Tobias-Sketches

A few quick sketches of Tobias Skinner, a character of mine who studies in Cambridge at the turn of the eighteenth century (the age of revolutions). He studies Natural Philosophy at Kings College, and lives in a rented flat with two friends; Paul Merridith and Christopher St. John Featheringstonehaugh-Wilson (Kit).

Kit Reflects On Love

Kit’s hands glided over the harpsichord. Tobias watched enviously as the tune danced out, a soft floating melody delicately drawn from the dark ebony keys.

“The thing about love,” Kit began, as his fingers teased the growing sound, “Is that, as the Bard said, it has its ups and downs, its exits and entrances.”

Tobias hung in the background, a thin dark figure staring eagerly at this world he could not join. A world of light and sound and colour, of softness and care.

Of money.

The tune glided out of the window and into the night.

Paul Has Another Encounter With The Landlady

Tobias returned home that evening to find an argument taking place on the stairs. The strident tones of the landlady echoed round the narrow entrance hall, rising over the faint toccata of Paul trying to explain himself.

“I’m not paid to deliver your letters Mr Merridith.”

“My dear Mrs Crupp, I must-“

“And you can tell your fancy ladies to meet you elsewhere. I’m not having that sort of woman in a respectable place like this.”

“I do apologise, but-“

“Ah, Mr. Skinner.” Tobias cringed back as she turned on him, “Your sister called earlier, left this for you.”

He took the envelope from her, blushing. He knew it contained money.

A Rare Moment When All Three Are Awake

They played duets sometimes, and Tobias sat in the corner of the room fascinated at the sound that sang from Kit’s harpsichord and danced from Paul’s flute.

“Tin.” Paul would say, grinning at the look of wonder on Tobias’s face. “Tin and ebony.”

“Badly tuned ebony.” Kit scowled and played a few desultory chords.

“They do the laundry downstairs.” Paul explained. By ‘they’ Tobias assumed he meant the widowed landlady, Mrs Crupp, although he was uncertain what that had to do with the harpsichord.

“Again?” Kit frowned at the sheet in front of him. “If we ignore the hideous tuning.”

The music filled the room. Tobias had never heard anything less hideous in his life.

An Informal Concert (To Which Tobias Was Not Invited)

The room was full of the rustling, scratching sound of too many people gathered together in one place. The music was punctuated by discreet coughs and scraping chairs as the audience tried to get comfortable after a rather large meal.

Kit was in the third row, his chin propped up on his hand as he gazed at the opposite wall occasionally stifling a yawn. He was not at his most attentive after eating.

Delia was standing at the back with her parents. Her breath rose and fell with the melody as, from the front of the room, Paul played love to her through the flute.

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More sketches will probably be coming soon. Maybe even with a bit of a plot. Reviews, comments and criticism are all very much appreciated.