‘It is Therese’. She has a Berlin accent. Her attention is on Alexandra. ‘You are very pretty. And young.’
‘This is Alexandra.’
Therese is about twenty, with straight black hair drawn back from her oval face. She has light blue eyes. Her skin is pink and her hands are long. In her white undergarments, which are trimmed with peach-coloured lace, her figure is fuller than Alexandra’s and tends to puppy-fat. She has a large nose, prominent red lips, and a self-contained way of holding herself. She has small pointed breasts. I stipulated the colouring of the girl and the size of her breasts in my note to Frau Schmetterling. In this familiar ambience I become relaxed and my mood seems to be transmitting itself to Alexandra, who remains, however, a trifle ill-at-ease and begins to move around the room looking at pictures and ornaments. Therese hides her amusement. All three shadows are thrown onto the large autumnal flowers of the wall-paper. Alexandra is a little taller than Therese. Old Papadakis is scowling at me. ‘What is it?’ I ask him. ‘You should let me fetch the doctor,’ he says. ‘You are not in your right mind. You are weak. You should rest. You are overtaxing yourself.’ Is he trying to persuade me to dependency upon him? He cannot be genuinely concerned. I do not employ him for that. ‘Go to the village,’ I tell him. ‘Get me something with cocaine in it.’ He mutters in Greek. ‘The doctor will give me morphine,’ I say. ‘It will dull my brain. I need my wits. Can’t you see I’m doing something worthwhile again?’ I hold up the pages. ‘These are my memoirs. You are mentioned in them. You should be pleased.’ He comes forward as if to see what I have written. I close the cover. ‘Not yet. They will be published when I am dead. Perhaps when you are dead, too.’ Therese says to Alexandra: ‘Is this the first time you have been here?’
‘Yes,’ says Alexandra. ‘And you? How long have you worked here?’
‘Two years this Christmas,’ says Therese. ‘I was an artists’ model in Prague, for paintings as well as photographs. Will this be your first time?’
‘With a lady?’ says Alexandra. The rose silk hisses. ‘No. In a brothel, yes.’
‘And your first time with both a lady and a gentleman,’ I remind her gently.
‘Yes.’
An encouraging smile from Therese. ‘You will like it. It is my favourite thing. You mustn’t be afraid.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ said Alexandra removing her cape. She stares hard at Therese. ‘I am looking forward to it. The surroundings are new to me, that’s all.’ She keeps her distance from Therese, who makes a kind-hearted effort to be pleasant to her. In the past it was Alexandra who took the initiative with her schoolfriends. ‘What are you receiving for your services?’ she asks suddenly. Therese is surprised, answering mildly. ‘M’sieu has confirmed the usual arrangements with Frau Schmetterling, I think.’
‘Therese is on a fixed weekly income,’ I say. ‘It is one of the benefits Frau Schmetterling offers to those who want to work here. It is a form of security. Part of the money is paid directly, art is kept in a savings account.’