Page 15 of The Masterpiece
Chapter Fourteen
Eve
Paris, June 1946
The morning after the Fouquets’ ball, I sat in front of Marthe de Villiers, Madame Fouquet and Lucile like a doomed aristocrat before the Revolutionary Tribunal. And like those hapless victims of the past, I too knew that it was a mere formality and that my fate was already sealed, no matter the evidence presented or the pleas made.
‘What a scandal!’ said Madame Fouquet with a shiver full of repugnance. ‘And in my home! The one I welcomed this young woman into as a complete stranger in a spirit of generosity. Why, I heard that young Hubert Thirard was so taken with her that he asked his mother for permission to court her. It’s one thing for her to have led a doddery old man astray... but to have almost destroyed that young man’s future is unforgivable.’
Marthe stopped weeping her false tears for a moment and frowned. ‘My husband is a hero of Verdun , Edith,’ she said. ‘It’s taken me years to nurse him back to a state of equilibrium since he received that terrible injury in the service of France. Then this woman destroys all my efforts for her own personal gain.’
Although they had formed an alliance, it was obvious that Marthe and Madame Fouquet were not friends. They were united in their ambition to keep certain people out of their circle of society. I was sure that if Lucile’s friends had known about Cyrille’s previous pursuits of young women, then Madame Fouquet would certainly have known too. It was not my having been caught in a compromising position with Cyrille that irked her, but that her ball had been infiltrated by someone who was of an ‘inferior’ class.
The only one who could save me was Lucile. If she would address the difficulty with a firm hand, the other two women would have to back down. But when I tried to catch her attention, she stared at her coffee cup, which Madame Fouquet promptly filled. Without my guidance, she seemed to have turned into a lump of dough, entirely unable to direct her own thoughts and therefore was easily led by Marthe and Madame Fouquet.
‘It’s a terrible shock, my dear,’ Madame Fouquet said to Lucile, ‘to be treated so terribly by someone you were only trying to help. But young women like that never change. You should never let servants get the upper hand.’
The word ‘servant’ hit a nerve. They might have been richer and more powerful, but I wasn’t going anywhere quietly.
‘Lucile,’ I said, ‘you must know that I would never have anything to do with Cyrille de Villiers. The man is completely odious. He launched himself at me . Marthe set us up.’
‘Oh, the cheek!’ said Marthe. ‘Not only a tart but a liar! She was after his money.’ Then weeping into her handkerchief again, she added, ‘What have I done to deserve this? I’ve been a loyal and loving wife.’
‘I can’t bear to hear any more of this,’ said Madame Fouquet. ‘I have a hairdresser’s appointment at eleven o’clock and a luncheon at twelve. Action must be taken now. Lucile, get your maid to pack some things for Mademoiselle Archer and give her money for a fare back to Australia, where she belongs.’
‘Lucile,’ I said, trying to keep my nerves steady, ‘remember what you told me at the Ritz on my birthday.’
But trying to appeal to any sense of loyalty in Lucile seemed to have the opposite effect. She clenched her fists and said in a low voice, ‘I’ll tell Odette to pack a small suitcase for you and give you your allowance for the month. Then you must never contact me again, or I’ll call the police.’
Her coldness shocked me. ‘Lucile!’
‘“Madame Damour” to you, young lady,’ said Madame Fouquet, rising from her chair. ‘Now off you go without a fuss.’
I stared at Lucile, unable to believe she was doing this to me. But then she raised her eyes and said with perfect clarity, ‘One more thing, Eve. Please leave the ring I gave you with Odette before you go.’
*
I sat in the grimy café on Rue Gabrielle feeling defeated. The coffee I was drinking was gritty and burned like mustard in my throat. The waiter was surly and unkempt, but it was better to sit there than in the dingy room I had rented above it that smelled like a wet dog.
I sensed someone approaching and looked up to see Georges. He was dapper as usual and out of place in a café with a floor covered in pigeon droppings.
‘What a lovely venue you’ve chosen,’ he said. ‘I hope it doesn’t reflect a permanent mood.’
‘Is it possible to think about someone and have them appear?’ I asked.
‘Were you thinking about me, Eve?’ he asked with amusement. ‘I hope those thoughts were good ones and that you don’t feel about me the way you must feel about my aunt. I’m appalled at her ungrateful behaviour, after all you’ve done for her.’
‘Thank you for coming. I didn’t want to disappear without saying goodbye to you.’
He took out his handkerchief and wiped the chair opposite me before sitting down and signalling to the waiter.
‘I wouldn’t order here if I were you,’ I told him. ‘They’re still using acorns.’
Despite my warning, Georges ordered a coffee and a baguette. Then he turned to me. ‘To live a satisfying life, one should taste bad coffee now and then. It sharpens one’s appreciation of a good brew. Just like every exceptional person should have their share of failure. It makes them hungrier for success. By the way, you have failed spectacularly, Eve. I must congratulate you.’
I clenched my jaw. Nobody could hate the word ‘failure’ more than me. ‘It wasn’t my doing.’
‘I didn’t mean anything against you,’ he replied as the waiter placed his coffee and limp-looking baguette before him. ‘I was referring to your valiant attempt to turn my aunt into a sensible woman.’ His eyes roved over my dress and he gave a delighted laugh. ‘You spent a lot of money on that, didn’t you? Let me guess – my aunt gave you enough money for a week’s rent and you’ve spent half of it already on a dress.’
‘Two weeks’ rent, and I’ve spent nearly all of it.’
Georges nodded as if he thoroughly approved of my reckless behaviour.
‘I’m glad you find my situation amusing,’ I said. ‘But I can’t think straight unless I’m well dressed.’
‘That’s very French of you, Eve. If I appear at all amused by your predicament, it’s only because I know it’s temporary, and I look forward to seeing how you will get yourself out of it. Anyway, I’m glad you sent me a note and didn’t just vanish into thin air.’
‘I’m sorry I can’t come with you to the Anglo-French Legal Conference dinner now. It might have been fun.’
‘Why on earth not?’ he asked.
His remark confused me. ‘Well, apart from the fact I don’t have anything to wear, I am something of a pariah.’
Georges leaned forward and tapped my arm. ‘The fact that you have caused a scandal only makes you a far more fascinating companion. Besides that, I can help you with the dress. Choose any gown you like and have the bill sent to me. And while you are at it, find yourself a decent place to stay at my expense.’
I pressed my lips together. It was a kind offer, but it was different to have a man pay for me than for Lucile to provide for me. I didn’t want to be indebted to Georges that way. When we battled our wits against each other, it made us equals. His financial assistance would change that.
He must have sensed my discomfort because he quickly added, ‘You know it’s not charity I’m offering you. It’s a straightforward transaction. Otherwise, I would instead be wasting money lying on the couch of an expensive psychiatrist desperately trying to overcome my shame at having such a silly aunt.’
Despite my dour predicament, I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I wouldn’t like to see that, Georges, as you are the sanest person I know. But I can’t accept your offer. I need to get out of this mess myself.’
‘And I have no doubt that you will. But you can’t stay in this dump. It’s not safe. So in the meantime...’ He reached inside his jacket for his wallet, but I put my hand on his arm to stop him.
‘It’s a lot like where I grew up,’ I said. ‘I know how to survive.’
Georges met my gaze and took in the firmness of my words. The truth was, that moment when Lucile told me to give back the ring she’d gifted me for my birthday had strengthened my belief that I could only rely on myself. For it seemed clear now that relationships between human beings were purely ‘transactional’ and only worked harmoniously when there was a mutual advantage to be gained. I had decided that I would never reveal to Serge that he was my father. He hadn’t wanted to take responsibility for me as a child, so why would he wish to do so now? Why would I make myself so vulnerable only to be abandoned again? Even Georges thought people didn’t do things out of pure motives. All the promises Anthony had made me – and that I had believed – were nothing but a necklace of pearls of bitterness for me to wear now. I didn’t need to add any more strings to it. If I wanted loyalty, I’d more likely get it from a dog or cat or a chicken than a human being.
Georges took a sip of his coffee without wincing. ‘Then let me try another way. It seems that you have a very good sense of art and have formed an alliance with a dealer who has some legal issues to overcome. Why don’t I offer my services to him pro bono on the condition that he take you on as an apprentice? It seems you would have a much better chance at creating the independent life you desire, and one surrounded by the beauty you crave, in his employment than in that of my aunt.’
A spark lit in my heart. I did love art and I did have a natural flair for knowing what was good and beautiful. If I were to be Serge’s apprentice, then I could be near him without ever having to reveal I was his daughter. And Georges was probably right, I would be much happier surrounded by art than a bunch of socialite vipers.
‘I can see you are warming to the idea,’ said Georges, taking a bite of his baguette which did not emit the delightful crunching sound usually associated with French bread. He chewed until he managed to make himself swallow it. Then he fixed a mischievous grin on me. ‘You see, there isn’t any problem in the world that can’t be solved over a good cup of coffee and a fresh baguette. Let’s go see Serge Lavertu now, shall we?’
I felt a surge of gratitude well in my chest. ‘Thank you, Georges. I appreciate it.’
‘Don’t thank me, Eve—’
‘I know,’ I said, resisting the temptation to wipe away a crumb that had attached itself to his chin, ‘it bores you.’