I felt quite excited. It had certainly been a stimulating afternoon.
Later that day Angele came to my room.
She said: “I wanted to hear what you thought about the visit to Gerard.”
“I enjoyed it. It was very interesting.”
“He worries me, really. I wish he would come home.”
“But you know how he feels about his painting.”
“He could do it at home.”
“It wouldn’t be the same. Here he is with those people. Imagine the cafe society … the talks … the aspirations and the rivalries … all his friends who understand what he is talking about. Naturally he is happier here.”
“It was different when his wife was alive. She could look after him.”
“He seems to manage very well with Madame Garnier.”
Angele made a contemptuous gesture.
“And there is that man living close.”
“He is certainly a character.”
“I suppose you know him quite well.”
“He has been a neighbour of Gerard’s for some time. He’s always been very garrulous when I have seen him … talking about himself most of the time.”
“Gerard has asked to paint me.”
“I know. I heard him. That would be nice.”
“Do you think so?”
“I am sure it would.”
“I said that, after all these revelations, I was put on my guard.”
“Oh, that was just idle talk. Besides, you have no dark secrets.”
“Still …”
“I think he could do a good portrait of you. Some of his are really quite beautiful.”
“He did a great many of his wife, I suppose.”
“Oh yes. She was his chief model. There are some lovely ones. It was a pity there was all that fuss about the one Lars Petersen did. I think some of Gerard’s were as good. It’s just a matter of what takes the critic’s fancy.”
“He did not show us any that he had painted of her.”
“No … I think he doesn’t want to look back on all that. It seems to be too recent … even now. But you must let him paint you.”
“I think it would be rather amusing.”
“We’ll arrange it. We have to come to Paris again. I can’t really leave the household much longer now, so we must get back. But we can come again … in a few weeks’ time. I’d come with you and you could go off to the studio every day. I expect he’d want to work in the mornings. The light is best then. Oh yes, certainly, we’ll arrange it. Say in about three weeks’ time.”
I began to feel quite excited by the prospect. I was really rather intrigued by the bohemian life. I found Gerard’s conversation interesting; and I was sure he had many friends as amusing as Lars Petersen.
When we arrived back at La Maison Grise, there was a letter waiting for me. It was from Lisa Fennell.
I felt uneasy when I saw her handwriting. I realized that the visit to Paris had helped me take a few steps away from the past. I had certainly been stimulated—especially by my meeting with Gerard and the glimpse I had had into his way of life.
I felt a sympathy for him. He had lost his young wife as I had lost the husband I had never had, so I felt there was a bond of a kind between us.
And now I was brought back with a jolt to that other world from which, such a short time before, I had escaped.
I took the letter to my room so that I might read it without interruptions.
My dear Noelle,
I have been wondering a great deal about you. In fact, I have never ceased to think of you since you left. How are you? I am sure you are feeling better. Robert is the kindest man I know, and you did right to go with him.
The show finished and it will be some weeks before we open with the new one. There is a place for me in it, Dolly has promised. Only in the chorus, though. I think Lottie Langdon is going to take the lead. I’m hoping to get the understudy. But at the moment I am resting.
What do you think? I went down to Leverson. I wanted you to know that I had been.
You see, there was a good deal in the papers about that discovery of the Neptune temple. Apparently it’s a great find and all that about how the landslide had revealed it made good news. I was quite fascinated, and I wrote to Roderick, saying how I should like to see it.
He came up to London. I was still working then and he came to the show. We had dinner afterwards. He seemed very sad. He wouldn’t talk about you, so we discussed this temple and he asked me down for a weekend, so that I could see it. I went. It was fascinating. I loved it all. I met that nice Fiona Vance, and she showed me some of the work she was doing. I had a most interesting weekend. Lady Constance was very cool towards me. Clearly she didn’t approve. I understand how you must have felt.
Apart from that, I enjoyed it very much. I became so interested in what Fiona was doing. She showed me how to brush off the earth and stuff from some of the drinking vessels, and I was ever so sorry when I had to go.
Fiona said it was a pity I didn’t live nearer. Charlie was there. He is very unhappy, too. I am sure you are never far from their thoughts.
Both Charlie and Roderick said I must come again. Lady Constance did not add her invitation to theirs!
Well, perhaps I shall go again. I do find all those Roman relics quite fascinating.
I am still at the house. Please tell Robert I feel ashamed about keeping on there, but I am so comfortable and the Crimps don’t really want me to go. They don’t like caretaking, as they say. They’ve been used to a household where things are going on. I know I don’t make much difference, but I’m there, and they are always interested in what’s happening at the theatre. So I just linger on.
Try to find out from Robert whether he really thinks I ought to go. But really, it does seem rather unnecessary and it means a lot to me to be able to stay here.
I expect I shall soon be working again. I hope so. I shan’t see any more weekends at Leverson in that case.
Well, I thought I ought to let you know that I had been there and seen them. Perhaps I’ll see you sometime. Are you making plans?
Oh, dear Noelle, I do hope that things will go right for you …
The letter fell from my hands.
So, she had been there. She had seen Roderick and Charlie and Lady Constance. They had been sad, she said.
Dear Roderick. What was he thinking of now? Would he forget me in time? I knew I should never forget him.
I found peace and a certain amount of contentment sitting in that studio, gazing across the city while Gerard du Carron worked on my portrait.
I seemed farther away from the past than I had been since tragedy had first struck me. It seemed as though once again a way of escape was opening out before me.
I was seated on a chair with the light falling full on my face while Gerard stood at his easel. Sometimes he talked while he worked; at others he lapsed into silence.
He told me about his childhood at La Maison Grise, how he had always loved to be in the north tower. He had sketched from an early age; he had been deeply interested in pictures.
“I used to study those in the picture gallery. I would be up there for hours at a time. They always knew where to find me. They thought I was a strange child. And then suddenly I knew I wanted to paint.
“Life was smooth and comfortable. My father was a quiet man… a fine man. I wonder what would have happened if he had lived. If … one is always saying if. Do you say it, Noelle?”