9 comments/ 33488 views/ 7 favorites A Flower in the Wilderness By: Moondrift Adrian Westbrooke decided he had to change his way of life because his present path was leading him to disaster. He was sick of the parties that turned rapidly into orgies; the booze and the drugs that were supposed to be part of the artist's lifestyle; the hangers on; especially the young and not so young women who thought it was sophisticated to mingle with artists; he was sick of the one night stands. Above all he was sick of the mediocrity of his own work. Adrian decided on the change when one morning he awoke after a wild party and saw his one night stand lying beside him. The makeup that had made her look desirable when he was inebriated was now cracked and peeling, making her skin look leprous. There was the combined stench of booze, sweat and the post coital fishy smell pervading the bed and the room. His head ached and he knew he was going to vomit. He got off the bed and made it just in time to the toilet. In there he retched into the bowl. Afterwards, looking at himself in the mirror, he saw a grey faced, bleary eyed image staring back at him. He saw to it that the woman, after she had showered, was duly breakfasted. He telephoned for a taxi to take her to wherever she lived, and as she was about to depart she scribbled her name and address on a piece of paper, and with a salacious grin said, "Give me a ring some time, with the equipment you've got you can keep a girl very happy." Adrian did not mind about the piece of paper; that was easily disposed of; what gave him a touch of anxiety was that he saw her write down his telephone number. * * * * * * * * Many people, perhaps most, would consider Adrian to be a fortunate young man. At twenty seven years of age he was good looking when he wasn't completely hung over; intelligent; financially independent thanks to his late grandparents, and talented, which talent he was in the process of squandering away due to his life style. It might be considered that his financial independence led to the mediocrity of his work; he didn't need to make an effort to remain financially solvent. On the other hand, he had seen how some of his less fortunate fellow artists resorted to mediocrity in order to make a living. What he needed to do, he thought, was to get away, right away, from the city and it's so-called artistic circle; the question was, were? There was the Inland School; artists who live away from the city in country towns, but even they were within a couple of hours drive from the city. What Adrian thought he needed was the deep inland. Not willing to become the complete artistic hermit his final choice of Bangalul was probably the most unlikely. Well inland, in fact just about as far as you could get from any of the major cities, Bangalul had a population of around four thousand. Its primary reason for existing was the nearby gas field, its plant located some four kilometres north of the town with its pipelines running hundreds of kilometres to the large centers of population. At certain times of the day cars could be seen traveling north out of the town, and a little while later cars could be seen traveling south into the town; that was the time the shifts changed. The town also sat astride a main highway running from north to south of the continent, a highway much used by tourists who insisted that they had "to see the country." Back aching, stiff legged travelers tended to make an overnight stop at Bangalul, and so the town boasted two motels and a pub that had limited accommodation. Along with this went the services needed to support the gas field workers and the tourists. This included a reasonable shopping mall, a dentist and a medical centre. Bangalul was in the midst of an arid plain that rather like a huge bowl was surrounded at some distance by hills that from Bangalul seemed to be dusted by a blue mist. The flatness of the plain itself was only broken by occasional rocky outcrops and the only vegetation blue and salt bush with the occasional unhappy tree struggling for survival. To the eyes of the coastal fringe dweller this is a place that lacks any beauty, but, so I am told, to they eyes of the more perceptive it has its own particular form of beauty. It was this place Adrian chose to be the geographical location of his new way of life, and, he hoped, a source of inspiration to assist his climb out of the pit of artistic mediocrity. He found a house that he thought would suit his purpose admirably. It was located south of the town and was removed from it by about a kilometre. For about half a kilometre the road that went from the town in the direction of the house had a bitumen surface. This came to and end when the road dipped down into a concrete ford over a wide but dry creek bed. The creek stretched from horizon to horizon and, he was told, only rarely had water flowing in it. The flow might be initiated, not by local rainfall, but rain falling anywhere along the creek including in the distant hills. Beyond the creek the road became a dirt track going past his house until it finally petered out. In what passed for colonial style with corrugated iron roof and wide verandas, the house had once been the homestead of a vast cattle station. It had long ceased that function, and over the decades there had been a series of owners who had progressively upgraded it for both good and ill according to their taste and means. The house was far larger than Adrian needed, but since it had no other buyers he got it very cheaply. He did his own bit of upgrading, in this case to suit his artistic needs. At some time in the past part of the verandah had been glassed in to form a conservatory. No doubt it had once contained plants but now it became his studio holding Adrian's artistic paraphernalia. Not that he intended to make much use of it because he saw himself as essentially a landscape artist, and so much of his time would be spent outdoors painting the rugged views. This then, was to be the place of Adrian's rebirth, both as an artist and a man. * * * * * * * * Such was the community that word soon got around that "A young artist bloke has just moved into the old homestead." Adrian was something of a curiosity since the town had never had an artist in its midst, apart from members of the local Ladies Auxiliary water colour group whose doubtful daubs inhabited the walls of the "The Community Club." Unwilling to forgo some of the comforts of civilised life as he conceived them to be, Adrian employed a daily who "did for him;" a somewhat austere but efficient lady called Mrs. McGregor whose main motto in life seemed to be, "Cleanliness is next to godliness." Since he would need to reconnoiter large areas of the plain in search of views for his landscape painting, Adrian had purchased an off-road four wheel drive vehicle, but his first exploration was the town itself. This did not take very long, but it did lead to an encounter that was to have a profound effect on his life. Having driven round the not very inspiring housing, mainly provide by the company for its workers, Adrian parked his vehicle in Dennis street -- named after one of the early inhabitants of the area -- and walked along the pavement viewing the shops. He was just passing Dann's the Pharmacist shop when a woman came hurrying out. She tripped over a crack in the pavement, staggered a couple of steps and ended up being supported by Adrian. "Sorry...so sorry she gasped, I just tripped and...well, thanks for saving me." The plastic shopping bags she had been carrying were lying on the pavement and Adrian helped her recover them. It was then he had the opportunity to see her properly and was fascinated by her looks. He was reminded of the painting of Freyja the Norse goddess by Arthur Rackham, except that Rackham's Freyja was bare breasted, and this woman was not exposed in that way. She was slender with a long graceful neck and a heart shaped face with delicate features. Her softly waving hair, parted in the middle, was cut to where the base of her head joined her neck and was a startling mixture of red and gold, rather like the fur of a fox. Her complexion, unlike the rougher complexions of the inlanders, was a soft pink and cream. The loveliest green eyes he had ever seen seemed to sparkle as she looked at him. He gauged her to be in her mid twenties. Adrian had known many women, quite a few of them intimately in the bedtime sense, but he thought this woman to be the most beautiful he had ever seen. Unusually for Adrian in the presence of attractive women, he found himself tongue tied as he looked at her. It was she who broke the silence, smiling and asking a question that since so many tourist passed through the town, he was to hear many times. "Just passing through?" Adrian's tongue untied as he said, "Ah...er...no, I've just moved in." "Are you the artist who's moved into the old homestead?" she asked. "Yes...er...Adrian Westbrooke." "Celeste Harma-Swan," she said, extending her hand. He took it in his and found it to be cool and her grip firm. She laughed lightly and said, "You're arrival has caused quite a stir, we've never had an artist in our midst before, this is not the sort of place where you expect an artist to want to live. By the way, I'm the vicar's wife and we're having a garden party on Saturday afternoon, here's a pamphlet about it, you can get to meet quite a few people if you come along. I've got to rush, but I hope I'll see you on Saturday, but if not I'm sure we'll meet up again, it's a small town." With that she left Adrian, heading for a small dark blue car in which she drove off. He watched her and the car until both were out of sight. There seemed to him some incongruity about this lovely women living in the rough environment that surrounded Bangalul. "A lovely flower growing in the wilderness," he thought. He looked at the pamphlet she had thrust into his hand. It advertised the various side shows and the sausage sizzle that would be available at the garden party. He had never been to a vicarage garden party, but he had always imagined them to be in gardens with green lawns, shady trees, shrubs and flower beds. He could conjure up no such image for the Bangalul vicarage. On the other hand Celeste Harma-Swan did not match up to his vision of a vicar's wife, but his knowledge of vicar's wives tended to be limited to the caricatures of such women as seen in films and on television; plain, severe and censorious. Being an agnostic Adrian would normally not have been interested in the garden party, but his curiosity had been aroused by his chance meeting with the fair Celeste. He would go, even if only to see her again, and perhaps meet a few of the locals. * * * * * * * * On Saturday afternoon he drove into the town, and after a few enquires he located first the church, and next to it the vicarage. It was as he had anticipated; there was a lawn but not of a luscious green. It consisted of some tough grass that struggled to survive in the poor soil and the ongoing drought. Instead of shady trees, shrubs and flower beds the large garden was festooned with beach umbrellas under which were set out tables and plastic chairs. People were already there, some seated and others milling around the hoopla, coconut shies and the sausage sizzle. Not knowing anyone Adrian wandered around wondering if the scene would make a worthwhile painting, until he was spotted by Mrs. Harma-Swan. She came to him smiling a welcome and said, "I'm so glad you made it, come and meet my husband." She led him to one of the beach umbrellas and as they approached a man stood up. "Darling, this is the artist I told you about, Mr...er..." "Adrian Westbrooke," Adrian supplied. "Kingsley Harma-Swan," the man replied, taking off his sun glasses, "call me Kingsley." If Adrian had been surprised by Celeste, he was even more surprised by Kingsley Harma-Swan. Dressed in cream trousers with a dark blue shirt surmounted by one of those minuscule dog collars some clergy effect these days, he was well over six feet tall. If Celeste had reminded him of the goddess Freyja, Kingsley reminded Adrian of Adonis. With dark hair and vivid blue eyes the only word Adrian could find to describe him was "beautiful." Inapt though that word would normally be to describe a male, undoubtedly is fitted Kingsley Harma-Swan. As they shook hands and Kingsley said, "Welcome to Bangalul," he looked at Adrian with what he felt was intense and disconcerting appraisal, and the handshake seemed to linger a little longer than necessary. The moment passed and Kingsley said, "Sit down, shall I get you something to eat and drink?" Adrian said he would like something and so Kingsley said, "You talk to Celeste while I fetch it." Adrian had begun by addressing her as Mrs. Harma-Swan, but Celeste laughed and said, "Celeste, please, we're rather informal here, and anyway Harma--Swan is such a mouthful." "How did you get the name Harma-Swan?" Adrian asked, "It's rather unusual." "Kingsley's family name is Harma and mine was Swan before we married and so we just put them together joined by a hyphen." Kingsley was approaching carrying a tray of food and drink, and Adrian noticed the grace and ease with which he moved. The word "beautiful" came to mind again. As they ate Kingsley and Celeste questioned Adrian about his reasons for moving to Bangalul, Adrian, unwilling to reveal that he was looking for a new way of life, told them he had come seeking fresh inspiration for his work. The talk went on for a couple of hours, strung out by the arrival of people to talk with the vicar and to be introduced to Adrian. Their welcomes to the town were clearly laced with curiosity about this young man who had come to paint their environment. The party was beginning to slow down as Adrian rose to take his leave. Celeste said, "Perhaps we shall see you tomorrow?" "Tomorrow?" Adrian asked, puzzled because he could think of no reason why they should meet again the next day. "The church service -- half past ten," Celeste said. "Oh...yes of course," Adrian replied without committing himself, thinking that church attendance was not quite his thing. * * * * * * * * That night Adrian thought about the church service and the idea of seeing Celeste again decided him that he would attend. Besides he would like to hear what this unusual vicar had to say. The church seated about a hundred people and Adrian was surprised to see it nearly full. He noted that at least three quarters of the congregation consisted of women. He was looking for somewhere to sit when Celeste came up to him and said, "Come and sit with me. Sitting next to Celeste was more or less the beginning and end of the service as far as Adrian was concerned. Her nearness coupled with the fragrance of her Jasmine perfume was too disconcerting for concentration on anything else. He was vaguely aware that Kingsley, in a rich baritone voice, preached on something about a woman taken in adultery and a stoning to death that didn't happen. After the service, Celeste, holding his arm, led him to the church door to stand beside Kingsley for more introductions. Since the majority of the congregation was women, it was to women he got mostly introduce, but they seemed to have little interest in him. Their attention was focused on Kingsley. They tried to linger, holding his hand, while others behind them pushed to move them on and take their turn at Kingsley hand holding. Adrian glanced at Celeste a few times to see how she was taking this female interest in her husband, and saw that she was smiling rather enigmatically. Finding no excuse to linger Arian drove back to his house deep in thought. Although he was attracted to Celeste, he told himself to not hanker after what he had no chance of getting. Firstly, she was a vicar's wife, and that suggested stern morality; second, she was not only a vicar's wife, but married to a vicar of such looks and personality that he could not imagine any man would have a look in. * * * * * * * * During the following week Adrian explored the surrounding country, noting likely subjects for his painting. Gradually he came to terms with this stark landscape, finding it did indeed have a beauty when taken on its own terms. Despite his decision that it was better not to let his mind linger on Celeste, she did keep coming into his thoughts. This led him to continue attending the church services. It was after the fourth time he attended that Celeste asked him, "Would you like to have lunch with us after next Sunday's service." Adrian readily accepted this invitation, telling himself this would be at least one lunch he wouldn't have to prepare himself, and it would give him a little longer to bask in Celeste's aura. Over the lunch Adrian was surprised to see that although in public Kingsley and Celeste appeared to be a united and affectionate couple, in private they seemed to distance themselves slightly from each other. He could detect no signs of aggression as if they'd had a fight or argument, but they seemed to keep each other at arm's length. After lunch Adrian was not sure whether or not he should leave, and as he began to express his thanks for the lunch Kingsley said, "Don't go yet old chap, Celeste has something she wants to ask you." With that he excused himself, saying something about having to prepare for the Sunday evening youth service, leaving Celeste and Adrian sitting in the lounge." Adrian looked at Celeste enquiringly and she said, "What I want to ask you is, do you paint portraits?" Taken a bit by surprise Adrian replied, "Well I have done two or three, but portraiture if not really my field, I'm a landscape artist." "But you have done portraits?" "Yes." "Would you paint my portrait?" "Oh, I really don't think I could..." Adrian began, but Celeste interrupted. "Please Adrian, I really would like you to paint me, I can pay." "It's not a question of money," Adrian said hastily, "it's a matter of me feeling I can do you justice." "How do you know if you don't try?" Celeste asked. Adrian wanted to say that he felt he could not capture her delicate and exquisite beauty, but instead he said, "I might be wasting your time." "Or I might be wasting yours?" Celeste queried. "No," Adrian said, "If I thought I could do you justice I wouldn't hesitate but..." Shall we make a little agreement," Celeste said persuasively, "if after a few sittings you really do feel you can't do me justice then we stop with no hard feelings, how's that?" "Well if you're really sure, Celeste..." "I am," she replied firmly. "Then when would you like to sit for me?" "I'm flexible," she replied, "how often?" "How about three times a week for a couple of hours at a time?" They settled for Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons. "Can you tell me what you'd like to wear?" "Nothing formal, something casual, I thought white shorts and a red shirt. Would that be all right?" "Fine," Adrian said, "if that's what you want. Do you mind if I have a look at you?" "You are looking at me," Celeste said. Adrian laughed and said, "Yes but what I mean is...would you go and stand over by the window." Celeste obeyed and stood facing him. He looked at her intently for a couple of minutes and then said, "Turn so I can see your left side." Another couple of minutes and then, "Let me see your right side." "Okay," Adrian said briskly," that'll do for now. Tomorrow we can go into detail about the best way for you to pose. Perhaps you might have some idea yourself." "I might leave it up to you, Adrian," she said, "but can I come to your place for the sittings?" Adrian was puzzled about her choice of venue, but it suited him since it would be more convenient. Once the setting was prepared it could remain as it was. He nodded and said, "As you wish." A Flower in the Wilderness * * * * * * * * His arrangement with Celeste left Adrian free in the mornings to pursue his chosen style of painting - landscapes. After his exploration of the surrounding country he had already found a number of views he considered suitable, and so on Monday morning he began his first work. It didn't go well because he wasn't concentrating properly, his mind kept wandering to the up coming afternoon with Celeste. He knew it was foolish to be so absorbed by her, but after all, what man would not look forward to an afternoon with a beautiful woman. She arrived at the prearranged time and was wearing a plain while cotton dress. "I thought you said you wanted to wear..." he began, but Celeste cut in. "It's all right, "I've brought them with me; I'll change here." Adrian would have liked her to wear a long but simple body hugging evening dress, but since he'd left the choice to her he accepted what she'd decided. He took her to the conservatory, now his studio, and left her to change. He had already come to a tentative decision about where he wanted to pose her. It was inspired by one of the first thoughts he'd had about her, "A lovely flower growing in the wilderness." Through the windows of the studio could be seen the plain stretching out to the blue hills. If he posed her there in front of the window there would be the contrast between the rugged background and her delicate beauty. When he returned to the studio Celeste was ready in her white shorts and red shirt. Adrian explained his idea to her and she agreed. The details of the pose took some time, with Celeste turning this way and that until Adrian was satisfied he'd got the best pose. He had her seated on a box covered in black velvet, her body turned partially away from the viewer, in this case Adrian, but her face was turned to look directly at him. There was a lower box on which she rested one bare foot, this bent her knee slightly; the other foot rested on the floor. Her back was arched and her head thrown back slightly on her slender neck. One hand rested lightly on the bent knee and the other touched the frame of the window. The arching of her back drew Adrian's attention to the fact she was not wearing a bra and her shirt moulded over her pointed nipples and the upturned breasts. This, together with her long legs showed off to perfection by the shorts, he found somewhat disturbing. In art school the models who posed naked for the students had never troubled him, but the exquisite loveliness of Celeste he found deeply disquieting. "If only I were the vicar of Bangalul," he thought. He could see that painting Celeste was going to be an unsettling exercise. * * * * * * * * Perhaps because he was unsure of himself as a portrait painter Adrian made many sketches of Celeste that afternoon. As he worked he talked to her, asking her about her life in Bangalul; did she like living in the town? Was she much involved in church work? Where had she lived before Bangalul? Questions that gently probed her personality giving him more than a physical image of her that he must bring out in the painting. He seemed to detect what he felt was a sweet naivety in her only covered by a thin layer of adult sophistication. In addition Adrian could detect none to the arrogance that many attractive women display. It was as if Celeste was unaware of her beauty. He also noticed that if a question got too close to her relationship with Kingsley she would veer away from it. Adrian had continued to attend church although his motive for doing so would not come into the category of religious. He'd had the opportunity to see Kingsley and Celeste together both in public and private and was puzzled by the reserve between them when in private. There seemed to be no animosity between them, no ill will, so why this reserve? He wondered how often Kingsley and Celeste made love. Adrian felt that it must be wonderful to make love with such a beautiful woman, and of course there were Kingsley's amazing good looks. He wondered if after a while the beauty of one's sex partner had little to do with the frequency of sexual intercourse. His experience with women had been mainly limited to drunken one nightstands with girls and women he was not in love with and the departure of whom he was glad to see in the morning. He wondered how he would feel in the morning if it had been with Celeste. They broke every half hour to give Celeste a rest from her pose and as their time drew to a close Celeste asked if she could see what he had done. He pointed out that he had only made rough sketches that would mean little to her; nevertheless he showed them to her, but she made no comment. As she left he watched her little blue car bounce along the rough track, disappear for a moment into the dry creek bed, and then reappear up the other side and continue along the bitumen until it went round a bend and out of his sight. He felt a sudden emptiness in the place. He spent some time before her next visit mulling over the sketches he had made. He wondered how he would be able to present not only her physical beauty, but the inner beauty he believed he had detected. He cursed himself for being so unsure of his skill in portrait painting, and wished he had been more involved with his subjects in the few portraits he had painted. He had come to Bangalul seeking inspiration; he had found it and believed that if his hands could do what his mind conceived, Celeste's portrait would be his finest work yet; the lovely flower in the wilderness. * * * * * * * * At her next visit he began the portrait proper. This time he questioned her about her childhood. He learned that her mother was a philosophy lecturer at the university and her father was principal of the theological college where Kingsley had done his training. That was how Celeste had met Kingsley, and strangely she had no difficulty talking about his academic achievements and his ambitions. It was only matters relating to her marriage and her relationship with Kingsley that brought the shutters down over her eyes and she fell silent. He learned that Kingsley had been an outstanding student both at the university and the college. His professors believed he was destined for an academic career, but he had insisted that he must have parish experience, that he must, as he apparently had put it, mix with "real people" before entering academia. How long would they stay in Bangalul? She didn't know, perhaps for a long time, perhaps not. Kingsley was a wonderful pastor and had a real concern for people, and in many ways it would be pity for him to leave parish work and take an academic position, but it might prove inevitable. "Why inevitable?" Adrian asked. The shutters came down and Celeste turned the discussion on to another track. Adrian felt somewhat frustrated by Celeste's refusal to talk about her marriage. He felt that here lay a key to her character. After all, a beautiful woman virtually locked away in an isolated community when like many attractive women she could be enjoying a glamorous life in a city seemed strange. He wondered if she was only there in Bangalul out of loyalty to Kingsley. He had heard stories of attractive women going with their husbands to live in such remote places and very quickly divorce followed. He also wondered why she was having her portrait painted. It was usually a husband or parents that wanted a portrait painted of their wife or child, yet as far as he could tell Kingsley had no interest in Celeste's portrait. After his first invitation to lunch with the Harmer-Swans other invitations had followed and each time after he meal Kingsley had excused himself and left Adrian and Celeste together. If Kingsley disliked Adrian's company why invite him, and in any case Adrian could detect no dislike for him in Kingsley, and certainly Adrian harbored no dislike for Kingsley. Adrian did wonder if Kingsley had detected his growing feelings for Celeste, but again, why leave him alone with Celeste, and surely if he did have suspicions about Adrian's feelings, he would have tried to stop the portrait sessions, yet he did nothing. "Yes," Adrian thought, "it's all very puzzling." * * * * * * * * Adrian was struggling with the portrait and the time came for them to review the arrangement they had made; should they continue or not? Adrian freely admitted that he was unable to capture the aspects of Celeste that he thought made her who she was, but he was reluctant to give up. He did not reveal his real motive for not giving up, which had less to do with the portrait and more to do with having Celeste to himself for six and more hours each week. Celeste seemed equally reluctant to give up saying, "It will come Adrian, I know it will." And so they continued and in fact continued long after the portrait should have been finished, and Adrian noticed that Celeste increasingly arrived early and lingered after the session was over as if wanting to spend time with him. He had become so obsessed with Celeste and the portrait that his landscape work was not going well. It is questionable whether it was the portrait he was obsessed with or the subject. The more he saw of Celeste the more infatuated with her he became. In addition to her seeming reluctance to go home after a session, Adrian noticed that Celeste increasingly sought to touch him. He had avoided having physical contact with her as much as possible, since he felt there was no point in torturing himself over what he could not have, but he could not reject her desire to have physical contact with him. He did however admit to himself that had Celeste been one of the women he had once associated with, he would have had her in his bed in very short order. But Celeste was not one of those women. It was one Wednesday afternoon and Adrian had reached desperation point over the portrait. It was as he irritably made some slight adjustment to her pose that Celeste put her arms round his neck and saying, "Don't be cross Adrian," she kissed him. Her lips were warm and soft and the kiss not simply a friendly peck. When the kiss was ended her arms remained round his neck, and she was looking deep into his eyes. "I think I know why you're having so much trouble with the portrait," she said. Adrian, overwhelmed by her kiss and her continued physical contact with him stammered, "W-what d-do you th-think is the t-trouble?" "The trouble is, Adrian, that you're in love with me, and that love is causing you to lose objectivity. I'm right aren't I?" Adrian was almost struck dumb by Celeste's frankness. He struggled to find a response, but Celeste continued, "And if it's any consolation, I'm in love with you." "You...you can't be in love with me," Adrian said hoarsely. "Why not?" Celeste asked. "Kingsley...you're married and..." "That doesn't stop me being in love with you Adrian," Celeste said, kissing him again. "Why don't you make love to me, you know you want to, you've wanted to almost from that first time we met." She slipped from the box to stand in front of him. He felt the pressure of her body against his and for a moment he almost succumbed, and then pushing her away said, "No...no...I couldn't do that to Kingsley." "You don't understand," Celeste began to say, but Adrian cut across her. "There's nothing to understand except that you're inviting me to commit adultery -- you're prepared to betray Kingsley." "I want to explain," Celeste tried to say, but once again Adrian, backing away from her, interrupted. "There's nothing to explain, so please don't let's continue this. You're here to have your portrait painted, so let's get on with it." Celeste's face was white with anger and she was shaking. "We won't get on with it, it's over." She picked up the dress she had arrived in and stormed out of the house. Adrian didn't watch her drive up the track this time, but he was aware of the sound of her departure. * * * * * * * * "So that's the end of it," Adrian said to himself. He had rejected the very thing he wanted so dearly, and was not sure whether to curse himself for a fool or bless himself for a saint. For once he had been offered the body of a woman he loved, and not the body of a woman he would despise in the morning, and he had rejected her. If he ever saw her again it would be only by chance in the town. The next day he was unable to work. For as long as she had sat for her portrait he at least had been with her, now he could not even go to the church where he had always sat beside her. Thinking about her and frankly admitting he wanted her, he was almost driven to tearing the paint off the walls. The most beautiful woman he had ever met and he had said "no." Friday and this was a day when she would normally have come for a sitting, but there would be no more Fridays, or Mondays and Wednesdays. As if by some established habit or ritual he went into his studio at the time he would normally expect Celeste to arrive and sat miserably staring at the incomplete portrait of her. He was so lost in thought he did not even hear her car draw up. It was not until she actually entered the studio he was aware that she had arrived for the sitting. "Celeste! He exclaimed I didn't expect..." "Let's get on with it," she snapped. "But you said..." "For God's sake let's get on with it. You'd better leave the room while I change or you might see my naked body and we wouldn't want that, would we?" Confused Adrian left her while she changed, and when he returned she was already in position. Not a word was said, and when she saw he was ready to start she adopted her pose. He found it even more difficult than ever to work and what he did do was more pretence than reality. He broke the grim silence between them when he noticed through the window behind Celeste black storm clouds building up over the distant hills. There was distant lightening followed after an interval with a faint rumble of thunder. "Looks like a storm in the hills," he said. Celeste turned to look out of the window. "Yes," she said a curious smile on her lips. "Let's hope we get some of it on the plain, we've waited long enough for it." Adrian worked on as the storm approached. The drought had been long and the ground parched, but now the rain came pouring down, seeming to lash the earth to the accompaniment of constant vivid lightening strikes and crashing thunder. The roof gutters filled and overflowed, unable to cope with the downpour. The light had faded and it became impossible for Adrian to go on working. He switched on the electric light, but there was nothing. "The line must be down," Celeste said. For long after that storm the people of Bangalul said there had never been such a storm in living memory, and it became known as "The day of the storm." * * * * * * * * "You might as well change and go home go home as soon as the storm eases," Adrian said. Celeste laughed and said, "I'm afraid, Adrian, you won't be able to get rid of me that easily." "But it won't go on for ever," Adrian said and..." "No," Celeste said, "laughing again, "but its aftermath will." "Aftermath...what..." "Go and look at the creek, Adrian." "Go out in this and look at..." "Getting wet won't hurt you," she said, "just go and look." He took an umbrella, but he didn't need to go to the creek. He could see from the house that the creek was already flooding over its banks. When he went back into the studio it was to see Celeste lounging back in an old armchair. "Well?" she asked; a faint smile on her lips. "The creek, it's already in flood," Adrian said. "Yes," Celeste said. "You see, it isn't just the local rain. When it rains up in the hills it sends a wall of water down the creek. They call it a flash flood. People have camped in the dry creek bed, and there's been no local rain, but it has rained up in the hills. Down comes the flash flood and they've been drowned, or if they're lucky they only lose or their gear." "So how are you going to get home," Adrian asked anxiously." "I can't," she said, "the only way back to the town is across the ford, and even if I tried the car would probably get swept away." "That means you'll have to..." "Yes, you poor by," Celeste said mockingly, "that means you're stuck with the wicked women who tried to seduce you." "Don't, Celeste," Adrian said, "it was just a passing thing and we don't need to talk about it." "Don't we?" Celeste asked tersely. "No, how long will the creek stay in flood?" Adrian said, picking up her tone. "Oh dear, you are anxious, aren't you. Well the good news is that it might be down by tomorrow or it might take a week. It depends on just how much rain was dumped up in the hills." "Kingsley, he'll be worried sick," Adrian said. "No he won't, he knows were I am." "But alone here with me?" "Yes, alone here with you," Celeste said, looking at him amused. "If you're so worried about it I'll use your telephone and give him a call; that is, if the phone isn't out as well as the power. Can I reassure him you'll be able to feed me? I mean, he wouldn't want me to starve to death." "I've got enough food to last a few days," Adrian said, "and please ring him and let him know what's happening." "He'll know what's happening but if it makes you feel better I'll call him." The telephone was still working and Celeste got through to Kingsley. There was a brief conversation and when Celeste out down the phone she said, "There you are then, it was lucky I could get through." "What did he say?" "He said: yes he realised the creek was in flood and I couldn't get back; he was relieved that you had sufficient food; you are to look after me and we are to enjoy ourselves. Does that make you feel better?" "And he really doesn't mind you being here alone with me?" "No, he doesn't mind me being here alone with you, and so you can stop feeling guilty about something we haven't done." "I wasn't feeling..." "Oh yes you were Adrian. You've been guilty about the way you feel about me for a long time, but as the old song has it, "You can't get in jail for what you're thinking." If on Wednesday you'd given me the chance to explain, you'd have discovered that there's nothing to feel guilty about. I don't feel guilty. Now while I'm here perhaps I can pay for my board and keep by doing the cooking, so show me where the food is, I'm starving." "There's no need for you to..." "Oh yes there is Adrian. After all I'm the vile seductress and I'm sure you wouldn't want people to suspect that I paid for my board and keep in any way other than the most virtuous. By the way Mrs. McGregor won't be able to get here to do you're cleaning, but don't expect me to do it." Her whole manner had been somewhat satirical and Adrian wondered where his goddess had gone. "Perhaps goddesses have these moods he thought, especially when their offers of sexual pleasure have been rejected. * * * * * * * * Her cooking, Adrian had to admit, was far better than his, but what he thought of as her "mood" continued. After the meal and the clearing up they retired to the lounge and sat opposite each other in armchairs and Celeste said, "And what shall we do to keep ourselves entertained this evening? We'd better keep it safe; have you got any children's board games?" Adrian, having so far not reacted to her cynical remarks now turned on her. "There's no need to be sarcastic Celeste. If we've got to spend time together we might as well make it as pleasant as possible. We have a choice of CDs, the radio or the TV, if the reception is any good." "Which it probably won't be," Celeste added. "Or we can just talk." A Flower in the Wilderness "Oh yes, by all means let's talk," Celeste said, "what shall we talk about the world economy, whose going to win the next election, the price of knickers?" Adrian with an effort to remain calm said, "Since we do have to spend time together, and there's some unresolved business, I think we should talk about us." "Us? My God Adrian you are being bold." Ignoring her retort Adrian went on, "The other day I kept cutting off what you were saying. I suppose I was too scared to hear what you had to say. A little while ago you said, "If on Wednesday you'd given me the chance to explain, you'd have discovered that there's nothing to feel guilty about." "Oh, you were listening then," Celeste said provocatively. "Yes, I was listening," Adrian said. "I was listening because I've been so bloody miserable about the rift that was caused by what happened between has. So I'd like to know what you meant by that." "It was sex that caused the rift," Celeste said faintly. I was sure...so sure of myself and of you, I behaved like a slut." She laughed harshly; "The parson's wife is a harlot." "Stop it Celeste. You talk about my guilt feelings, what about yours?" "The only guilt feelings I have are over offering myself to you and being rejected. It was so humiliating." "I didn't want to reject you," he said. "Then why did you?" He paused for a moment looking at her steadily and then said, "All my sexual relationships so far have been....well, casual. It was with women that in the morning I didn't care if I never saw them again." "So what stopped you with me?" "Celeste," he said quietly, "my life was going nowhere; I came here to try and get it straight. Not long after I arrived and met you quite by chance. I could see almost from the start you were something different; the sort of woman I'd never had anything to do with before." He paused again and then went on, "I knew that if we did do it, then I would want more; it wouldn't...it couldn't be anything casual." "I didn't want it to be casual Adrian," she replied. "What about Kingsley, would there be no guilt over him?" "Kingsley? That's just the point, I don't need to feel guilty about him, he knows how I feel about you, and he's got shrewd idea about how you feel about me." "He knows!" Adrian said, sitting bolt upright in his chair. "Yes, I told him." "You what?" "Told him; he doesn't mind." Adrian flopped back in his chair again. "Celeste he....he doesn't mind? That's crazy, he must mind." "But he doesn't Adrian, that's what I wanted to tell you the other day, but you kept interrupting me." "Then for God's sake tell me now Celeste so that I can make some sense of it." They fell silent, listening to the rain hammering on the corrugated iron roof and water pouring out of the gutters. Celeste sighed and said, "I'm afraid it's a bit of a tangled story." "Tell it any way," Adrian said. * * * * * * * * "Remember I told you that Kingsley is quite brilliant academically and that was the direction everyone thought he would take?" "Yes, but what's that got to do with..." "Please, just listen to me Adrian. The other day when wicked woman tried to seduce you, Kingsley had just got the offer of an academic position and he thinks he'll accept it." "So you'll be leaving Bungalul?" "Yes, and you see, he won't need me any more." "Won't need...why...what has getting an academic..." "Don't interrupt Adrian." "Sorry." "I had to find out if I could trust you Adrian...trust you never to reveal what I wanted to tell you. The academic offer forced my hand as it were; do you understand?" "No." "I thought you might have detected something, but obviously you haven't; so I'll start right from the beginning. As you know I met Kingsley when he was studying theology. He's terribly serious about his faith you know." Adrian made no comment so she went on, "I fell insanely in love with him and I thought he'd fallen for me." "Thought?" "Just listen." "Sorry." "Obviously we got married and it was only after we got married I found out." "What?" "He couldn't make love with me. I'd wondered why he'd never touched me before we go married but I put it down to religious convictions or something like that. After we'd married he tried, but it was hopeless. He told me he thought he might change with me, but he couldn't." Adrian thought if Kingsley couldn't manage sex with Celeste then he couldn't manage it with anyone. "Why couldn't he?" "Because he's gay." "What...then why in hell did he marry you?" "As I've just told you, he really did think he would be able to change, but there was another reason. You see, the Church won't ordain gay people, and no one knew about Kingsley's sexual orientation, and so if he married me..." "They would ordain him. It sounds as if he just used you." "No, not like that Adrian; he does love me but love doesn't always mean sex. I mean I was in love with him, really in love, and I suppose I did push him pretty hard about marriage. If we parted now I should still want him as a friend, a very dear friend, but in that sense it's really all we can ever be even if we stay married." "The thing is, Adrian, I'm not the sort of woman who wants to live a celibate life and Kingsley understands that. It has still been necessary for us to live together like a normal married couple but Kingsley agreed that if I found someone and I was very circumspect about it, he wouldn't mind me having a sexual relationship." "Has Kingsley got a lover?" Adrian asked. "Yes, but I'm not going to tell you who it is so don't ask." "I wasn't going to ask," he replied. Celeste laughed and said, "Those poor women in the congregation; they'd all like to get Kingsley into their beds. If only they knew. And so you see if Kingsley takes this academic post it won't matter so much if I do have an affair." "Why won't it matter?" "Oh Adrian, don't be so dim, you know what the academic world is like, it's got heaps of gay people. Kingsley and I can separate but remain good friends, and I...well we...you and me could become lovers." She laughed self deprecatingly and said, "You see, I'd got it all neatly worked out. I thought you were in love with me...really in love..." "I am," Adrian protested. "Yes, I know, and I also know I'm in love with you, and so I thought...well you know what I thought. "Yes, I know. I was a fool the other day, wasn't I?" "Perhaps I handled it badly Adrian. If I told you what I've just told you before I tried...hey, if I had it might have been you seducing me." "Very likely," Adrian replied. The rain seemed to be hammering even more fiercely on the roof and Adrian said, "I hope the roof doesn't leak, it's the first time it's rained since I moved in." "And it'll probably be a long time before it rains again; what we've got to worry about is whether or not the creek will start to flood the whole area and they'll have to send a boat to rescue us." They sat in silence for a while until Celeste said, "Adrian, do I have to humiliate myself again?" "What? Ah...oh...yes, I see. Shall we go to bed...together I mean." Celeste raised her eyes to heaven and said, "Thank God, he's finally got the right idea." Slightly offended Adrian said, "I've always had the right idea, almost from the first time I met you but..." "Save your breath darling," Celeste said, "I think you're going to need it." * * * * * * * * They awoke in a rumpled bed smelling of their nighttime sexual activity. The revulsion Adrian had felt in the past with his bedtime companions was absent. He laid looking at her and seeing the look in his eyes Celeste said, "You couldn't, not again, it's been four ti...oh darling...ah...ah..." It took about half and hour, but this was love not raw lust, and why hurry over love? When finally they got out of bed to shower and breakfast they could see that they had all the time they could wish for. The rain had ceased and the sun was shining but the water was lapping at the base of the house veranda. "I hope they don't send a boat to rescue us," Adrian murmured. "You know," Celeste commented, "I haven't been here long enough to see it, but the older inhabitants say that although normally you can't see a single flower when it rains here the whole earth is a mass of flowers." "That's strange," Adrian said, I found one." "Did you, what did you do, paint it?" "I tried but somehow I just couldn't get it right so I plucked it," Adrian replied. Adrian never did finish the painting of Celeste, in fact it languishes to this day, leaning against the wall of his studio. He has however painted other pictures of her, in the nude. They sell remarkably well in the city galleries, and some viewers get the feeling that they have seen Celeste somewhere before. The more knowledgeable will say, "She looks remarkably like Freyja in that Rackham painting." But then, Celeste does look like Rackham's Freyja. Adrian and Celeste are getting married soon, and Adrian is wondering if portraits of pregnant Celeste will find a market.