‘That’s because you have it.’
‘Touché,’ he nodded. ‘Perhaps. But, Odette, I think you are more like me than you imagine. Because working in a bar is notyourdream. Your dream is to sell your art, to paint for a living,n’est-ce pas?So you too prefer to stay away from the “career ladder” and pass time until that happens.’
Odette flushed. ‘Maybe.’
‘And so I want to live a life with books, to help other people understand and love literature as I do. Sure, there is no money in it and as my father always tells me, it is not a business. But it is important. “A wise person should have money in their head, but not in their heart”.’
‘Oh God,’ Odette said quietly. ‘Another quote.’
‘I haven’t seen much of your art yet.’ Bella turned to Odette, changing the subject. ‘I adore the seascape in the hall. I’d love to see what you do.’
Odette flushed. ‘It is not ready yet. I will show you one day.’
‘And are you going to exhibit somewhere? Maybe in a Paris gallery? I’m sure there are lots of opportunities…’
Odette’s skin turned almost purple. She sipped her wine and Bella detected a small tremor in her fingers as they gripped the glass. ‘Oui. I am not ready for them though. It is a very private thing.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
Henri laughed. ‘Don’t be sorry, Bella. Odette is simply teasing us. She graduated from her art degree withmention très bien– she was top of her class. And I visited her display even though she told me I must not. It was truly exceptional.’
‘Oh wow. Well done!’ Bella flashed a smile at Odette who tried to return it but still looked deeply uncomfortable.
‘I even bought her painting – the beautiful seascape in the hallway.’
Odette seemed to shrink in her seat.
‘Oh, I love that picture!’
‘Yes, me too,’ Henri said. ‘She hates that I display it, but it belongs to me, and I think she should be proud to have it on the wall.’
‘Definitely.’
‘Then since a year – nothing. I have not seen any more works, there have been no exhibitions.’
‘Well, I’m sure good art takes time,’ Bella said, trying desperately to relieve Odette’s embarrassment. ‘I wouldn’t know how to start.’
‘Thank you,’ Odette said softly, nodding at her. ‘Yes, it is hard at the moment.’
There was a silence, amplified somehow by the noisy, happy chatter from the other tables. Bella racked her brain for something interesting to share. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘at least neither of you have to compare yourselves to Kitty.’
Henri looked at her, his face creased with confusion. ‘You compare yourself to a cat?’
She laughed. ‘No. My sister, Kitty. She’s four years older than me and she’s one of those people who do everything perfectly.’
‘You do not get along?’ Odette asked.
‘Oh, we do. She’s great. It’s just, it’s hard growing up in someone’s shadow like that. Every failure I had seemed… worse somehow.’
‘But have you failed?’ Henri asked, confused. ‘Of course, right now you are an intern but it is only temporary. You will have your degree soon. And you are improving your French which is already very good. You live in Versailles! She should be jealous of you!’
Bella smiled. She couldn’t explain about the almost decade she’d lived in France already; about the failed marriage, the closed-down business. It was hard, too, to put into words the sense of being less that she’d carried with her all her life. ‘Maybe,’ she said instead, wishing she’d never brought it up.
* * *
She was not drunk two hours later when they started to walk home, but pleasantly tipsy. Not a fan of red wine, she’d been able to pace herself and although she knew she would be tired tomorrow morning, without the addition of a hangover she’d probably be OK.
They walked from the town, with its old, square-windowed buildings with their flat, white stone fronts, across a cobbled street where the properties seemed less stiff and poised; older, but quainter too. The cobbles were a nightmare with the slight heels on her shoes but just as she stumbled, Henri reached a hand out to grab her arm and steadied her in the nick of time. ‘Thank you!’ she said, rolling her eyes and embarrassed. ‘It’s not the wine, it’s the cobbles.’
