The Painter's Apprentice Read Online Free PDF Page A

brightly in contrast?
     She dipped the brush into the paint again, wiping surplus pigment against the rim of the pot. Brush poised, she leaned forward.
    ‘Stop!’ A large hand appeared over her shoulder and grasped her wrist. ‘Think very carefully!’
    Beth turned her head. ‘You startled me, Johannes!’
    ‘How many times must I tell you to consider each brush strokebefore you make it? When will you learn to listen to me?’ He snatched the brush from her fingers and threw it on to the table.
    ‘I
was
thinking!’
    ‘An apprentice does not argue with her master!’
    She took one look at his broad face, grey with fatigue, and knew there was no point in discussing the matter. Standing up,
     she stretched the stiffness out of her shoulders. Watery light filtered through the stone-mullioned windows into the rapidly
     darkening studio. Outside in the garden, frost tipped the clipped yews with silver and a blush of rose pink along the horizon
     warmed the pearly sky.
    ‘The light is fading,’ she said. ‘I’d no idea I’d been sitting here for so long.’
    Johannes stood beside her, his expression pensive. ‘Time passes quickly when the muse takes you.’
    Covertly, she studied his face. ‘Did the day go well for you?’ she asked.
    He let out a deep sigh. ‘Well enough. It is finished.’
    ‘Johannes, that’s wonderful!’ She had respected his desire to keep this work hidden from her until he was happy with it but
     it had been hard to resist lifting a corner of the muslin to take a peep. ‘May I see it now?’
    The oil painting, worked on an oversized canvas, was propped up on the easel. Johannes turned it to face the room and waited,
     watching her face.
    The painting depicted an exuberant seascape of military vessels, trading ships, rowing boats and yachts jostling for position
     in the mouth of the river, their sails billowing. Bright sunlight cast strong shadows and the brisk wind stirred the surface
     of the water into choppy waves. The decks of the ships were crowded with sailors and passengers, some waving and some climbing
     up the masts. Beth could smell the salt of the sea in the air and hear the sailors shouting as the sails snapped back and
     forth in the wind.
    ‘It’s magnificent,’ she said quietly.
    ‘I think so,’ he said, with no trace of conceit in his voice, ‘but I will study it tomorrow in the daylight.’
    ‘You should rest now.’
    He nodded. ‘And your watercolour, that is finished too. A good artist judges when it is well to stop.’
    ‘Yes, Master.’
    A smile flitted across Johannes’s face. Beth turned to look at his canvas again. ‘This is the most ambitious painting you
     have undertaken and it lifts your talent to a higher plane, Johannes.’
    ‘Neither of us knows yet of what we are capable. We must always strive to do better.’ Briefly, he touched her shoulder before
     turning to the door. As he lifted the latch he looked back at her. ‘Your holly watercolour …’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘It looks so real that if I touch its spiny leaves I might draw blood. For one so young you show much promise.’
    The latch clicked behind him and Beth stared at the closed door. A slow smile spread over her face.
    Later, after she’d cleaned the brushes and covered the paints, she made her way downstairs. Orpheus appeared from nowhere
     and padded along beside her.
    Preparations were being made for supper. Poor Joan and old Nelly Byrne sat together at the big kitchen table, peeling turnips
     and potatoes. Peg, misted in a cloud of steam, stirred a vast copper vat of hambones.
    ‘What’s for supper?’ asked Beth.
    ‘Same as yesterday.’ Peg peered into the depths of the cauldron. ‘I’ll have to add extra turnips to the soup again. I’ve already
     used these bones twice and there’s no flavour left in them.’
    ‘Can’t we get some new bones?’
    ‘The butcher won’t let me have anything else until we settle his bill.’
    Beth didn’t answer. The financial situation was