It had been a busy but rewarding year for me.
My name is James Constable, and I am a painter. Of course with that name, everyone that I meet in the Art world asks if I am related to 'the' Constable. By this of course they are referring to the famous English painter John Constable. The answer to this question is that I simply don't know if we are related.
The name does have its advantages, though, and it has probably helped to launch my career as a painter. It started with my first exhibition, which was held just over a year ago, in the spring of 1932. My work was received most favourably, and I sold several paintings. But more importantly, I received commissions to paint portraits of several influential (and wealthy!) people, and I had been well paid for my services. But now it was the summer of 1933, the portraits had all been completed, and I was ready for a break from work.
Even though portrait painting was a useful source of income (even artists have to eat!) my real love of painting, like that of my namesake, was landscapes. I loved to escape from the confines of the studio and take in the whole kaleidoscope that Nature had to offer. So I had had an idea.
My father had been born in a village in Kent, but when he was about seven years old, his family had moved to another part of the country. I had never visited that village, but now I decided that I would go there for a holiday. Then I could combine a little landscape painting with some research into my family history.
It was mid-afternoon when my train arrived at my destination. It was quite a struggle to get out of the carriage door with my luggage and all of my artist's supplies. Luckily there was an inn quite close to the station and they were able to give me a room. I dropped my luggage in my room and set out to explore the village.
The village was pretty, almost quaint, with several interesting buildings that would make good subjects for painting. But I had come to paint landscapes, so I walked to the end of the village and looked at the surrounding countryside. And what a disappointment it was! While I had pictured rolling hills and tree-lined lanes, most of the land was flat and had been given over to agriculture. It was quite unappealing. There was, however, an ancient stone bridge over a small stream, next to a few trees, that would make a nice subject.
As I walked back to the village I noticed the church, and I knew that the church records would be where my quest for my family history must begin. So I decided that I would walk over and introduce myself to the vicar. He was a pleasant enough chap, the Reverend John Telford, and he most obligingly offered to help me search the records. We agreed to make a start the next morning.
The next morning I presented myself at the Vicarage as agreed. Reverend Telford greeted me cheerily, and we adjourned to a room at the back of the church where the records were kept.
Searching the records was an arduous task, as of course there was no index, and we had to examine each record of baptism and marriage individually. By noon all that we had uncovered were the baptism records of my father and his two brothers, and my grandparent's marriage record. I was just starting to get discouraged when there was a knock at the door.
The door opened, and in walked the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen. She was about twenty five, I guessed, and her skin was the exquisite colour of ivory. Her face might have been sculptured from the finest marble by Michelangelo. She had flaming red hair, which cascaded down over her shoulders, contrasting superbly with her skin. Her ample breasts pressed against the front of her dress. She was an artist's dream come true. And she was a woman who any man would want to make his wife.
"Luncheon is ready, dear," she said to Reverend Telford. And then she noticed me. "Oh, hello there," she said brightly to me.
"Mr Constable, this is my wife Alexis," said Reverend Telford by way of introduction.
"How do you do?" said the lovely Alexis, smiling at me.
"Delighted to meet you," I replied.
"Would you like to stay for lunch, Mr Constable?" Alexis asked me.
"I wouldn't want to be any bother," I replied.
"No bother at all," said Alexis.
"Then thank you, I would like that very much," I replied.
We all walked over to the Vicarage, and sat down and began to eat lunch. I had explained to Reverend Telford that I was a painter, and my search for a connection to 'that other Constable', and he told the story to Alexis. "Oh how exciting!" said Alexis. "To think that you might be related to someone famous. You know, I think that I read about your exhibition in London last year. I remember thinking how curious it was that you had the same name as a famous painter. Do you think that you will become as famous as him?"
I laughed politely. "I don't think that's very likely," I said. "I'll be happy if I can make a living from my work."
"Alexis paints, you know," said Reverend Telford. "Alex, you should show Mr Constable some of your work."
Alexis looked embarrassed. "John, I'm sure that Mt Constable wouldn't want to waste his time looking at my paintings," she said.
"I would be delighted to look at your work, Alexis," I said. "And please call me James. Perhaps we could do it later this afternoon, when we finish going through the church records."
"Thank you, James, that would be lovely," said Alexis, flashing her radiant smile at me.
We finished eating, and then Reverend Telford and I returned to the records room. By four o'clock we had found the marriage records of my great-grandparents, and we decided to call it a day. As we walked back to the Vicarage I was looking forward to seeing the lovely Alexis once more.
Alexis was waiting for us with what seemed to be a look of anticipation. "I'll take you up to my studio," she said excitedly. She led me around the back of the house to a building that used to house stables, but now only contained gardening clutter, and then up a ladder to a large loft that had been set up as an artist's studio. There was a large skylight that let in a northern light that made it an ideal place to paint. "But this is wonderful!" I said enthusiastically. "What a great place to work!"
"Yes, I love it here," said Alexis. "I can shut myself up here, away from the cares of the world." A brief frown formed on her face, but almost immediately she pushed it away. "This is what I'm working on now," she said.
She showed me an almost-finished painting of an elaborate floral display. It was very detailed, and her work really was very good. "But the flowers keep dying, and I have to try to replace them with others that are the same. So the painting keeps changing," she said.
"Alex, this is really good work," I said encouragingly, and she brightened up a lot at my complement. "Show me what else you've done."
