Honeymoon in Paris
Page 10What has she done?
‘I’m so sorry,’ she says, her head down, gathering up her things from the table. ‘I have to go now.’
‘Olivia. Please don’t rush off. I’m –’
Blood is thumping in her ears. ‘No. Really. I probably shouldn’t be here anyway. It was very nice to meet you. Thank you so much for the coffee. And … you know …’
She does not look at him. She raises a smile, throws it somewhere in his direction, and then she flees, half walking, half running, along the Seine back towards Notre Dame.
Chapter Four
1912
The Marché Monge was packed with shoppers, despite the cool winds and miserable spit of rain. I walked half a step behind Mimi Einsbacher, who made her way around the stalls with a determined sway to her hips and had kept up a constant commentary from the moment we entered the market.
‘Oh, you must buy some of these. Édouard does love Spanish peaches. Look, they’re so perfectly ripe.’
‘Have you cooked him langoustines? Oh! How that man can eat langoustines …’
I picked up a bunch of carrots, and inspected them closely, trying to look as if I was interested in them. Somewhere at the back of my head a distant thumping pulse had started up and I detected the beginnings of a headache.
Mimi Einsbacher stopped in front of a stall stacked with meat products. She exchanged a few words with the stallholder before picking up a small jar and holding it up to the light. She gave me a sideways look, from under her hat. ‘Oh, you do not wish to hear such remembrances … Sophia. I must suggest the foie gras, though. A lovely treat for Édouard. If you are a little … light on housekeeping, I would be delighted to purchase it as a small gift for him. As an old friend. I know how erratic he can be with these things.’
‘We are quite capable of supporting ourselves, thank you.’ I took the jar from her hand and popped it into my basket, handing the stallholder his money. Half of our remaining food budget, I noted, with mute fury.
She slowed her pace so that I had no choice but to walk alongside her. ‘So … Gagnaire tells me that Édouard has painted nothing for weeks. Rather a pity.’
Why should you talk to Édouard’s dealer? I wanted to ask, but I let it pass. ‘We are only just married. He has been … distracted.’
‘He is a great talent. He should not lose focus.’
‘Édouard says he will paint when he is ready.’
It was as if she hadn’t heard me. Mimi had headed over to the patisserie stall, and was gazing at a tarte framboise. ‘Framboises! At this time of year! I cannot imagine what the world is coming to.’
Please do not offer to buy this for Édouard too, I said silently. I barely have enough money left for bread. But Mimi had other things on her mind. She bought a small baguette, waited while the stallholder wrapped it in paper, then turned halfway towards me, lowering her voice.
I looked at her, at her bright, blank smile. And then saw she was gazing pointedly at my waist. ‘No!’
It took me several minutes to grasp how she had insulted me.
I wanted to say to her: Édouard begged me to marry him. It was he who insisted on it. He could not bear the thought of any other man even looking at me. He could not bear the possibility that they would see in me what he saw.
But I did not want to give her anything of us at all. Faced with her smiling enmity, I wanted to keep every part of Édouard’s and my marriage to myself, where she could not puncture it or skew it or make it resemble something it did not. I felt my face flush with colour.
She stood, staring at me. ‘Oh you mustn’t be sensitive, Sophia.’
‘Sophie. My name is Sophie.’
She turned away. ‘Of course. Sophie. But my question cannot be entirely unexpected. It is only natural that those who have known Édouard longest will feel a little proprietorial towards him. After all, we know so little about you … . other than … You are a shop girl, yes?’
‘I was. Until I married him.’
‘And, of course, then you had to leave your … shop. What a pity. How you must miss your shop friends. I know only too well how comforting it is to be immersed in one’s own social circle, among one’s own kind.’
‘I’m sure you are. Although it can be so terribly difficult to make proper friends when everybody else has known each other for years. So hard to penetrate those shared amusements, all that history.’ She smiled. ‘Still, I’m sure you’re doing quite well.’
‘Édouard and I are happiest alone.’
‘Of course. But you cannot imagine he will want to stay that way for long, Sophia. He is, after all, the most gregarious of creatures. A man like Édouard needs to be allowed the utmost freedom.’
I was struggling to keep my composure. ‘You speak as if I have become his gaoler. I have never wanted Édouard to do other than what pleased him.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you haven’t. And I’m sure you are quite aware of your good fortune in marrying someone like him. I just thought it politic to offer some advice.’
When I did not reply, she added, ‘Perhaps you believe me to be terribly presumptuous, advising you on your own husband. But you know that Édouard does not follow the rules of the bourgeoisie, so I felt that I might also be allowed to step outside the constraints of normal conversation.’
‘I’m sure I am most grateful, Madame.’ I wondered whether I could just turn and leave her then, invent some forgotten appointment. Surely I had endured this for long enough.
She lowered her voice, took a step away from the stall and gestured for me to do the same. ‘Well, then, if we are speaking frankly, I feel it my duty to advise you on another front. Woman to woman, if you will. As you will be aware, Édouard is a man of great … appetites.’ She looked meaningfully at me. ‘I’m sure he is delighted to be married now, but as he begins painting other women again, you must be prepared to … allow him certain freedoms.’