Canvas and Crestonne

Cue (NZERS), Issue 13, 15 December 1944, Page 18

Canvas and Crestonne

K WHAT would you do with a »’.woman like that?» The

painted fingers drummed on the painted table for a brief but tremendous few moments, then

slowly reached out for the painted meerschaum pipe while the other painted hand moved towards the painted tobacco jar.

The hands of the tousled young man on the sofa reacted simultaneously. Grasping the loose cretonne covers of the soft cushion in a slowly tightening grip, his blue eyes opened in a wide incredulous stare, and a sudden reflex inhalation was cut short as one of the moving cuffs, dislodged the tall stemmed painted glass which in the picture stood near the pipe and sent it crashing to the floor. Duncan suddenly sat bolt upright with a startled look and with a chilliness slowly creeping down his spine.

Perhaps it was the homely expletive « Damn » so fervently spoken by the man in the picture, which enabled him to relax a little and view the phenomenon of an oil painting which had undoubtedly . answered back. Even now, despite the'dislodging of part of its composition it was continuing with a slow, unruffled fastidiousness to fill the pipe which had a few moments

before been But another item on the artist’s canvas. - c

A phlegmatic Scotsman, two generations removed from the K Highlands, with the imperturbability of his forbears still strong in a makeup to which had been added a fair dash of colonial casualness, can be jolted out' of his equanimity by a woman. But when a mere picture breaks into a private introspective conversation between a man and his emotions with « Weel, I’d hae tae conseeder the whole thing verra cannily ower a pipe before I cud

answer that .... hae ye a match ? » Even a colonial Scot might have been excused the tremor which caused the box to rattle as he passed them up ’.

As the match was being applied, with all the complicated processes of puffing, poking, and adjustment necessary to get a well-filled pipe’ burning comfortably, Duncan lost the eerie chilliness of his first supernatural surprise, and found himself thinking naturally again. In fact he waited with some impatience for the remarkable old man to resume the conversation. Perhaps he could help. <' '

This was a very different evening to the one he had ridiculously different: who ever heard of spending Christmas Eve curled up in the cretonne cushions of the family sofa holding conversation in the flickering firelight with an oil painting ? Damned silly ! He had a table booked tor dinner and they’d both agreed that the Christmas cabaret offered an attractive evening’s entertainment. The sofa certainly later, but by then conversation would have been superfluous ! Conversation— perhaps that’s what caused it all. Too much talking, < went over the things they had bou said, again and again—the .company, the laughs, the spluttered explanation, the apology—unaccepted of course, H she had a temper ! And now as a resu of it all ... . .. -

« I mind once ....» he d almoS jf gotten his canvas crony, and as an resenting his inattention, the ftnc j pointed the stem of his pipe at him an

repeated, « I mind once, 1 caused an awfu’ blether by simply nodding an appreciation tae a quotation frae Rabbie Burns, yet I mind when the same lassie kissed me for whispering the self same words in her ear . .. . . ye’ll ken the lines Their tricks and crafts hae put me daft, They’ve taen me in and a’ that, But clear your decks andhere’s the sex ! I like the jades for a’ that. Mind it’s a’ a matter o’ the circumstance for a woman will nae be hurried and nae be laughed at among her friends, but provided the girl is nae pushed or hurried they can be the maist forgiving , creatures in the wurrld.* Having delivered himself of this profundity the old man stroked his mutton chop whiskers and returned to his pipe for a moment, then with -an eye on the decanter standing on the low table beside the fire, again called up the bard with: . A man may drink an no be drunk' ’: A man may fight an no be slain A man may kiss a bonnie lass An aye be welcome back again. Not slow to take the hint, and feeling more hopeful than before, Duncan said, « Will you have a whisky, Grandfather ? » Though his tone was cordial it was tremulous, but his hand he noticed was, however, quite steady as he poured out two glasses in response to the old man’s « Weel it’s a dry business talking.» They both stood up to drink the toast. Duncan giving «Merry Christmas » in reply to the old man’s « S’lante,» and now the ice was broken it was Duncan who did the talking. « Of course grandfather, the smug sentimentality of Robbie Burns may have fitted in O.K. in your day and age, but the woman of to-day is damned independent. They’re individualists and this kiss and come again business doesn’t work. Our modern poets sum it up in words like this— Peace in our time oh Lord but no time to be bored, . ' - Peace to be strenuous \ Lesbian Horsey Yet look ingenuous - ' Though a divorcee > Peace in our time oh Lord!

We like to please ourselves without interference’ and this especially applies to women. I dunno;. I guess we’re different; life’s more difficult or something I » x

« Heh ! A poor thing that bard of yours, wi nae lilt tae his song, an’ man, the kirk and the taproom gang ill taegether . . . the things nae respectable ! A fine peace ye’ll find; ye make life deeficult with that lay.»

It was clear that the old man,, was indignant, for he puffed mightily at his pipe so that Duncan’s next utterance was cut short by a cough was strong tobacco ! The smoke seemed to envelop him. He coughed again door must be ajar—the chimney smoked abominably when the door was left open. Suddenly he was awakethe fire was smoking and instinctively ~he kicked it into a blaze again. Then, in an atmosphere still distinctly eerie, discovered two things. The picture was as he’d always remembered it and the door was ajar ! With unsteady gait he made his way to the light switch and with eyes still fixed on the picture, snapped on the light. * ’

The old man sat, as always, surrounded by his painted paraphernalia—an enigmatic smile on his bewhiskered face — tucked between the frame and the canvas was a note. With some trepidation DUncan opened the folded paper and his heart leaped as he read in the bold, round hand he knew so well — Darling, It was silly of us both and I cameto tell you; but you were asleep, simply buried in cretonne cushions— Bad lad, you’d been drinking with your rowdy friends for I picked up a broken glass from the carpet before I crept away home. I did want to say « Merry Xmas » to you at —12 o’clock. I’ve been feeling awful blue ! « Ye’ll aye be welcome back again,» lad. - - ; \ ' Sally. With a .whoop of delight he • was gone. The old man still wore his enigmatic smile, the clock ticked steadily and chimed 11.30, and the fire still smoked, for in his haste Duncan, too, had forgotten to close the door.