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Sleeping teen kittenn gets taken by daddy 13 min Daddyandkittenn - You could not have conceived of her taking a lover. But she was taken by Clarissa's little girl. She spent hours on the internet and making phone calls, following every lead, and making trips to booksellers in New York and Switzerland. You don't own children, he'd say.

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The first copies of Alice's Adventures under Ground were published privately by Macmillan in Use of this site indicates your consent to the Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.

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Short Stories: Ridley's Daughter by Ailsa Cox

The first copies of Alice's Adventures under Ground were published privately by Macmillan in The author gave away fifty copies away. He believed that human beings were beasts driven by appetite; even artistic creation was a bodily function. If she was a pre-Raphaelite, she'd be Lizzie Siddal - a redhead, almost translucent, with pale, lashless eyes. Claire rebuffed Ridley for years. No one knew Ridley, or his work, as well as Muffin. The women Ridley favoured were generally the pre-Raphaelite type, over-ripe and statuesque, with dark flowing hair. Sometimes he even said she was named after Lucian Freud, that cold fish, just to tease her. He'd possessed them, and now he was giving them back to the world. Like one or two of the others, she still came round with her baby, and a few years later there was a second child. Ridley proposed that Clarissa be given power of attorney. Tatiana's first novel was on the Booker shortlist, while Cassandra was a furniture designer and Icarus a potter. According to Ridley, he never knew Lucia once had a friend called Claire. It was tainted by ownership. It was actually quite handy, having Clarissa on hand to sort out the minor details - the power of attorney having been quietly dropped - until Ridley's little girl started getting rather pushy, making claims on behalf of the child. He never needed to pursue them; they were drawn to him, and when there were recriminations he always pointed out that he never pretended to be other than himself. Did she really not know how disposable she was? In public, Ridley disavowed parental ties. Muffin was his wife because she was hard-headed and sensible and could manage his business affairs. But she needed the artist himself for an exhibition she'd organised in Dublin, the town where he was born. He was gone for six weeks. Yet he was loved devotedly. He also believed that we were at the mercy of cosmic forces, manifested through ancient spells and sacred texts; and that some individuals were able to channel those powers, either completely unconsciously or by force of will. Most of them had never sat down at a table to eat. His whole life was a series of projects, documented in drawings, notebooks, paintings and file cards. She loved the bright eyes and the squirrelling bodies of the little children. Lucia started calling round after school with a girl in her class called Claire; Claire knew all there was to know about handling dogs. In the end, she was palmed off with one of the original Clarissa paintings, completed not long after Ridley first laid eyes on her outside the library. Muffin was perfect for the job. These paintings could be a slog to finish, but they always sold quickly. Lucia's brothers and sisters were the only ones entitled to bear the Ridley name. Ridley never spent the night with any of his lovers. But Muffin kept applying on principle, and it was even beginning to look as though the city fathers might be swayed by Ridley's potential for attracting tourists. So it came as a total shock when she realised the 'little girl' Muffin referred to was someone she used to know. There could be no question of a half-educated girl having any understanding of what it even meant to have power of attorney, let alone the financial acumen to handle Ridley's complex tax arrangements. The rest were sent back because Tenniel was unhappy with the way his illustrations had been printed. In his absence, Muffin carried on much as normal, making arrangements, and forging his signature on the paperwork. Lucia's mother, Muffin, was legally his wife, though they'd never shared a roof together in the forty years since they met at art school. Many of them arrived at reception class barely able to talk or answer to their own names. If she understood Ridley half as well as Muffin, she'd know this portrait, far from being a triumph, signified defeat. Although on the whole he disliked travelling, Ridley often took impromptu trips. Just one of a kind - not the first, nor the last. At one time, when she was seventeen, with a job at Paws for Thought, her parents took out a restraining order, and if it hadn't been for Muffin he probably would have faced some very unsavoury charges. When Ridley asked his muses to pose, it meant he'd lost interest in them sexually. Sitting still and silent, they wouldn't pester him with their demands, and it was also a sop to their self-importance to be immortalised in oils. Walking Vincent, even off the lead, wasn't exactly difficult; he was so shy he'd never leave your side, cowering from any dogs who tried to socialise. He had patrons as far away as Tangiers and California whose doors were always open to him. Lucia never recognised 'Clarissa' in the series of spectral paintings, seemingly inspired by Munch. His great enterprise was the gathering of hidden knowledge, and for him the true meaning of art transcended craftsmanship. Ridley catalogued all his sexual encounters. There he'd be at his easel, dressed in a spattered blue shirt like the one Kirk Douglas wore in Lust for Life, surrounded by the paintings that he turned out so effortlessly. Ridley had a premonition that he would meet a violent death, and throughout his career was concerned that posterity would find everything in order. She had just discovered that Icarus was using heroin, and Sophia was at the start of her long succession of violent relationships. Raising ten children was part of that enterprise. She kept the accounts and she tended the flame, living frugally on benefits and later on a small allowance, devoting all her energies to managing the great man. There were rivals for his affection. Portraits mostly - not just of women, though these were his most famous. Only Lucia had chosen a more conventional career. All of his offspring were talented. He considered the process unnatural and vampiric. The pose that she held, proudly fertile, her thin breasts uncovered, brushing her hair from her face with a gesture that might be protective - Muffin herself had been painted like that. She taught at a school in a small town far away. She was entirely a dog person. He first spotted his new muse hanging round on the steps outside the Central Library on William Brown Street. Ridley kept a dog for a while, a nervy little whippet, discarded by one of his admirers, or maybe it just wandered in from the street. The faces of madmen and vagrants from his Dublin sketchbooks, and of his own children when they were young. Ridley had no idea who this girl was, but he knew where to find her, thanks to the school uniform. Lucia realised, through the Clarissa affair, that despite her cold eye for Ridley's failings, Muffin's life was nothing without him, and she loved her children only because they were his. Ridley despised the word 'love'. Ridley was not so famous that he could afford be reclusive. Muffin knew that she was cruelly deceived, and at first she just laughed at the silly fool, with her pitiful sense of importance. When Ridley made his proposal, Muffin's disdain for Clarissa turned first into exasperation and then into fear. He came back - just in time for the opening - claiming he'd forgotten all about it. Things were getting difficult for Muffin. To Ridley, painting was just a fragment of what he was about. Of the rest, book dealers know the whereabouts of them all, except one.{/PARAGRAPH} And Ridley appeared not to notice the girls. {PARAGRAPH}He called her Lucia after Joyce's mad daughter, or sometimes he said she was Santa Lucia, singing her song at the top of his voice whenever she stepped into the studio He never had problems telling them apart - Sophia, Maude, Cassandra, Sinbad, Costello, Tatiana, Hamlet, Icarus, Jezebel or the dozen or so children by the secondary mothers. Ridley never got state sponsorship. This little girl imagined that she had some sort of entitlement simply because she was pregnant. Out of those fifty copies, twenty-three were returned immediately. Costello was playing Horatio at the Old Vic. But she never disappeared completely. She made no comments about the naked women, the bubbling hookahs, the phone numbers scribbled on walls, the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, the row of human skulls and the extraordinary figure of Ridley himself. Muffin was not, at first, concerned. Lucia soon got bored but Claire insisted on keeping it up, building Vincent's confidence till he almost was the playmate Lucia had envisaged. And Ridley had been all for it, not stopping to think about the legal implications - but then he never did. They were not as good, Muffin thought, and Ridley agreed, as the sketches and phantasmagoria he completed in the fevered early stages of infatuation. She had dealt with much more tricky situations, the woman for instance who had wanted to commit ritual suicide in Ridley's studio. She considered herself a fortunate person. And for some inexplicable reason, Ridley was playing along. Figurative art was despised nowadays. She'd moved on to sixth form college and another best friend. Unlike Lucia's other friends, Claire took no interest whatsoever in Ridley. And then Ridley disappeared. Yet she could get the whole lot of them hushed and attentive, just for that one pure moment when she held the whole room in the palm of her hand. So far as Lucia could make out, that meant she would take over all Ridley's financial transactions, leaving Muffin with the responsibility for cataloguing the work and arranging exhibitions and shipping paintings abroad. How long was he keeping this up for, and why? And writing endless grant applications.
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