Read Online The Harriet Bean 3-Book Omnibus by Alexander McCall Smith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alexander McCall Smith
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paint. His brush moved quickly, and every now and then he leaned forward and peered at one of the aunts.
“I hope that he doesn’t make my nose look too big,” I heard Aunt Majolica whisper to Aunt Japonica.
“And I shall be very disappointed if he notices that my left ear is bigger than my right,” whispered back Aunt Japonica.
The painter painted for several hours. By the end of that time, I could see that my father and the aunts were beginning to feel tired of standing still, and they were relieved when the painter told them that they could have a break. They went off to sit down, but a few minutes later he had them all back again, and he painted for the rest of that day without stopping.
At the end of the day, he stood back, inspected the painting, and then closed his paint case with a snap.
“It’s finished,” he said. “That’s it.”
This announcement caused a buzz of excitement among the aunts.
“I can’t wait to see it,” announced Aunt Veronica.
The painter shook his head.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,” he said. “I don’t want anybody to see it until the last of the paint is dry.” He looked at his watch. “And that should be at about three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“Then we will have an unveiling ceremony,” Aunt Majolica said. “We’ll all gather in the living room and the picture can be officially unveiled by …”
She looked around. Every one of the other aunts was looking expectant, hoping that she would be chosen for this important task.
“By Harriet!” concluded Aunt Majolica.
I was very excited to have been chosen to unveil the picture, and every minute betweenthen and three o’clock the next afternoon seemed to drag interminably.
When the time for the ceremony came at last, we all gathered in the living room. The painter had arrived as well, and he had moved the painting, still covered, into a prominent place in front of the fireplace. The aunts had been busy in the kitchen the previous evening, and the tables were laden with cakes and sandwiches. Even my father, who had looked rather strained since all his sisters had arrived, was smiling and rubbing his hands with pleasure at the thought of seeing the finished picture at last.
When everything was prepared, I was ushered up to the front of the picture. The painter stood beside me, and when everybody was silent he nodded in my direction. My heart thumping with excitement, I reached out and took the edge of the cloth in my right hand. Then, with a firm tug, I pulled, and the cloth fell away to reveal the finished picture below.
Nobody said a word. My father and all theaunts peered at the picture, their eyes narrowed, their mouths open, as they took in the details. Then, with a wail, Aunt Majolica broke the silence.
“Oh no!” she wailed. “You’ve … You’ve put the heads on the wrong bodies!”
What followed was very upsetting. The aunts all crowded around the painting and looked at it more closely. When they were satisfied that a mistake had indeed been made, they turned on the painter and began to scold him severely.
“You’ve painted Thessalonika’s head on my shoulders!” protested Aunt Japonica. “Look. That’s definitely my body and that’s undoubtedly her head!”
The painter’s jaw dropped and his mustache seemed to wiggle like the tail of a rabbit caught in a trap. There was really very little he could say to excuse himself, and he just had to stand there and accept his scolding.
“Well!” said Aunt Majolica at the end of it all. “That’s that, then. The painting is ruined. I will never be able to look at it again.”
“Nor will I,” agreed Aunt Veronica. “It’s totally spoiled.”
The painter, still looking very miserable, at last was able to summon up the courage to say something.
“Please forgive me,” he began. “I understand how you must feel. But I think I may be able to do something about it.”
“And what would that be?” demanded Aunt
“I hope that he doesn’t make my nose look too big,” I heard Aunt Majolica whisper to Aunt Japonica.
“And I shall be very disappointed if he notices that my left ear is bigger than my right,” whispered back Aunt Japonica.
The painter painted for several hours. By the end of that time, I could see that my father and the aunts were beginning to feel tired of standing still, and they were relieved when the painter told them that they could have a break. They went off to sit down, but a few minutes later he had them all back again, and he painted for the rest of that day without stopping.
At the end of the day, he stood back, inspected the painting, and then closed his paint case with a snap.
“It’s finished,” he said. “That’s it.”
This announcement caused a buzz of excitement among the aunts.
“I can’t wait to see it,” announced Aunt Veronica.
The painter shook his head.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,” he said. “I don’t want anybody to see it until the last of the paint is dry.” He looked at his watch. “And that should be at about three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“Then we will have an unveiling ceremony,” Aunt Majolica said. “We’ll all gather in the living room and the picture can be officially unveiled by …”
She looked around. Every one of the other aunts was looking expectant, hoping that she would be chosen for this important task.
“By Harriet!” concluded Aunt Majolica.
I was very excited to have been chosen to unveil the picture, and every minute betweenthen and three o’clock the next afternoon seemed to drag interminably.
When the time for the ceremony came at last, we all gathered in the living room. The painter had arrived as well, and he had moved the painting, still covered, into a prominent place in front of the fireplace. The aunts had been busy in the kitchen the previous evening, and the tables were laden with cakes and sandwiches. Even my father, who had looked rather strained since all his sisters had arrived, was smiling and rubbing his hands with pleasure at the thought of seeing the finished picture at last.
When everything was prepared, I was ushered up to the front of the picture. The painter stood beside me, and when everybody was silent he nodded in my direction. My heart thumping with excitement, I reached out and took the edge of the cloth in my right hand. Then, with a firm tug, I pulled, and the cloth fell away to reveal the finished picture below.
Nobody said a word. My father and all theaunts peered at the picture, their eyes narrowed, their mouths open, as they took in the details. Then, with a wail, Aunt Majolica broke the silence.
“Oh no!” she wailed. “You’ve … You’ve put the heads on the wrong bodies!”
What followed was very upsetting. The aunts all crowded around the painting and looked at it more closely. When they were satisfied that a mistake had indeed been made, they turned on the painter and began to scold him severely.
“You’ve painted Thessalonika’s head on my shoulders!” protested Aunt Japonica. “Look. That’s definitely my body and that’s undoubtedly her head!”
The painter’s jaw dropped and his mustache seemed to wiggle like the tail of a rabbit caught in a trap. There was really very little he could say to excuse himself, and he just had to stand there and accept his scolding.
“Well!” said Aunt Majolica at the end of it all. “That’s that, then. The painting is ruined. I will never be able to look at it again.”
“Nor will I,” agreed Aunt Veronica. “It’s totally spoiled.”
The painter, still looking very miserable, at last was able to summon up the courage to say something.
“Please forgive me,” he began. “I understand how you must feel. But I think I may be able to do something about it.”
“And what would that be?” demanded Aunt
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