Page 78 of The Seven Sisters

‘Bus?’ Maria Georgiana looked horrified. ‘I hardly think that your parents would wish for you to be using public transport alone in Paris in the evening. You must of course be driven there and back.’

‘Thank you. I will pay for any expenses incurred,’ said Bel quietly, disguising the true extent of her relief and joy.

‘As a matter of fact, Izabela,’ continued Heitor, ‘it rather suits me to have you in Landowski’satelier. You can be the spy in the camp, and report back to me on the progress of the new four-metre model of myCristo,’ he smiled.

*

‘Perhaps one evening I could accompany you to theatelierand watch as you are sculpted?’ asked Maria Elisa as they climbed into bed later that evening.

‘I will ask Monsieur Brouilly if he would mind,’ said Bel. ‘Are you still enjoying the hospital?’ she asked, changing the subject and hoping Maria Elisa would forget about her request.

‘Very much,’ Maria Elisa replied. ‘And a few days ago, I spoke to my parents about making nursing my career in the future. Mãe wasn’t happy, as you can imagine, but Pai was very supportive and told Mãe off for being so old-fashioned.’ Maria Elisa smiled. ‘It isn’t her fault,’ she equivocated hastily, always ready to forgive. ‘She was brought up in a different era. So now I’m eager to return to Rio and embark on my chosen course. Sadly, Pai thinks it will be another year before he’ll have finished his work here. You’re so lucky to be returning home in two weeks, Bel. Sleep well.’

‘And you,’ Bel responded.

She lay in bed thinking about what Maria Elisa had just said.If only we could change places, she thought sleepily, knowing that she would sell her soul to be in her friend’s position and spend another year in Paris.

*

Two days later, Bel found herself sitting in theatelieras dusk fell. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the vast emerging structure of the four-metreCristo, dominating the studio. Margarida had already departed for the day, and as Bel had arrived, Landowski had been leaving to take supper with his wife and children next door. Without the usual human hum of the studio, Bel listened to the silence.

‘What are you thinking?’ Laurent asked her suddenly.

Bel saw his hands were working on her upper torso, currently engaged in shaping the outline of her breasts beneath the high-necked muslin blouse she was wearing.

‘Just how different it is here at night,’ she answered.

‘Yes, it certainly has a serenity as the sun sets. I often work here alone in the evenings as I enjoy the peace. Landowski must attend to his family, and besides, he says he cannot sculpt after the light fades.’

‘Can you?’

‘Izabela, even if you were no longer sitting in front of me, I would be able to sculpt you perfectly. Having gazed at you for so long, the exact details of your form are engrained on my memory.’

‘So, perhaps you do not need me here after all?’

‘No, perhaps you’re right.’ He smiled lazily at her. ‘But it’s the perfect excuse to have your company. Don’t you agree?’

It was the first time Laurent had made a direct comment that confirmed he desired her presence for more than artistic reasons.

She lowered her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she answered.

Laurent said no more, and worked on silently for the next hour. Then he stretched and suggested it was time for a break.

As he went to the kitchen, Bel stood up and walked around theatelierto ease her stiff back. She glanced at her unfinished sculpture and admired its simple lines.

‘Would you recognise yourself?’ Laurent asked as he brought through a jug of wine and a bowl of olives and she followed him to the trestle table.

‘Not really,’ she replied honestly, studying the sculpture as he poured the wine into two glasses. ‘Perhaps when you have finished my face I might. I look so young at present, almost like a little girl from the way you have had me pose.’

‘Excellent!’ said Laurent. ‘I have had in my mind the image of a closed rosebud, just before it begins to open and blossom into a perfect flower. The moment between childhood and womanhood; on the threshold of the latter and contemplating the delights it might hold.’

‘I’m not a child,’ Bel retorted, feeling patronised by Laurent’s explanation.

‘But neither are you a woman yet,’ he said, eyeing her as he drank his wine.

Bel did not know how to reply. She took another sip of wine from her glass as her heart rate increased.

‘So, back to work,’ he said briskly, ‘before the light fades completely.’