
Marys complaint continued as she tried to light-heartedly butter another scone: Shes forever running around with those wooden boards, paints and brushes like some house painter! Its all nonsense, Nina! Maybe as a hobby, I could just about see it, but as a career? Absolute disaster!
Mary rolled her eyes as Nina popped another chocolate from the box her colleagues had gifted her. Both women, along with Lilys father, Victor, worked at St. Michaels Hospital. Being a doctor was a respectable, prestigious professioneveryone relied on them, greeted them. Doctors were always needed, always central. What they really wanted was for Lily to continue the family tradition. But
Shes completely uncontrollable now! Dashes off after school, who knows where, never goes to her prep courses, comes home smelling of cheap ham and, honestly, turpentineand then those dreadful drawings! I cant stand them, Nina! Cant stand them! So lurid and garish, and those chopped lines. Lily calls it realism mixed with abstraction, but to me, its the start of madness. Nina, be a dear, talk to her! She listens to you. Help me! Mary checked her delicate gold bracelet-watch and gaspedit was ten past nine, their shifts had started!
She hurried out, her heels clacking on the old tiles and doors swinging behind her.
That evening, as the two friends folded their arms, they watched Lily place another sketch folder on the table, singing softly to herself while tying a green ribbon in her hair.
Lily, love, you really need to think about things! Its one thing to have a little rest and a giggle, but now is the time to prepare for your exams, and to apply! Aunt Nina gestured expressively, silver rings gleaming on her fingers.
Apply where? Lily asked, smoothing her hair, peering over her sketches. She really was just playing around.
Well, medical school, of course! Is there any question? Well help you, get you all brushed up, call in a few favours, youll walk straight in, first round! All you need to do is sit down with your textbooks, study hard. Lily, come to your senses, please!
Ninas hand swept airily, accidentally knocking a pile of watercolours from the shelfpapers fluttered down like autumn leaves.
Lily knelt awkwardly to gather them.
Heavens, Lily! What is this? Aunt Nina pointed at a sketch of a nearly nude man. Honestly! Get rid of it, right now! Mary! Did you see this?
Mary intercepted the paper before Lily could grab it back, marching off to the kitchen, where she was quickly pan-frying fishcakesnever enough time to do anything properly these days.
Nina, raising her eyebrows, held out the offending sketch for Mary to see.
Mary stared, spatula in hand, exasperation giving way to outrage. Well? Why are you looking at me like that, both of you? Lily folded her arms. Its completely normal for artists to practise drawing people, you know. Hes got his underwear on, you just cant see it in the sketch.
Darling, its normal to think about sensible things. About your future, about being our daughter. But gawking at near-naked men in some dodgy studio? Thats just indecent, Lily! I cant take it! Mary flicked the drawing away with her greasy spatula, then remembered her fishcakes and quickly flipped them over, turning down the hob. Oh, what a disgrace!
She said it as if her daughter had ended up on the front page of the Sun for all the wrong reasons.
Mum, for goodness sake! Thats a bit rich coming from a doctor, isnt it? You all study anatomy, too! And anyway, Mum, theres a fundamental difference between usyou dont see the beauty in people or the world. All you see are organs, illnesses, symptoms and swellings. I see actual people, Mum. I want them to look at their own portraits and love themselvessee who they really are. I have no interest in viewing people as mere machines to be fixed. Im applying to the Art Academy, and thats final.
Lily stomped out, before coming back, apologising sheepishly.
Auntie Nina, I could paint you, you know! In a beautiful dress, hair styled, not in a white coat with your hair in a messy bun. Would you like that? She forked a fishcake, popped it onto a saucer, and kissed her grumbling mum on the cheek.
Oh, sweetheart, I dont even own anything youd call a beautiful dress. I never have time for all that. Work just… wont let me go.
Then treat yourself to putting one on! Work will wait, and so will everything else! Lily cheekily shot back, blowing on her burning mouthful.
Lily, dont get cheeky! Off to your room, youve got your prep classes tomorrow and an anatomy test! And dont think I dont know youve been sketching your classmates heads instead of taking notes. Its not on! Mary barked.
I say, sketching heads can be toughI could help with that, Nina piped up.
No, shes literally drawing everyone in her group, Nina. Then giving them away as presents. Distracting everyone. Thats it, Lily. In the spring youre applying. Ill call Kings College. Victors got connections at St. Georges. Youll be accepted, without a doubt. Weve earned it! Were not daft, you know! Marys chin jutted out proudly.
Lily just shook her head, quietly resigned.
Living between two fires was agony: on the one hand, Mary was convinced Lily was born to be a doctor or a surgeonnothing less. On the other, there was Mr. Timothy Ellis, Lilys art club teacherthe one she skipped biology lessons to secretly attend. Timothy said Lily was a true talenta natural. That her gift should absolutely be nurtured. He said she could see not just a face, but the soul of her model. Her portraits eyes, though still raw and a little awkward, were alive. Alivethats the whole point!
Lily, you have to keep going, keep learning. Maybe, one day, even abroad. But for now, the Academys the place. Ill call around, Ill find the right people… Get the basics, build the foundation, and then… well, then comes life. Art. Timothy would gaze through the window, thoughtful.
He himself had never finished the Academyhed got in, but never completed his studies for complicated reasons. He became self-taught, opened a small studio, taught whatever he could, shared all he knew. Timothy never turned anyone away, asked little in the way of payment, and gave his allhe had no family, no one waiting for him. He lived in the back room, gave lessons in what used to be a bright and sunlit drawing room, all paint-spattered and scattered with plastic fruit for practice.
He and Lily first met in the market. Shed been picking over bunches of grapesone batch too bruised, another too pale, another looked shriveled.
If you just need a snack, these ones will suit youdont look like much, but full of sweet juice. If you need… hed said, suddenly appearing at her shoulder, pointing at a bunch.
Shed turned, smiling, but said, These are for a still life, not for snacking, Im painting. It never goes right, but I wanted to make a piece for Mums birthday, so she could hang it in the kitchen.
She said it so casually, as if she expected the stranger to wholly understandand he did.
Shes been scribbling since she was little, Mary said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin as she dished up roast potatoes. Destroyed half the paper in the house. All the other girls wanted dolls and trains and things, but this one just wanted paints and sketchpads. Always, Ill be an artist! I will! And what do artists ever havewhat, a comfortable living? Never! Always feast or famine. And shes far too generousshell give all her work away, never make a penny. Plus its all these naked models, those retreats or whatever… Outrageous! Hippie nonsense! Mary sighed, passing another fishcake to Nina. Eat up. Victors on night shiftwont eat leftovers. Ill make him fresh ones. Come on, tuck in.
Nina ate, exhausted, already longing for bed. But Mary was in the mood for a talk, and nothing was settled with Lily.
After Year Eleven, Victor and Mary enrolled Lily in a medical prep coursebecause in that world, they could help, nudge her along. But Lily barely attended, not even making excuses. Shed just say, calmly, she hadnt been.
Kids these days, no sense of duty! Mary would fume. Nina nodded, lost in thought.
Maybe its for the best, Mary? I was never sure medicine was my calling when I started. But I stuck with it. Thank God, I found a job. But still… I feel a bit like a tradesperson, for all Im deputy head now. I never found that sparknot one bit. You know? Nina glanced up at her friend.
I dont get itwhat spark? Theres nothing to invent, Nina! Everythings been mapped out, just follow the rules! And stop being hard on yourself. Mary brushed it off.
She hadnt invited Nina to ponder professions, but rather to help talk Lily round!
Its hard when the shoe doesnt fit though, Mary. Really hard sometimes. Nina put her fork down. Shed signed up for medical school just to prove she couldchose the hardest institute, the hardest course, crammed Latin into the night. Her parents didnt believe shed manage. Her boyfriend didnt, either.
Dont reach above your station, darling, her mum would say. Come work at the factory, decent pay, youll be sorted!
Her parents would have a couple of G&Ts at night and giggle behind the curtain, while Nina trudged round to her mates to revise.
Shed made itbut at a cost few realised.
Sick patients still frightened her. What if she made a mistake? Self-doubt was always whispering in her ears. Quietly, shed made her way towards administrative work, away from wards. Shed wanted, once, to be a seamstress, maybe a designer and create dresses. But her mother, always so tired in her sewing apron, had looked so worn-out. Nina was terrified of repeating her fate. So, apart from the odd button, shed left sewing behind, got everything altered by professionals instead. Was she happy? Probably. She had money, no free time to get blue, no family lifework filled every corner.
Paintings easy, its all wine and… stuff you know! Mary declared. Oh, come on, Nina! Works fine, the pays fine, weve got a good name. Tea? Yes, Ill put the kettle on. Coffees too late now!
Half an hour later, Nina claimed a headache and went home. Mary did her head inshe could rant for hours about Lilys wrong choices, never once noticing Ninas troubles.
Lily watched Nina leave into the evening, brow furrowed.
Timothy Elliss appearance at their house was, honestly, pure luck.
This is us. Come in, Ill put the kettle on. Its freezing, Lily said cheerily. Here are some slippersplease, really! The floorings freezing and the heatings not come on yet.
Timothy shuffled, embarrassed by his threadbare socks, and quickly took the slippers, hiding his hands in his jacket.
There was a soft fragrance in the airfamiliar, not overpowering, light and airy. Nice.
Lily, maybe I should just go… Timothy started awkwardly.
Oh, dont be silly! Youll have some tea, help me choose sketches for this competition, and thatll be that. I honestly think nothing is any good!
Lily hurried into her bedroom, flicking through sketches and canvases, propping them against the walls.
Not right… not this… oh, Mum called this one rubbish. My mum doesnt approve of painting, you know. Not as a concept, just my art. She wants me to get a proper job, be a doctor like her. Signed me up to courses, but I skip them half the time. Mr. Ellis, please turn the hob offthe kettles boiling!
But Timothy wasnt listening. He stood fiddling with his cuff, gazing up at the family photos on the wall. Black and white, different sizes. There was Lilys mum in her graduation dress, someone had caught her profile, looking almost glamorous. Her dad on some muddy field trip in a windbreaker, big grin. There was Lily at six, gap-toothed and cheeky.
Kettles boiling! Lily called, pausing in the lounge doorway.
I, uh, I think Ill go, Timothy stammered. As for your work… pick what you want. You should choose on your own… Its important.
But Lily didnt understandshed worked hard to get him to help, she needed to win that competition, needed to prove something.
Before Timothy could escape, Mary Josephine came down the hall, frowning at his battered brogues.
She hated drop-in guestsespecially unvetted ones. The house was never quite clean enough, she thought, never quite perfect or sterile, as a doctor’s should be.
Lily? Whos here? she asked, then paused, realising.
Mary, its all a mistake. I wasnt supposed tolook, Ill go. Ill never come again, honestly, please dont worry. I promise Timothy started to back away.
Lily stared, then planted herself in the way.
No ones going anywhere. Mum, take your shoes off and come get your tea. Theres cake in the fridge andlook, Ill warm up dinner. You two are going to talk, like adults. Please, stop making everything so complicated! she scolded, pointing towards the kitchen.
And so, Timothy went. Just as hed always listened to his mother, and later to Mary.
Know what, sometimes I wonder whether Lilys really yours, Mary said quietly as she pulled at the net curtain to stop it flapping. Biologically, of course shes Victors, but in her soul, shes yours. Its funny, isnt it? Shes decided shes going to be some next Turner or Reynolds. Madness! Thats why we broke up, wasnt it?
She looked back. Timothy poured tea.
Theres sugar in the cupboard, sorry, only granulated.
He rememberedeverything. How he liked his tea, sweet, almost ridiculous. How hed picked daisies from the field for her, whisked her off to Hampstead Heath, skipping work and ignoring his dodgy back.
Theyd been in love, properlyno plans for the future, just living moment to moment. Timothy never wanted talks of what next. He painted Mary again and again, and a couple of his pieces won small prizes, while a well-off chap from Kent bought one for his mansion. It pained Timothy to think of other men admiring Mary, but money was money back then.
You didnt come back, didnt call… I worried something awful. Eventually I buried myself in studies, put myself on a hospital schedule so busy I couldnt think. Ill make coffee. Stop stirring your tea! Mary snapped.
Timothy fell silent.
I got offered Venice, Dads mate arranged it. How could I say no? I learnt loads, Mary, really, I did! he said excitedly.
Yes, I get it. Thats why I wont let Lily be an artist. It can be a hobbygoodness, what a silly word. But as a career, shell work in something normal. I want her to have a proper life. Mary shrugged. You understand?
Not every artist is me, Mary. Not everyone lets people down. Its not the jobits the person. Doctors can be just as hard-hearted. My mumyou never met hershe faded away in a hospital, aged eighty-five. They just forgot about her. Since then, Ive hated doctors. Not you, or your Victor. Just, in general. Im not blaming the profession. It’s people who ruin things. Please, Mary, dont punish your daughter because of me.
Mary suddenly stood so fast she knocked her cup and watched the tea stain the cloth, but she didnt care. Red-faced, she shook her head.
Because of you? Dont flatter yourself! Ill decide whats right for us! Lily will decide. And as for youoff you go! To Venice, Florence, wherever! Go on, off with you!
He dashed out, banging about in the hallway, umbrellas flying, apologising to no one in particular, the door shutting behind him.
Mary cried, mascara running down her cheeks.
Mum, he seems so lost, you know. His place is emptynot of furniture, just… empty. One rooms a studio for lessons, the others for living. The kitchen has no life in it at all. Lily hugged her, both shedding a tear. Did you love him, really, Mum? I had no idea! If you want, Ill stop painting, really. Ill apply for medicine, everything will be fine. All right? My darling Mum, my lovely, lovely Mum.
Kisses to her mothers shoulders, hands, cheeks, and Mary quietly sobbed, then took a drink, wiped her face and nose like a child.
No, Lily. You do what you feel is right. My worries arent yours to carry. I hope youll have a different lifehappier. I hope I raised you to be kind, and to never walk away from love. So, thats settled. All right, darling? Why are you crying? I said yes! You can be a street-sweeper for all I care! Mary started dabbing Lilys tears, hugging her close.
No, mum, Id make a rubbish street-sweeper. I always failed PE! Can I paint you and Aunt Nina? Please, Ill make you look beautiful, youll see. Rightlets have some tea. The cakes havent even been touched! Which oneicing roses, or with walnuts? Actually, we should make coffee too!
Mary looked at her daughter, suddenly feeling light and free for the first time in years. It had lifted, at last. Shed seen Timothy and let the regrets go.
Lily stood nervously in the queue at the competition registration desk, clutching her portfolio.
Miss, you got a portrait? Then its upstairs with the other portrait artists, barked a young steward behind her.
Samson, this isnt a bottles return! scolded a plump lady in glasses, coming over. You help the young lady take her work upstairs, please. And watch it this time!
Lily eyed the young man in frontbig shoulders, not a bit like an artist, more like a rugby player, a bit rough around the edges but good-looking.
Lets get your paintings, bring them along, ordered Samson. Im just here as a student volunteerhelping the creative types. He grinned.
So what are you then? Lily asked, suddenly self-conscious about her old, baggy jumper.
Me? I do civil engineering, UCL. Got our end-of-term dance soon. You should come, Im a terrible dancer, but still… Im Alex, by the way.
And she did go. Alex danced terriblybut that was all part of the fun.
Lilys worka portrait of two women in evening gowns at the entrance to the Royal Opera Housewas studied for ages. One of the judges kept putting on and taking off his glasses, frowning, stepping close, stepping back.
Well, what do you think, Mr. Oakley? I rather like it! laughed Mr. Southgate from the London School of Art. Beautiful women on their way to enjoy some cultureglorious! Oh, to be seventeen again…
He wandered off. But Mr. Oakley stood a minute longer, nodding. He should ring Ninait had to be her in the portrait! Or should he? After all these years? Why notlifes full of surprises!
Later, Nina sat in her armchair, smiling after answering a call from that very same Oleg Oakleycharming and warm, wanting to catch up. She told him shed think about it. Lily had painted her beautifullyOleg had recognised her. Everything was good. Life, suddenly, felt wonderful.
Nina couldnt remember the last time she felt that way. Now, she truly did.
