Chapter 1

The flight seemed so short. Not long after we had reached cruising height, we seemed to start our descent. I know that can't have been the reality, but that is what it felt like. My mind was in a whirl. I had an underlying anxiety about mum. She had been working crazy hours for years and now to do nothing, give up our home and not even have Lilith or me to look after. She needed the rest though. Then I had to look ahead. What was it going to be like with Mark and Jean. Would they expect me to clean the house and do the cooking as well as modelling. How on earth was I going to be able to sit still for hours at a time. I usually struggled to be still for minutes. Would they allow me to get a part time job. I would need to generate some money whilst I was there. What job would I be qualified for? Or could the professional modelling work out?

They had told us that they would meet me by the information desk. I hoped it would be Mark. I could remember what he looked like. The gentleman next to me, got my hand luggage down from the overhead compartment. I could have done it myself, but he was trying to be nice, so I smiled and thanked him. I followed the directions for the baggage reclaim, but had to stop on the way to go to the toilet. When I stopped, I'm pretty sure I caught that same guy, who was following behind me, staring at my arse. I'm not used to that. I guess that was something women have always had to put up with. If I am honest, when I had my crush, I tried to get to see as much as she had on offer, although I tried to be discrete.

I checked the mirror. Make up still good, check. Dress not too wrinkled, not that I could do much about it, check. Hair still OK, check. I almost forgot the reason I went in. Bladder emptied, check. I waited for my luggage. When it arrived, I started manoeuvring myself to get it, but another guy, who could see what I was doing, reached and grabbed it for me. Huh, this being a woman thing, had some advantages. So I smiled and said thank you again and headed off towards information.

I could see Mark there, but he was facing another direction, so he didn't see me until I presented myself in front of him and introduced myself.
“Hi Mark. I'm Jesse.”
“Hi Jesse.” He shook my hand. “Let me take that for you.” He then led me to the railway. He bought a ticket for me and we had to wait for the train to arrive.
“How was your flight.”
“Short. I feel like I barely had time to think before arriving. Everything is happening so fast.”
He smiled at me. “That's life, kid.”

The train arrived and we got on. I had never seen trains like this before. It was double storey. You got on and then had a choice to go upstairs or down to the different levels. It was a bit awkward with a case but Mark took control of that. After only a couple of stops we had to get off and change. Again after only a couple more stops we were getting out at Milsons Point near North Sydney. We then walked maybe half a kilometre to get to this rather large 3 storey house. Thankfully, Mark was manhandling the suitcase, it had wheels, but I was glad it was him rather than me. I guess, I am getting into this letting the man do the heavy lifting attitude.

The outside looked old, not very modern at all. The windows were all oldy worldy, like I sometimes saw on the TV showcasing British houses. Small panes of glass linked together with black lines. I could see the top floor had the most windows, but still in the same style. The inside, on the other hand, was immaculate. Almost clinical, spotless. The first floor was converted to an open plan design, with columns for support. So a large kitchen lounge diner. There was a beautiful staircase. There were a few other rooms that were closed. Mark was happy to show me the formal dining room, a toilet and a home theatre room with speakers in the ceiling and a projector with screen. The next floor was bedrooms and ensuites. Mark was telling me that originally it was a 6 bedroom house. 2 bedrooms on the 3rd floor, which they had converted to a studio, 4 bedrooms on the second floor, but they had lost one in the renovations, so that they had 3 bedrooms, all with ensuite. He showed me to the room they had prepared. It was white with more white. The curtains were a sort of net type material, but multiple layers, so it would mute the light, but not cut it out. White wardrobe, white drawers, white double bed with more white gauze enclosing it and white linens. The only non white feature was the flooring which was bamboo. The ensuite was a dark wood contrast. The floor was still the same light coloured bamboo, but the white sink sat on black granite and the cupboards had a walnut frontage. The tiles for the shower looked like dark wood. The fittings were all brass.

Jean was upstairs in the studio and would join us for lunch when she was ready. I got the impression that I was only to go upstairs to the studio when invited. I unpacked and hung up all the clothes I could. That didn't take me very long, so I wandered around in the rooms that he had shown me and had a look at the art work on the walls. I really wasn't educated regarding art. I didn't worry about who the artist was or the technique involved, I just wanted to know if I enjoyed the piece or not. I have to say all of it fitted its surroundings perfectly. In the formal dining area there were these paintings of people dining by candlelight. I particularly liked one where the background was a courtyard filled with cars, which this cafe faced and a couple were facing each other touching wine glasses together. And that was where they found me, staring at the painting and appreciating the feeling of contentment it generated.

“That was inspired from a visit to France. I think we were touring vineyards, tasting wine and ended the day with a lovely meal at a cafe.” Jean told me.
“It's beautiful and it gives me the warm fuzzies.”
Jean laughed. “I wish you could write my next review. Let's go and get some lunch and get to know one another.”

Jean was slightly older than Mark, and dressed a lot more casual. There was still a bit of paint in her hair, but with her warm smile, I felt welcomed. We walked to a small shopping area that had a food court at its centre. We had a casual stroll around the different stalls and each chose differently. I had a chicken parmigiana with chips, Jean had a curry and Mark had sushi.

“I'm afraid, neither of is much of a cook, so we tend to eat out quite a bit.” Jean commented.
“I can cook. I would be happy to. I can make up a list of the meals I can prepare and if you get the ingredients I will sort it out.”
“That is a surprise.” She leaned forward and spoke quietly so it would be difficult to overhear. “I thought girlhood was only a recent event.”
“True, but I have been cooking for years. Mum had to work a lot. It was easier if I cooked.”
“We have never done something like this before. Having someone stay with us. I had to have you. You really fired my brain up with ideas that I wanted to paint. I'm going to be blunt here.” She said, looking into my eyes. “I was expecting you having to stay with us to be a right pain, and yet, straight away, you want to make our life better.”
I wasn't sure how I was supposed to respond to that. I didn't want to be their servant, but I did want to fit in. “I have been told that I do great foot massages.”
“I'm sure you do. I wouldn't want you to touch my feet until after I had had a pedicure. I tend to get a bit focussed on my work and then neglect myself for a bit. I don't want to think about the state of my feet. How about we go for a pedicure together tomorrow?”
“Err... that sounds great.”
A good start, I thought. Mark seems a bit quiet, but Jean is full of passion and life. Both were nice.

Chapter 2

The rest of the day they pretty much left me to it. I made a list of meals I could prepare and ingredients. I ransacked the kitchen to try and find enough materials for that evening meal. That didn't take me very long. They were going to order out again, but I convinced them that I could make a good omelet. I was getting really bored and I had only been here half a day. I would need to talk to them about things to do. I wanted to go for runs and maybe join a library or something. A cleaner came in twice a week and the place was spotless so I didn't need to do any housework. Although I had left school early, I had been on top of all my homework and missing the last few weeks of term had been authorised without giving me any extra stuff to do. I needed some kind of part time work for when they didn't need me for modelling.

I spoke to them that evening, trying to get a feel for how I was going to fit in. They liked my cooking at least. They set me up online so that I could order the groceries and they would be delivered. Then we got into a discussion on art and how they were hoping I would fit in. Mark disappeared upstairs and Jean continued chatting with me.

“We have offered profit share a few times because I wanted to try a few things, but you are the first one to take us up on it. What do you know about my art?” Jean asked.

“Not a lot. All I can say is I like it. I couldn't tell you why.”

She took me to an amazing photograph of a pier with the sun setting. “This is one of Mark's. What do you think?”

“Beautiful. Truly beautiful.”

“But what emotions does it evoke.”

“I don't know, maybe, wonder at the natural beauty.”

“Mark and I always have this debate. He has this great ability to find the beauty in the world and capture it with his photographs. For me as an artist, I feel like it is missing something.” She then took me upstairs to her studio and showed me a picture of the same pier with a similar sunset but this time it had a boy at the end hunched over swinging his legs and next to him was a man holding a fishing rod casting it out to sea. They weren't a huge part of the picture but somehow that added to it immeasurably.

“I feel that you need human presence to give a perspective on a piece. From Mark's photo you can see a beautiful scene. From my painting, you can imagine being the boy at the end of the pier or the man fishing and that gives the whole thing more warmth. For me you need three things to be a great artist. You need to have the talent and skill to be able to paint what is in your mind's eye. A character flaw, being a perfectionist, and inspiration. You are going to be my muse, my inspiration. When I saw you, I immediately had ideas and that is why I wanted you here.”

“Umm. Thanks.” I think she was paying me a compliment.

“The problem with models is that getting paid is what it is all about. I am hoping that by doing a profit share, you can help me get what I want out of my inspiration with a different attitude. Sitting still for hours is not going to achieve that. No, what I wanted to try is to use Mark to help me capture my ideas, then print them life size and then paint them.”

“I will do my best. That does sound like I will have a lot of free time. I was thinking, maybe, I could get a part time job.”

“At the moment, I am just finishing a commissioned piece, then I will need your assistance. Hmmm. I will want you when I want you, but at the same time, there will be a lot of time when you are not needed. I will think about it. Maybe discuss it with my sister tomorrow.” We wandered back downstairs to the open plan area. I had heard Mark in his own part of the upstairs studio. He was clearly busy doing something else. “Tomorrow I have booked us in to my sister's salon for those pedicures. Marie wanted to give us the works, but I want that just before I am ready to paint you. I want to start with a portrait. I half want her to play with your make up. It will give me thoughts and get my creative juices flowing. The problem is, I need to get this commissioned piece finished first.”

I didn't really know what to say, so I went with “I'm in your hands.” She seemed a bit frustrated, but I think it was mainly that she wanted to get started but had to do other stuff first.

Mum phoned me that evening. I had texted her when I had arrived so she knew I had arrived safely, but now wanted the gossip of how my first day went. It wasn't a long conversation. I could report on the great living accommodation, but little else as yet. She was taking Lilith to the grands tomorrow, so she was unsure when or if she would be phoning me tomorrow. She was a bit worried about talking to me in front of granddad.

Today she had packed up as much of the house as she could. She had been assigned a one bed flat which was part of a retirement community and would be moving in in 2 weeks time. She had contacted the landlord and was trying to do right by him as much as possible. He had agreed to waive the fee for leaving the tenancy early if she kept the property in good condition. I think he was worried that she would trash the place, if she had nothing to lose. The bond would then be split between us and him depending on the arrears. When that happened she was hoping to put some money into my account. I reassured her that I was doing fine and there was even the possibility of getting a part time job.

The talk was pretty positive until the end when it was time to say goodbye. Then came out the 'I miss you' and 'I love you' and I am sure I heard crying before she put the phone down. We had arranged for all of my friends to Skype on either Saturday or Sunday morning, around 11 am so I had nothing further to do. Getting bored again I decided on an early night.

I had spoken to Jean about running in the morning and she had given me a key and suggested the track by the harbour bridge that went to Luna Park. So when I woke up early that is what I did. The sun was only just evident and there was more than enough light to see by. I started concentrating on where I was going, to make sure I knew the way back. When I got to the harbour bridge, I paused to enjoy the iconic scenery. Despite the early hour on a Saturday morning, I was not alone. There were other joggers, mostly with earplugs in and total focus on their running, and dog walkers. I stretched my legs and pushed myself until I had caught the runner in front of me. Not because I was interested in him, just because it was a challenge. Once I had achieved my goal, I slowed down, turned around and started heading back. I think the man thought I was playing with him. He turned shortly after I did and started chasing me down.

Then I was in a bit of a quandary. Did I let him catch me? I didn't mean any harm by catching up to him, maybe he would understand that and not make an issue, or do I increase my speed and not let him close. He looked a fit young man, maybe I didn't really have a choice, he would probably be able to catch me anyway. Whilst we were on a fairly frequently travelled track, I thought it best to stop and catch my breathe and see what he was going to do. I had been hearing the footfalls get closer and closer and didn't want him to chase me to an unknown part of the track.