Headline

by Imogen Robertson

The lake was edged with a semi-circle of Corinthian columns, not on the monumental scale of the Madeleine, but with the same classical decadence, narrow trunks topped with stylised foliage. Great swathes of ivy had been allowed to clamber over them in romantic festoons. It made Maud realise how ordered, how constructed Paris in general could appear. The grand boulevards seemed like a demand for order, the tree roots ringed with gratings as if they might escape. Here nature was controlled with a lighter touch. A handful of smartly dressed women read novels on scattered metal chairs, their faces hidden by the swooping brims of their hats. Maud looked at them, the angles of their necks and hands, the physical body in the world. A formally dressed gentleman complete with silk top hat looked out over the surface of the lake and smoked his cigar, creating a personal fog-bank. A dozen nourrices in their high white muslin caps and long cloaks pushed prams along the gravel paths, nodding to one another like society beauties in the Bois de Boulogne.

  ‘It is possible to see how rich the baby is by the quality of the cap and cloak of his nurse,’ Tanya said, watching one young woman pass them with her little nose in the air. ‘Look at those ribbons! The baby is either a prince or an American. Which here amounts to the same thing, of course. I am sure they are all shocking snobs, these girls.’

  Maud wanted very much to say something light and clever in reply, but she was becoming tired and every woman here made her feel shabby and afraid. There was some trick of dress taught to every Frenchwoman in the cradle, it seemed. The trottins who fetched and carried for the dressmakers and milliners could be no richer than Maud, yet they seemed to know how to look neat and fresh. One of Lafond’s male students told her that the French gendarmes said they always knew the nationality of a suicide pulled from the river by their clothes; the English girls were always badly dressed. Maud had not been sure what reaction the young man had been expecting, but he saw something in her face that had made him apologise and back away quickly.

  ‘If I say something to you, will you try very hard not to take offence at it?’ Tanya said.

  Maud’s heart sank. It did not sound like the opening of a conversation about drawing pupils, and if the Russian did say something offensive to her now she would have to leave at once, painfully hungry and further from home than she had been at the studio.

  ‘I will try and take anything you say as it is meant,’ she replied quietly.

  ‘Very well, dear.’ Tanya patted her arm. Maud glanced at her. Her face was shadowed by the brim of her hat, but one could still see the long clean line of her jaw. Her hair was beautifully black. She could not be more than twenty-two. ‘I am a little worried about you, my dear Maud. You are looking too thin and too pale for a girl about to face a Paris winter. I am afraid you are spending money on colours you should be spending on food.’ Maud felt herself blush and she straightened herself. Tanya was talking quickly, looking forward. ‘There’s no shame in it, naturally. The men behave as if poverty alone can make you a genius, but it is easier for them. So many girls come to Paris and find it rather more expensive than they had bargained for – it is Paris, after all. I am forever signing cheques to charitable foundations who are trying to get them back home before any greater harm comes to them!’

  It was a sign of her hunger and the truth of what Tanya was saying that Maud’s discreet good manners were not enough to stop her tongue. ‘You wish to pay my fare home before I hang myself or take on a gentleman protector, Miss Koltsova?’

  Tanya came to a sudden halt, and looked at Maud with wide and frightened eyes. ‘Lord, is it that bad? I only thought you were beginning to look a bit unwell! You’re not about to do either of those things, are you?’

  ‘Certainly not, but—’

  ‘I’m very glad to hear that! What a ghastly thought!’ She looked so shocked that Maud suddenly laughed. One of the readers lifted her eyes briefly from her novel. Tanya gave a great sigh and hugged Maud’s arm to her again. ‘Oh, you mustn’t tease me like that, I shall have nightmares.’

  ‘I did not mean to tease you. I meant to tell you to mind your own business, but you rather cut me off.’

  Tanya looked a little guilty. ‘Yes, I suppose I did. I am sorry. Do you wish to tell me to mind my own business now?’

  Maud shook her head. ‘No, I find the wind has gone out of my sails rather. But I still have enough money to buy my fare home, so I need not apply to one of those charities you mention. I do not want to go home, Tanya. I find life here . . . difficult, I admit that, but I have so much more to learn and no chance of learning it back home. I’d have to live with my brother and he’d try to marry me to one of his chinless friends.’

  ‘Urff, we have those in Russia too. When I marry, I shall choose a nice modern American. They are so beautifully clean.’ She came to a halt and put her hand to her forehead. ‘I have said things the wrong way about, then rattled off in the wrong direction. I had a terrible education, you know, and now I say what I think! That would never do in England, would it?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ Maud answered, thinking of her sister-in-law Ida, mistress of the pointed euphemism.

  ‘Thank goodness I am in Paris where they see me as an eccentric and think it charming. My eldest aunt is far worse. She tells the women they all dress like prostitutes and she has become quite the social success as a result.’ Tanya began walking again, pulling Maud alongside her. ‘I think I might be able to help you, and I did not mean to suggest you should go home, but do you really think you have so much left to learn? I mean, the sort of things that are taught rather than found in oneself, through work. I think your painting terribly accomplished. Perhaps you just need to learn to trust yourself. Be a little more free. Don’t you think that Manet and Degas have broken off our shackles? We must learn to stretch our limbs.’

  Maud’s head was beginning to swim rather and to concentrate on her answer took effort. ‘Then I hope that can be taught, because I do not trust myself now. I think . . . I think if I could stay in Paris until next summer, then perhaps . . . But I cannot take charity, Miss Koltsova, however kindly meant. I would hate myself.’

  It was as if Tanya had not heard her. ‘Have you visited the Steins in Rue de Fleurus near the Luxembourg Gardens? Oh, I must take you there this evening then. Such paintings they have on their walls! All wildness and change and new ideas. There are no rules left, it seems. I think while those painters charge ahead like bulls, sweeping everything away before them, they make some space for us to paint as we like.’

  ‘Tanya . . .’

  The Russian paused again and blushed. ‘I asked you to walk with me because I want to take you to see someone this afternoon. Her name is Miss Harris, and she has a house in Avenue de Wagram for English and American girls who find themselves destitute in Paris. Oh, don’t bridle up again! She has a free registrar for work, and yes, I have contributed to her funds in the past. I am sure she might have something of use to you – English lessons or some such. You know, many ladies in Paris pay good money for a few hours’ conversation a week. Now, you cannot be offended by that, can you? We shall go there at once.’

  The idea of asking for help, even if it were just a recommendation from a charitable English lady, made Maud shrink away. Her pride flared up. She had got this far by her own efforts, why should she start becoming obliged to people now? What would her brother say, if he knew she was reduced to begging for a few hours’ teaching English? If Tanya had asked her to teach some young relative or friend, then Maud could have felt the benefit of the extra francs and convinced herself that she, Maud, was the one granting the favour. To go and see this woman would be an open admission of failure. She felt as if all the activity in Parc Monceau had been frozen, as if everyone there, the ladies with their novels, the nurses with their pampered little charges, was staring at her to see if she would admit defeat. Whether by accident or design their conversation had carried them round the perimeter of the lake and they were once again beside Tanya’s motor-car. The chauffeur had already stepped out and opened
the door for them.

  Maud generally ate no breakfast on studio days, trusting in the little spiced cakes to see her through to lunchtime when for a franc she might get an omelette, bread and vin ordinaire at one of the cafés near the studio. That would then sustain her till evening, or nearly sustain her. There was no way to squeeze more nourishment from her coin, that she knew by long trial. She should have eaten that meagre meal almost an hour ago and she could feel her hunger turning darker and more threatening. The idea of going anywhere, doing anything with her stomach aching and a feathery weakness beginning to spread through her limbs was impossible, yet resisting or telling Tanya the urgency of her hunger was likewise unthinkable. She let herself be guided back into the car and heard Tanya give another address then sat in the car with her eyes downcast.

  CHAPTER 3

  Their destination was very close by. Tanya took her arm as they got out of the car and Maud felt herself sway against her. Tanya took the pressure for affection and squeezed her arm happily in return. Maud looked around her. They were in front of a good-sized building. The façade showed the familiar restrained elegance of Haussmann’s Paris. Classical, stately, like all the main avenues and boulevards, it gave no hint of the poverty or fear that might be hidden in the yards and alleys behind it. English manners in stone.

  Tanya pulled Maud up to the door with her, then looked up and, shielding her eyes against the grey glare of the sky, waved. Maud followed her gaze and saw leaning over the balcony of the second floor a woman of perhaps sixty, bright-eyed, bundled up warmly in a long dark-green coat and waving vigorously back.

  ‘Miss Harris!’ Tanya called up even as she pulled on the bell. ‘We have come to see you. Are we welcome?’

  ‘Always, dear!’ the lady shouted back cheerfully and the white head disappeared again as the front door opened. A maid, looking particularly fearsome in tightly fitting black and solid shoes, stood in front of them. Behind her was a black and white tiled floor and a steeply climbing staircase. Everything was clean and orderly. A woman dressed in a monkish style crossed the corridor with a pile of papers in her hand and somewhere in the house, Maud heard the trill of a telephone bell.

  ‘Miss ’Arris is not at home,’ the maid said, and began to close the door again. ‘If you wish to register for work, use the back-door bell. The refuge is full and the times of the free dinner and Bible study are marked ’ere.’ She pointed at a little box of pamphlets attached to a railing and fluttering damply in the cold breeze.

  Tanya flushed and put her hand on the wood of the door. ‘Nonsense, my girl. I have just seen Miss Harris on the balcony.’

  ‘Miss ’Arris has been working since six this morning,’ the maid said darkly and not moving an inch. ‘Miss ’Arris is now taking the air. Miss ’Arris is not at home.’

  The lady called down from the balcony again. ‘Simone, do be reasonable. I swear I have been out here twenty minutes. I have had quite enough air! Do let the girls in and come and unlock the door so I can get back to my office.’

  The maid stepped out into the street and called up angrily. ‘Ten! Ten minutes only!’

  ‘Simone . . .’ The lady’s voice had a hint of steel in it now. The maid threw up her hands.

  ‘Very well! We shall let these women in, we shall let you work yourself to death and then we shall all starve in the gutter or go to be registered. Much better than letting these women wait or go to the side door – oh, much better!’ Simone stood aside to let Maud and Tanya in, then slammed the street door hard enough to make the vase on the hall-table rattle. She thrust open a door to the right that led into a small office with a table and chairs and several filing cabinets, and took them through into another room of about the same size, with one large desk and a number of rather sentimental watercolours on the walls. Most seemed to involve children and dogs. Simone picked up two dining chairs and thumped them down in front of the desk then stared fiercely at Tanya. ‘Ten minutes!’ she hissed, her finger raised and pointed. ‘Starve!’ Feeling her point had been made, she sighed deeply and removed a large key from the pocket of her apron, nodded over it sadly then left them.

  Tanya looked a little sheepish and normally Maud would have been amused, but keeping her wits about her was as much as she could manage. She took her seat, afraid she might faint. In a very few minutes Miss Harris joined them, pink in the face and unbuttoning her coat. She hung it rather carelessly on the coat-stand by the door, closed the door behind her then smoothed her skirts and put out her hand to them both. Maud wavered a little as she stood again and had to grab onto the back of her chair. Though Miss Harris was shaking Tanya’s hand with both her own, Maud thought her unsteadiness had not gone unnoticed. She shook hands with Miss Harris as Tanya introduced her and felt the quick appraising look from her small dark eyes.

  ‘Sit down, dears! Sit down. My apologies for Simone. She always promises she will not lock me out then, hoop-la, as soon as my back is turned I find she has turned the key. She means well, of course.’

  The woman settled herself behind the desk. There was a little heap of messages left in front of her and, on either side of her, paperwork was piled into towers that reached as high as her own head. She rifled through the messages with one hand, while reaching blindly behind her to pick up a speaking tube fastened to the wall. Still reading, she whistled down it and on hearing a grunt at the other end spoke. ‘Beef tea and sandwiches, dear, quick as you can,’ then she stoppered the tube and clipped it back into place. Her right hand now free, she picked up a pen and began to make notes in very small handwriting on the papers in front of her. For the first time since she had met Tanya, Maud noticed out of the corner of her eye that the Russian looked a little unsure of herself. Miss Harris said nothing more until the fearsome maid arrived with the tray and set it down on the desk, directly in front of Maud.

  ‘I am very sorry to have disturbed you, Miss Harris,’ Tanya said a little plaintively, ‘when you wish to eat.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd, dear,’ Miss Harris replied evenly. ‘The food is for Miss Heighton.’ She smiled at Maud, wrinkling her nose a little as she did. ‘Eat up before you faint away, dear girl. Now, Tanya dear, to your left is yesterday’s Times. I wish you would read to me the correspondence page while I finish these little notes and Miss Heighton gets her wind back.’

  Tanya managed to pick up the newspaper while casting a look both shocked and a little offended at Maud. ‘Maud, why did you not say you were hungry?’

  ‘What did you expect her to say?’ Miss Harris said sharply. ‘I am afraid I have had more chance to see the signs of hunger in a girl than you have, Tanya. Now do read, if you can manage the English.’

  ‘Naturally I can,’ Tanya said, and while she read the various letters very carefully and in a clear voice Maud ate as slowly and steadily as she could. She could not remember the last time she had eaten good meat or bread that did not taste of chalk, and the beef tea seemed to enter her bloodstream like a drug, warming and comforting her. The room felt calm and secure as she ate everything that had been brought to her to the sound of Tanya’s pretty Russian accent and the scratchings of Miss Harris’s pen. When she had finished, she sat back with a sigh.

  Miss Harris at once replaced the cap on her fountain pen with a businesslike click and then rang the little bell beside her. The door opened immediately and the young woman they had seen crossing the hall earlier entered. Her dress was very dark and severe in its cut. She stood very straight and unsmiling. Her hair was scraped back from her face and she wore little round eyeglasses. Tanya shuddered.

  ‘Charlotte, dear, do take the tray away, and here . . .’ Miss Harris piled her notes onto it next to Maud’s crumbs, ‘are the answers to the messages and notes from this morning.’ She shook her head. ‘I sometimes wish we had never thought to have a telephone installed. Is there anyone here for me, Charlotte?’

  The severe young woman nodded. ‘Two new girls and Mr Allardyce.’

  Miss Harris waved her hand. ‘Feed
them and I will see them anon. The girls, I mean. I doubt Mr Allardyce would enjoy the beef tea.’

  Charlotte did not smile. ‘He is here to see if you have any unpleasant business for him this afternoon.’

  ‘Certainly I shall. Well, you may send him in when I have finished with these ladies and look out the file on Miss Knight. I am sure he will help us there.’

  Charlotte made a note in her little book then gathered up the tray and swept out of the room again while Miss Harris settled back in her chair. ‘Dear Mr Allardyce! Such a useful young man. Miss Knight was forced to leave her luggage behind her in her last lodgings and her former landlord is being unreasonable about releasing it. When Charlotte went to demand it, I’m afraid she threatened him with hellfire and he laughed at her. Mr Allardyce will simply mention by name any number of officials he knows through his newspaper work and the landlord will be much more impressed.’

  Miss Harris leaned forward and hunched her shoulders, speaking rather low. ‘Of course, our mighty Creator is our first and final help, but Mr Allardyce’s methods are certainly efficacious. He is himself an answer to a prayer. I asked God for some practical help, and the very next day Mr Allardyce appeared wishing to write something about our work for the American periodicals. I drummed him into service at once. I have no idea why anyone doubts the power of sincere prayer, I find it most reliable.’ She blinked brightly as if God were a trusted tradesman. ‘How is Yvette?’

  ‘Quite well,’ Tanya said without any hint of the surprise Maud felt. ‘She sits for us at Passage des Panoramas this week.’

  Maud’s confusion must have shown on her face even if she did not manage to put it into words. Mrs Harris nodded briskly, setting a little gold cross at her neck bouncing, then gathered up another pile of papers from the tower next to her and began to go through them. ‘Yvette is a soul close to God, though she would laugh at me for saying so. It was she who first encouraged Miss Koltsova to favour us with her charity.’ Tanya snorted and Maud guessed that Yvette had phrased the suggestion a little more abruptly than that. ‘I have no doubt it was Yvette who told Tanya to bring you to me today, Miss Heighton.’ Tanya blushed a little.