Chapter 40
Seven dresses, plus the Dolce Davina, Tuesday and Thursday; Friday and Saturday it’s my darling Natalia, and Sunday… I replenish my alpha energy. That way everyone has a part of me.’
‘Well,’ Anna said, ‘do your women have other “friends”? Surely that’s only fair.’
‘No, my dear,’ he said. ‘I give them plenty. They don’t need extra lovers.’
Anna liked him. He stroked her arm, disarmingly attentive, staring at her with a brazen intensity. She flushed.
Justin’s blood was up. ‘Okay, Nicolai, that’s enough,’ he snapped.
The red wine had coursed through his veins. He banged his fist on the table so hard that his coffee cup jumped, spraying brown liquid on his neighbour, Frances Nestor, editor of Art World . Justin looked flustered and apologised.
‘No matter,’ Frances said. ‘Remember that Nicolai flirts with everyone.’
Nicolai threw back his leonine head and laughed. ‘Come, let us raise a glass to love: L’amour! ’
Justin caught his wife’s eye. ‘ L’amour ,’ he chorused with the other guests and, knowing that a jealous man can go too far, he blew her a kiss.
***
‘Where’s the housekeeper?’ Sophie said. ‘I’ve got a couple of things that need ironing.’
‘On holiday,’ Anna replied.
‘Oh no! I can’t iron, I’m left-handed.’
‘So send it to the cleaners. Sophie, you’re going to have to pull your weight here. Surely you can make your own bed.’
‘Yes…’
‘And we can clean the house together.’
Sophie’s eyes scanned the vast expanse of marble floor. ‘Can’t we hire a replacement just for this week?’
‘No, we can’t.’
‘I thought I was here to paint.’
‘You are indeed,’ Anna said, ‘but without staff you really can’t expect me to do everything? Tell you what, you cook and I’ll clean.’
‘But not every day? We’ll be going to some restaurants, won’t we? And one day we should go to the beach, just for a break… Oh, by the way, on Tuesday we’ve been invited…’
‘Now listen, Sophie,’ Anna interrupted, ‘you have a week to create the illustrations. You’re being paid royally and I expect you to do a fabulous job. Because, if you don’t, I won’t use you again, even if you are my sister. Do you understand?’
There was a steel glint in Anna’s eyes that Sophie hadn’t seen before. It made her anxious.
‘Is that clear?’ said Anna. Her voice had an unpleasant sharpness.
It set Sophie’s teeth on edge like a squeaky chalk on a blackboard.
‘Well, we’ve been invited by the Grants to have dinner at their house on Tuesday… and of course they would love you to come too,’ she added, giving Anna her best smile.
‘Are you mad?’ Anna replied. ‘Why on earth would I dine with someone who double-crossed my husband? Have you lost your mind, Sophie?’
‘Well, I’m going,’ she said defiantly.
‘No, you’re not.’
‘Yes, I am. And tell you what, if you don’t like it, I’ll go and stay at a hotel.’ Sophie started to cry – and couldn’t stop.
Anna softened. ‘Okay, okay, calm down. I know it isn’t easy being alone.’ Anna hugged her. ‘This is a great opportunity for you. You’re a very gifted artist and you’ve been playing at it for too long. Now stop your tears and let’s get something to eat.’
When Damien rang, Sophie was on the balcony, drawing.
‘Shall we FaceTime, or are you still in bed?’ he said.
‘You must be joking. I’ve been up since seven, working. Go ahead.’
He flipped over from audio to visual. ‘That’s better. So, no fun?’
‘Well, had a little trip to the art shop in Vence, but that’s about it.’
‘I thought you were meeting the Grants?’
‘Nope. Anna went apeshit so I thought I’d better give it a miss. Anyway, how’s you?’
‘Just fallen in love again.’
‘Oh, who?’
‘With myself.’
‘How are you doing, Sophie?’ Anna called from the stairs. ‘I’m bringing up your coffee and croissant.’
‘I’d better go,’ said Sophie hastily.
‘Why the rush?’
‘The prison guard is bringing up my tray of vittles.’
‘Oh dear, is it that bad?’ Damien said.
‘Not great. She doesn’t want me to have any distractions. Especially you.’
‘But why?’
‘Because she seems to think that we’re having an affair.’
‘So what? She’s married.’
Sophie laughed. ‘I really can’t believe you’re that naive.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Can’t you see? All she and Justin talk about is her career. It’s more of a business arrangement. At least for Anna. Wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to sleep with you again.’
‘Would that upset you?’
‘I’d have to think about that,’ she said. ‘I do feel very close to you. Anyway, let me go or she’ll lock me up in solitary confinement for the rest of the week,’ and Sophie hung up the phone.
It was a very luxurious house arrest, despite Sophie’s protestations. She looked around her charming Provencal room – soft hues of white, cream and beige, a huge bed with a woven Berger headboard and, above it, a gold-framed mirror reflecting a fine painting of pink roses in a crystal vase.
On the dressing table, beside the French window, a little glass jar of jasmine and lavender sprigs filled the room with a fresh, clean scent.
A shaft of early morning sunlight streamed through the voile curtains and caressed her cheeks. And that pink stone terrace, overlooking the glorious bay… Yes, if only… just for a few hours… Maybe lunch at La Colombe d’Or, the fabulous hotel in St Paul with its art collection and glamorous guests, and who knows… ?
‘Good morning.’ Anna peeped round the door. ‘Didn’t you hear me knock?’
‘Sorry, I was on the terrace, drawing.’
‘Oh, were you? I thought I heard you laughing.’ Anna spied the easel through the curtains. ‘Good to work early, isn’t it? I usually start writing at six. Shall I put your tray outside?’
‘Yes, please,’ Sophie replied.
‘So, were you chatting to someone?’
‘Yes, Damien rang.’
‘Oh yes. And how was he?’ Anna’s voice had that sharp edge again. ‘I really think that you should concentrate on your illustrations.’
‘I am.’ Sophie took the tray and put it on the bistro table by the easel.
‘Can I see what you’ve been doing?’
‘Not yet. This afternoon – when I’ve completed it.’
‘Well, you’d better get that fire burning. You have four more days to finish the other images and you still haven’t shown me the first one.’
‘Okay, okay, I’ll bring it out to you.’
Anna sat in the wicker chair and waited. Yes, she really needed to see the work in progress. She really needed to make sure Sophie was on the right track.
Anna clenched the arms of her chair and straightened her back as if she were about to take off into space. She must give her confidence. Do for Sophie what Damien did for her.
Ever since her affair with him, she had never felt the same about herself. Not even Justin gave her that sense of self-worth. Yes, her husband was pleased to do deals on her behalf, but Damien… Well, he had been the greatest cheerleader and an extraordinary teacher.
‘Your imagination is trapped, spinning in your mind. Free it. Stop thinking. Let the words out. The night is best – no distractions. Remember, the writer Saul Bellow said, “You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write”.’
He had touched her with his words. She loved him for that.
But now she was married he never picked up the phone, asked her how she was. How she envied Sophie.
‘Here we are.’ Her sister stepped out onto the terrace and placed the illustration on the easel. ‘What do you think?’
Anna scanned the pen and ink lines of a young boy standing by the window gazing at the moon.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘it’s good. The profile of a child with a teddy bear is beautifully drawn, a universal image. However’ – she hesitated – ‘the children of today are used to seeing stylised images, more modern. Single lines… Have confidence. Commit yourself to the first line you draw. But I love the colourscape – magenta, blue and yellow.’
‘So you want me to do it again?’ Sophie asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. It’s your call.’ Sophie’s lips curled into a hurt pout. All that work and now she wouldn’t have time for a morning swim.
‘You have great talent,’ Anna said. ‘Serve the story. Remember it’s sci-fi so you don’t need all those background scratches. And the moon, it’s a symbol – a fluid circle, a tint of lemon…’
‘Right, then. I’d better get on with it.’ Sophie whisked the drawing off the easel and clipped another sheet of paper to the board.
‘Have your breakfast first.’
‘Anna, it’s one thing for you to make sure that I produce what you want, but please don’t tell me when to eat. I am not a child.’
Anna laughed. ‘Quite right,’ she said. ‘Sorry if I’ve ruined your appetite.’
***
That afternoon, Anna returned and there it was. The first image. Clean, stylish, the boy and the teddy magicked up by a swish of the pen. The sweet nose, the chin tilted to the moon.
‘Sophie! That’s perfect!’ she said. ‘Exactly what I wanted. You’re a star.’
‘That’s good. And here,’ Sophie handed her the drawing, ‘is the other illustration I started this morning.’
Anna was enchanted. Abba de Giggler in all his glory, arms outstretched, a laughing Buddha.
‘Yes, yes. That’s my hero.’
And so the week progressed. Sophie forgot about distractions. Her drawings came first, punctuated by a swim or a meal. In the evening, she and Anna sat together listening to the cicadas.
No need to speak. They sat gazing at the night sky. Finally at peace with each other.