Chance Forsaken

The moon filtered through the grimy window panes, that remained rooted in the pinnacle of the loft conversion. Spatters of rain could be heard beating incessantly against the glass, too high up for anyone to tackle to clean. This added to the comfortable atmosphere of a passing warmth from the fan heater, that danced across the room, as chatter reverberated off the thin walls.

"It often appears to me that you enjoy winding me up, now it would be nice if we kept the noise down just an ounce." The whole class proceeded to roll their eyes and continued with their weekly gossip. This was the second time that the teacher had ventured to suggest that his students were trying his patience. Not want for conflict, Mr Magoo would often try to make his statements forceful, without appearing forceful. Unfortunately this is one of the biggest mistakes a teacher can make, especially considering the pupils that Mr Magoo had to teach. It must be said that Mr Magoo was not as dozy as his name suggests, he really was quite interesting, not only did he have a keen intellect but he was also very attractive. However, no one could see his aesthetic qualities as he remained permanently huddled in a matrix style trench coat and a scarf that covered half his face. This created the strange effect of looking uncannily like the man in the 'Ambasaddeurs' painting by Toulouse Lautrec, but lacking the sense of direction and confidence that the man in the painting possessed. Instead, Mr Magoo seemed to wallow in a teensy bit of self pity and a dash of denial at his current situation, lacking all motivation to move ahead in his life.

"Mr Magoo, I can't seem to get the proportions of the man's bum right, a little help?" yes it was true Mr Magoo was definitely in denial.

Mr Magoo, or Edward as he was commonly known, had all but lost the will to live as he sauntered over to Alice to help her sort out her dodgy proportions. Edward had always excelled in life, not one of the most popular boys due to his shyness, but certainly one of the most talented, he was shipped straight from school to university where he received all the qualifications needed to begin a life full of possibilities. However that is where Edward hit a dead end. The 'wall' as it were. The opportunity of dreams had passed by his eyes and he had merely looked at it and walked away, turned his back on the doors laid wide open for him. He had been a quietly confident teen dreaming of success, but as soon as it was in his grasp he let it slip through his fingers, the biggest mistake of his life.

"Oh dear". Managing to stifle a bubble of laughter, that would most assuredly burst into hysterics at the sight of Alice's unbecoming painting, Edward managed to compose his face into a thoughtful grimace. "Well Alice I think we may have to start again on this one." Alice remained staring at Edward with an unimpressed face, one that Edward had been witness to countless times, it was a face that clearly said 'really?' so once again Edward gave in and allowed Alice to continue detailing her, and I quote "undiscovered masterpiece", as he wasn't in the habit of making old ladies cry. Yes that's right, old. Poor Edward of twenty and two years had the unfortunate task of teaching an evening class of pupils who could be at least half a century older than him. Not that he was complaining, he normally felt better at ease with older people. However, when he had to teach said people, it dampened his authority a considerable rate to know that his pupils had been roaming the world, and its art, a lot longer than he had.

Surveying his art studio, Edward felt a small blossom of pride. Concealed against the weather outside, this motley crew was a small and mostly friendly group, not counting Mr Samuels who was convinced that he was the next van Gogh and was on a whole level of his own. Other than that the room consisted of the infamous Alice, who was nearing her eighties but in perfect health. There were two women in their forties, Jane and Kara, who came for a chat more than anything else and acted more like teenagers than any of Edwards long ago girlfriends did. There were also a few other quiet types of various ages from 15 to 80, not forgetting May who dragged her 12 year old grandson, Toby, along each week without fail. All in all it was quite a pleasant job. But Edward knew he had far much more potential.

***

"Now have you packed enough socks," as always Edward's mum felt it was her mission to exceed the standard quota of socks in a suitcase, as far as she was concerned socks were essential.

"I don't need any socks", whispered Edward as he leaned against the door post, trying to fight the tears that were already stinging his eyes while he watched his mother bustle around his bedroom.

"What do you mean you don't need socks, you daft apeth. Paris may provide the romance but you must provide the right attire... it's no good...Edward?" Upon turning around Mrs Mary Magoo saw a sight that tore at her heart. Her Edward had slumped from his standing position to a collapsed heap on the floor, where he proceeded to emit a succession of anguished sobs. Normally Mary was a women allergic to displays of affection, however she felt her maternal instincts kick in as she joined Edward on the carpet, clutching him too her as an offer of comfort, only able to watch as her son fell apart.

After a few moments when the crying had died down, Mary ran her fingers through her son's fine golden hair and dared to find out the cause for the devastation in her sons eyes, "What happened?" The question hung in the air like a poisonous gas, smothering and offensive, dispersing throughout the room until it could no longer be confined within the four walls. Three words burst forth from Edwards lips "They left me."

***

Edward shook the memory from his head, it still never failed to upset him. There he was packed and ready to embark on a journey of a lifetime, and they had rung him up and said they were going without him. His best friends. It had all been arranged, the studio in Paris had all been set up, they were all going to make their fortune together and they had let him down. Since then he had lost faith in himself and others, even though he knew deep down that he was the most talented among his friends, which was probably the reason they had left him. Broken out of his reverie Edward heard a soft call from across the room. "Edward dear, could you help us sort out the final touches to our paintings."

Edward meandered his way through his pupils, minding not to catch Alice's watchful eye. As usual May and Toby sat in the far corner where it was easiest to block out the noise of the 'born again' women whose laughter rose above the quiet chatter. Edward had a soft spot for May and Toby and often enjoyed helping them, he sat between them and perched precariously on an old foot stool.

" How may I help you." Edward said as he passed a quick glance over their paintings. However, as expected there really was little to help with, both of them were indeed artistically gifted, May favouring a nice and simple watercolour of an attractive flower, whilst Toby had branched out to create a picture of a girl sitting in a cafe, the mood set low with the shadows Toby had added to surround the girl as she stared dreamily into her cup of coffee. "Ah, you seem to be improving every day Toby; however I'm intrigued, is she happy or sad?" Toby gave a grin and turned round in his chair to face Edward. "Both," he said, his smile brightening his features "she's nervous and excited; I was imagining that she was going on a journey to explore the world." Edward ruffled Toby's hair affectionately, "then why would she be sad if she's going on an adventure?"

Toby cocked his head to one side with a curious expression, one that children often give when they find they have a better insight into the workings of the world than an adult appears to have, "because you would be scared if you were going alone, I wouldn't want to go alone. Even to this art class as I've always had grandma to sit with me, but as mum says, "'sometimes you just have to take a leap to get to the next stage.'" Edwards face reddened in embarrassment. If a child aged twelve could see the need to extend oneself, then why had he not been able to. To plunge into the unknown, have an adventure, dare he say it, on his own.

May looked at Edward with a cryptic glance, almost as a mystic would, "have you ever leapt Mr Magoo?"

One could say it was an ounce of madness or the electricity building in the air from the thunderstorm, energy festering under the skin like sparks of magic. Although, most likely it was the wakeup call administered by a small pupil, whatever it was our heroic Edward Magoo found himself dialling a well rehearsed number as he settled into his cosy living room, " mum, I think it's time I bought some new socks."