“We don’t know,” replied my father.
“The verdict was accidental death.
It’s better to leave it like that for everybody’s sake. “
I nodded.
Clare was quietly crying.
I leaned over and touched her hands. She turned her swimming eyes to me.
“She was my special friend,” she said.
“They both were … but I think Faith specially … more than Hope. It was terrible.”
There was silence at the table. Then my father said: “I wonder what she would have done when Hope married.”
“Poor Faith,” said Clare, ‘she would have been lost without her sister. ”
My father sought to change the subject which so clearly upset Clare. He said: “Kate has had a wonderful offer. Someone she met in Paris has offered to rent her an apartment in the heart of Paris.
There is a studio and everything that is necessary for her work. She can take it for a while and see how things work out. Commissions at the moment are rolling in. “
Clare was smiling at me.
“Oh, Kate. I’m so happy for you. It is wonderful how everything is turning out for you. I love to hear about that party when that … what was he … Baron or someone .. told them all what a great artist you are.”
“It’s not more than she deserves,” said my father.
“How will you like living in a foreign city … away from everyone?” asked Clare.
“I shall miss you all,” I told her.
“But I shall come home when I can.
And it seems to me the right. the only thing . to do. “
“Let’s drink to Kate’s success,” said Clare.
The tears for Faith were still in her eyes as she lifted her glass.
I often thought how much I owed to Nicole.
She was practical in the extreme and as soon as I returned to Paris to the house of the Regniers my next commission-I went to see her.
“Well?” she said.
But I didn’t have to tell her. She knew. She put her arms round me and held me close to her for a moment.
Then she said: “Now we start to plan.”
After that I saw her almost every day. There was so much to talk about, so much to arrange. It was immediately decided that the attic should be my studio, and that I should have a room in which to receive people and discuss appointments and terms. We should share the salon and I should have a bedroom next to the attic.
“There is a suite of rooms up there,” she said, ‘and you can have those when the baby arrives. They’ll be suitable for the first few months anyway . until the child begins to walk. “
She had worked out everything. I must, of course, remain Kate Collison. But instead of being Mademoiselle I should become Madame. We could have a vague story in the background about a husband who had unfortunately died.
“The tragedy is fairly recent,” she explained, ‘so we do not wish to discuss it. It is too painful. You retained the name of Collison because it means a great deal in the art world and you are carrying on the family tradition. ” She paused and then went on: ” As soon as the present commissions are completed you will expect clients to come to the studio to be painted. In the meantime we will prepare it and make sure it is all that it should be to accommodate a fashionable and famous artist. You can go on painting right until the last month, I should think. In any case we can see about that when the time comes. I shall engage a midwife who I know is efficient in her job and does in fact attend the nobility. In the meantime we shall prepare for this infant. We shall have everything of the best for it.
Leave that to me. “
“I want to be careful with money,” I insisted.
“I know I am highly paid now and I have saved quite a bit. But I have the future to think of.”
“The future is assured if you will let it be. You have to act like a great artist. That is of the utmost importance. Money affairs are mundane matters. They should not concern you overmuch. You are deeply interested only in art. I think we are getting everything arranged nicely. All we have to do now is to await the birth and in the meantime go on painting and piling up the shekels.”
“Nicole,” I said one day, ‘why are you doing all this for me? “
She was silent for a moment. Then she said: “Friendship.” And after another pause: “I’m doing it for myself in a way. I was lonely. The days seemed so long. They don’t any more. I always wanted children. “
“Do you mean … his … ?”
“Well,” she said, ‘it wouldn’t have been possible. He didn’t want a wife then. He wanted a mistress. “
“And, of course, he thought only of himself, as always.”
“I never told him I wanted children.”
“He might have guessed that any woman would.”
“Not my sort of woman.”
“How can you talk of sorts of women! They are all individuals … no two alike.”
“No, perhaps not. But we can be roughly sorted into types. I mean, the women who choose the way of life I chose do not usually want children.”
“That way of life was chosen for you.”
“Well, most of us have something chosen for us. It is the bold ones who break away. No. I must be fair. I accepted that way of life because it was amusing and interesting. I had tried respectability, hadn’t I, and I knew it wasn’t for me.”
“Nicole, I fancy I’m growing up fast, through you.”
“I’m glad to be of help and what I wanted to say is that it is no use blaming anyone for what we are. It’s in our hands.”
‘“Not in our stars but in ourselves …” I quoted.
“Oh yes, I see that.”
“And we should be lenient in our judgement of others.” She looked at me almost appealingly.
“The way in which we are brought up does affect our lives. You see, in my case, I was made to see a great deal that was desirable in pandering to the pleasure of someone who could give me a secure future. It’s like many people’s approach to marriage in a way. Think of all those fond Mammas parading their daughters for the highest bidder, one might say. It was the same with me. More honest in a way. I had to give more in return for what I received. I had to continue to please.” She laughed at me.
“It sounds immoral, doesn’t it, to one who has been brought up carefully in a pleasant household. But you see, heredity and upbringing have made you a painter; the same thing has made me a courtesan. “
“They made you clever, understanding and kind, and I’m grateful to you, Nicole. In fact, I don’t know what I should have done without you.”
“Well, it is not all for you. I was lonely. I wanted an interest. Oh Kate, I am looking forward to our baby.”
“Nicole, so am I. So am I!”
On another occasion she said: “You don’t feel so vehement about him now, do you?”
She nodded.
“I hate him as intensely as ever.”
“You mustn’t.”
“I couldn’t stop myself if I tried. I shall always hate him.”
“You shouldn’t. It might be bad for the child. He is the father, remember.”
“I wish I could forget that.”
“Try to understand him.”
“Understand him! I understand him too well. He’s a throw-back to the age of barbarism. He has no place in a civilized world.”
“He used to talk to me about his childhood sometimes.”
“I am sure he was the most horrible child who tortured little animals and tore the wings off flies.”
“No, he did not. He was fond of animals. He loves his dogs and horses.”
“Was it really possible for him to love anything besides himself?”
“Now you are working yourself up and as I told you that’s bad for the child.”
“Anything connected with him is bad for everyone near him.”
“But he is the child’s father.”