That’s what her life had come to. She was lying to Duncan to try to get him out of the mansion. Lying to distract him while people used his home. Lying to the art college about Duncan wanting to lecture there. She’d also lied to all the people she’d fired when she’d written them severance cheques and told them it was from Duncan. She was a liar. That was who she was, and she was going straight to hell because of it.
Well, really, said a voice only she could hear, you only have yourself to blame. Gandalf the White appeared beside the easel and frowned over at her. You should tell everyone the truth. It will produce far fewer difficulties in the long run. I find that honesty truly is the best policy. Things seldom go well when you lie.
Thanks. Donna scowled at the imaginary figure as another appeared in the corner of the room.
Good Hobbitses are kind to their master, Gollum said as he crawled along the studio floor after some invisible prey. Good Hobbitses don’t tell them fibs.
You’re wasting your time. Hermione materialised behind the sofa. Donna thinks she knows best and refuses to listen to reason.
Donna glared at all of them. Why is it none of my drawings ever turn up to support me?
Ra-Ra. Go, Donna. A massive hand-drawn troll walked through the room carrying a cheerleader’s pompom in one hand while picking his nose with the other. Great, that was her support? Yay for her.
“Donna?” The only other real person in the room said, pulling her attention away from her imaginary judges. “Are you ok?”
“Yes,” she snapped.
“You looked like you zoned out there.”
“No. I’m fine.” Can you all just get out of here? she shouted in her head.
It was hard enough dealing with Duncan without having to put up with advice from imaginary characters.
Well, I never, said Gandalf, and he disappeared.
I know when I’m not wanted. Hermione followed him.
My precious, Gollum shouted and dove out of the room after his ring.
Yum, said the troll as he took his finger from his nose and popped it in his mouth. Then he disappeared too, leaving her blessedly alone to deal with her latest mess.
She forced a smile. “Where do you want me?”
His dark eyes pinned her with an intense look she couldn’t quite decipher. And then he blinked, and it was gone.
“Give me a minute,” he said and proceeded to tug the sofa in front of the windows that looked out over the driveway. “Okay,” he said, once he’d gotten it where he wanted. “Sit in the corner nearest the windows.”
He strode past her, lifted the barstool and positioned it facing the sofa, then he retrieved his
sketchpad and pencil and sat on the stool—with a clear view of not only the sofa, but of the driveway leading up the mansion.
Oh no, no, no, no...This would not do. The whole point of posing was to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t see the Women’s Institute arrive at the house. From this angle, there was no way he’d miss them coming up behind her.
“Are you sure about this?” she said. “The light will be behind me. Won’t that make it hard to see details? Isn’t this bad art practice?”
He cocked his head. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I know how I want to pose my models. The light is perfect.”
And so was his view of the driveway.
“I don’t like sitting in the sun.”
“The windows face north. There is no sun.”
“How about I sit on the stool, and you sit on the sofa That way the light will be behind you, and you’ll be able to see what you’re doing a whole lot better.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I can see what I’m doing just fine. If you’ve changed your mind about posing, say it. I’ve got some sketching I’d like to do in the garden anyway.”
And have him wandering around? Outside? Where he could see everyone, or worse, talk to them? No way.