Free Rebel Sisters by Marita Conlon-Mckenna Page B

and studied some of her artwork, enquiring why she had chosen to apply to the Slade.
    â€˜I want to come and study here because I need to learn more if I ever hope to become a fine artist,’ Grace explained truthfully, trying to hide her nervousness.
    Miss Morison said very little and seemed to be far more interested in the samples of her work than in continuing the conversation. ‘For those who are accepted, the first term at the Slade begins in October and runs until Christmas week,’ she stated.
    â€˜When will I hear?’ Grace pressed, her voice suddenly quivering.
    â€˜I presume you are in London for the present? Where are you staying?’
    Grace gave the address of their hotel.
    â€˜Then you should hear in the next day or two,’ Miss Morison said, reaching to shake her hand.
    Walking back out across the quad, Grace lingered in the early-autumn sunshine, hoping fervently that she would be accepted to study here.
    Next day they visited London’s National Gallery and Mother talked about her uncle, Sir Frederick Burton, the director of the gallery who had enlarged it and purchased so many of the Old Masters that were on display. Grace was suddenly filled with a strange sense of belonging and of destiny, thinking of what her grand-uncle had achieved here in the heart of the British empire. Outside the gallery, which stood like a Greek colossus overlooking Trafalgar Square, Grace thought about how Sir Frederick had filled his life with painting and art and travel, and she felt immensely proud of all his achievements.
    Two days later, much to her relief, she got a letter to say that she had been accepted to study at the Slade. Mother congratulated her warmly.
    â€˜Grace, we must find accommodation for you immediately,’ she urged. ‘Somewhere close to the Slade.’
    Grace was delighted when they discovered ladies’ accommodation in a building at 113 Gower Street, which was practically across the road from the art school. It passed muster with her mother, and a number of her fellow fine arts students would be living there too. Her room was basic but clean and comfortable, and meals were provided.
    Ernest had booked tickets for them to attend
Peter Pan, or the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up
at the Duke of York’s Theatre – a big success for playwright J. M. Barrie. Mother had baulked when she first heard that the play was about children being spirited away to Neverland by a flying boy.
    â€˜Oh what a marvellous play!’ she enthused afterwards as both the play and the actress Pauline Chase, who played Peter, got a huge ovation from the stunned audience.
    â€˜I have never seen anything quite like it,’ Grace commented, her head filled with images and pictures from Mr Barrie’s wondrous drama.
    A few days later she moved into 113 Gower Street and was looking forward to starting her first term at the Slade.
    â€˜Grace, I do envy you,’ Mother admitted. ‘Studying at the Slade will be good for you. I always enjoyed my painting and art, but I never pursued it the way you have. I suppose marriage and family came first. Use this opportunity wisely, as you clearly have inherited the Burton talent and it is all so new and exciting for a young woman like you.’
    â€˜I will, and I promise to write regularly to you and Father.’ She smiled as Mother kissed her cheek and got into a waiting cab which would take her to Euston station.
    A frisson of excitement ran through Grace as Mother disappeared and she contemplated almost a year of freedom here in London without either a chaperone or her mother’s eagle eye watching her.

Chapter 14
Grace
    PROFESSOR FRED BROWN welcomed the large group of students to the Slade, many of whom, like Grace, were from the colonies and overseas.
    â€˜Each and every one of you sitting here in front of me has the potential to leave your mark on the world of art,’ he said, staring down at them. ‘Many of our