then continued.
‘This was the first time Ralph had seen it, although I’d talked to him about it. As he looked at it he said that it was clearly very good and added that he’d ask our neighbour, Hugh, who worked at Sotheby’s, to take a look at it. So a few days later Hugh came round, and he said that the reason it was unsigned was because it was probably a model for a larger painting. He was almost sure that it was by Guy Lennox, who had been a successful portraitist in the twenties and thirties. Ralph asked Hugh about its possible value and I remember feeling alarmed because I knew that I could never part with it – especially as I was now mother to two little girls myself. And this made me feel that that was what had first drawn me to the picture; when I was pregnant I was sure that I was going to have another daughter– and I did. Anyway, I was very relieved to hear Hugh say that the picture wouldn’t be worth a huge amount, because Lennox was simply a good figurative artist, painting portraits to commission. And I was about to put the girls to bed when he added that his uncle had known Lennox well; he remembered him saying that Lennox had had a sad life.
‘Really?’
‘Hugh said that he could find out more about him, if I was interested – which I was. So he showed his uncle the painting on a visit to him in Hampshire not long afterwards. When Hugh brought the painting back a month later, he confirmed that it was by Guy Lennox, whose life story he now knew. He told us that he was born in 1900, had fought in the First World War, but had been badly gassed at Passchendaele and was sent back. While recuperating, he’d taught himself to paint, and after the war he went to the Camberwell School of Art – which is where he met Hugh’s uncle. He then decided to specialise in portraits and so in 1922 he went to study portraiture at the Heatherly School of Fine Art in Chelsea. I’m sure you know it.’
‘Yes – very well; I used to teach at Heatherly’s.’
‘While he was there, Guy fell desperately in love with one of the models – a beautiful girl named Edith Roche. His parents tried to discourage the relationship but in 1924 Guy and Edith were married at the Chelsea Town Hall. In 1927 they had a baby girl, followed fifteen months later by another. By this time Guy was becoming successful, fashionable even. He was much in demand, painting anyone who was “anyone” – literary and political figures, and members of the aristocracy. He becamea Royal Academician, and was able to buy a house in Glebe Place with its own studio. His life seemed gilded – until the day he was commissioned to paint a man called Peter Loden…’ Iris fell silent.
‘So… who was Peter Loden?’ I asked after a few moments.
Iris blinked, as if surfacing from some dream. ‘He was an oil trader,’ she replied. ‘He was very rich – he’d laid the first pipeline to Romania. He had a huge house just off Park Lane; it was like something out of the Forsyte Saga ,’ she added absently.
‘How old was he?’
‘Thirty-eight – still a bachelor – and quite a ladies’ man. In May 1929 he won a Conservative seat in the general election and, to celebrate, he asked Guy Lennox to paint his portrait. He liked the painting so much that he decided to hold an official unveiling for it. So in the September of that year he held a lavish party, to which he invited le tout monde . He also invited Lennox – and his wife: and when Peter Loden met Edith…’
‘Ah…’
‘He was absolutely infatuated with her beauty: she was flattered to have the attentions of such a rich and powerful man. Soon everyone knew that Edith Lennox was involved with Peter Loden; worse, Guy had to carry on working, knowing that the society figures he painted were gossiping about his wife.’
‘How horrible for him.’
Iris nodded. ‘It must have been agonising. And it was to have a devastating effect on his life, because within three months Edith had
‘This was the first time Ralph had seen it, although I’d talked to him about it. As he looked at it he said that it was clearly very good and added that he’d ask our neighbour, Hugh, who worked at Sotheby’s, to take a look at it. So a few days later Hugh came round, and he said that the reason it was unsigned was because it was probably a model for a larger painting. He was almost sure that it was by Guy Lennox, who had been a successful portraitist in the twenties and thirties. Ralph asked Hugh about its possible value and I remember feeling alarmed because I knew that I could never part with it – especially as I was now mother to two little girls myself. And this made me feel that that was what had first drawn me to the picture; when I was pregnant I was sure that I was going to have another daughter– and I did. Anyway, I was very relieved to hear Hugh say that the picture wouldn’t be worth a huge amount, because Lennox was simply a good figurative artist, painting portraits to commission. And I was about to put the girls to bed when he added that his uncle had known Lennox well; he remembered him saying that Lennox had had a sad life.
‘Really?’
‘Hugh said that he could find out more about him, if I was interested – which I was. So he showed his uncle the painting on a visit to him in Hampshire not long afterwards. When Hugh brought the painting back a month later, he confirmed that it was by Guy Lennox, whose life story he now knew. He told us that he was born in 1900, had fought in the First World War, but had been badly gassed at Passchendaele and was sent back. While recuperating, he’d taught himself to paint, and after the war he went to the Camberwell School of Art – which is where he met Hugh’s uncle. He then decided to specialise in portraits and so in 1922 he went to study portraiture at the Heatherly School of Fine Art in Chelsea. I’m sure you know it.’
‘Yes – very well; I used to teach at Heatherly’s.’
‘While he was there, Guy fell desperately in love with one of the models – a beautiful girl named Edith Roche. His parents tried to discourage the relationship but in 1924 Guy and Edith were married at the Chelsea Town Hall. In 1927 they had a baby girl, followed fifteen months later by another. By this time Guy was becoming successful, fashionable even. He was much in demand, painting anyone who was “anyone” – literary and political figures, and members of the aristocracy. He becamea Royal Academician, and was able to buy a house in Glebe Place with its own studio. His life seemed gilded – until the day he was commissioned to paint a man called Peter Loden…’ Iris fell silent.
‘So… who was Peter Loden?’ I asked after a few moments.
Iris blinked, as if surfacing from some dream. ‘He was an oil trader,’ she replied. ‘He was very rich – he’d laid the first pipeline to Romania. He had a huge house just off Park Lane; it was like something out of the Forsyte Saga ,’ she added absently.
‘How old was he?’
‘Thirty-eight – still a bachelor – and quite a ladies’ man. In May 1929 he won a Conservative seat in the general election and, to celebrate, he asked Guy Lennox to paint his portrait. He liked the painting so much that he decided to hold an official unveiling for it. So in the September of that year he held a lavish party, to which he invited le tout monde . He also invited Lennox – and his wife: and when Peter Loden met Edith…’
‘Ah…’
‘He was absolutely infatuated with her beauty: she was flattered to have the attentions of such a rich and powerful man. Soon everyone knew that Edith Lennox was involved with Peter Loden; worse, Guy had to carry on working, knowing that the society figures he painted were gossiping about his wife.’
‘How horrible for him.’
Iris nodded. ‘It must have been agonising. And it was to have a devastating effect on his life, because within three months Edith had
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