Shortly I would be unemployed. There were no work prospects for me. Clearly I had some talent and it was sensible to develop it. I had not apologised to my father for my harsh abuse and he hadn’t indicated in any way that he blamed me for it. But he was more affectionate and considerate with my mother and she was tenderer with him. He gave me his blessing and a rare kiss. I dressed in my one good dress, a chemise that came below my knees. It was factory made. Waistless, it looked like a nightie but it was the fashion. Amongst other women I might look unattractive but not odd. I took the train into the city and made my way along North Terrace to the imposing three-storey Exhibition Building with its ivy-clad walls and square turreted tower. It was the School of Design and Painting. I searched nervously for the entrance. My appointment with the principal was at two o’clock and in my anxiety I had arrived half an hour early.
