The Opal Desert Read Online Free

restaurant, she was stirred by his physical presence. His dark T-shirt stretched across his muscular chest and shoulders and was tucked into jeans, which were belted across his taut stomach. His arms were tanned and he wore an expensive watch. His conversation was erudite and his manners polished. The hardened calluses on his hands were the only clue that this was a man who indulged in physical work. He asked about her plans after art school.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Kerrie replied honestly. ‘I don’t know if I’m any good. And even if I have some talent, it’s not easy to make a living as an artist.’
    â€˜You’re right, it is very difficult to make it as an artist. You really have to believe in yourself, be prepared to make sacrifices and have a lot of luck. It won’t be easy for you, even if you have talent, and maybe you don’t. And maybe you’ll never know. You can only persist because you cannot live without art. Do you feel that way? There is always a price to pay so you should weigh up the risks before saying I want to be an artist.’
    Kerrie looked down at her plate of pasta feeling as though she had just wasted four years of her life. He reached over and covered her hand with his. ‘Perhaps you need a benefactor, a patron, like in the old days, or you could marry a rich man and indulge yourself.’
    â€˜Yeah, right. And that’s going to happen,’ retorted Kerrie, her face hot with annoyance.
    Milton removed his hand and shrugged. ‘All things being equal – love, passion, sex – it could be a perfect arrangement.’
    â€˜Is that how you got started?’ asked Kerrie crossly.
    Milton leaned back and looked at Kerrie in amusement and lifted his glass of wine. ‘Touché. You are right. I have been tactless.’
    Kerrie sipped her wine and gave an enigmatic smile. ‘Apology accepted. Anyway, what was your first job?’
    As they ate their dessert Milton talked of living in Rome and being apprenticed to a renowned sculptor who had modelled himself on Rodin and liked to sculpt classical figures. ‘I admire Rodin, but I didn’t see the point in trying to cast myself as a poor Australian imitation. But an apprenticeship is valuable. I learned skills, then I rebelled and began to do my own thing, which is as it should be.’
    â€˜But those skills you learnt came in handy, didn’t they? So I’m not wasting my time at art school.’
    â€˜Everything you learn you can use. It’s surprising where it can be applied. But what you must ask yourself is: why do I want to be an artist? how important is it to me? why am I doing this? For ego? Or for money and acclaim? If you never sell a painting, never receive any true praise, would you persist?’ He paused. ‘Sorry if I’m haranguing you.’
    Kerrie looked up from her plate and spoke firmly but quietly. ‘I’ll make it as an artist one day and I’ll make it on my terms.’
    He looked at her blazing eyes and smiled. ‘Good for you. I hope you do. Now, more coffee? A liqueur?’
    Kerrie shook her head. ‘No, thanks. It’s been a wonderful evening. You’ve made me think.’
    â€˜I have really enjoyed your company. No one listens to me.’ He smiled. ‘My daughters treat me like an old man and are really too young to understand my work.’
    â€˜Your daughters . . . are at school?’ asked Kerrie. She had no idea about their ages but Milton looked barely forty so they couldn’t be very old.
    â€˜The older ones are almost into their teens, but already they seem to be at that rebellious stage. I’m not around them as much as I should be. I always seem to be overseas now that I am starting to get commissions from other countries. Anyway, they think that I’m very uninteresting. Perhaps you can help me . . . “lighten up”, as they keep telling me.’ He smiled at Kerrie.