time.
Jem lost track of Maggie until she rushed up to him. ‘Come here!’ she hissed, and dragged him away from the Lady Chapel to the centre of the Abbey and the Chapel of Edward the Confessor. ‘Look!’ she whispered, nodding in the direction of one of the tombs surrounding Edward’s massive shrine.
Mr Blake was standing alongside it, staring at the bronze effigy of a woman that lay along the top of it. He was sketching in a small sand-coloured notebook, never looking down at the paper and pencil, but keeping his eyes fastened on the statue’s impassive face.
Maggie put a finger to her lips, then took a quiet step towards Mr Blake, Jem following reluctantly. Slowly and steadily they rounded on him from behind. He was so concentrated on drawing that he noticed nothing. As the children got closer, they discovered that he was singing under his breath, very soft and high, more like the whining of a mosquito than of a man. Now and then his lips moved to form a word but it was hard to catch what he might be saying.
Maggie giggled. Jem shook his head at her. They were close enough now that they were able to peek around Mr Blake at his sketch. When they saw what he was drawing, Jem flinched, and Maggie openly gasped. Though the statue on the tomb was dressed in ceremonial robes, Mr Blake had drawn her naked.
He did not turn around, but continued to draw and to sing, though he must have known now that they were just behind him.
Jem grabbed Maggie’s elbow and pulled her away. When they had left the chapel and were out of earshot, Maggie burst out laughing. ‘Fancy undressing a statue!’
Jem’s irritation outweighed his impulse to laugh too. He was suddenly weary of Maggie – of her harsh, barking laughter, her sharp comments, her studied worldliness. He longed for someone quiet and simple, who wouldn’t pass judgement on him and on Mr Blake.
‘Shouldn’t you be with your family?’ he said abruptly.
Maggie shrugged. ‘They’ll just be at the pub. I can find ’em later.’
‘I’m going back to mine.’ Immediately he regretted his tone, as he saw hurt flash through her eyes before she hid it with hard indifference.
‘Suit yourself.’ She shrugged and turned away.
‘Wait, Maggie,’ Jem called as she slipped out of a side entrance he had not noticed before. As when he first met her, the moment she was gone, he wished she was back again. He felt eyes on him then, and looked across the aisle and through the door to Edward’s Chapel. Mr Blake was gazing at him, pen poised above his notebook.
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