The Chainmakers

by Helen Spring

  'Dreadful, that would be awful...'

  'Of course. Because the photograph, the image, means something to you. In the same way our paintings, icons or statues in the Church mean something to us, because they remind us of what we love.'

  Her face was a picture. 'Is that true? You don't actually worship those things?'

  Jacques laughed. 'Of course not, any more than you Chapel folk live on bread and water like the Catholics say!'

  'Oh Jacques!' Anna squeezed his arm. 'You have been so good to me, you and Therese. I wouldn't have seen, or understood so much if you hadn't helped me. Robert has been so busy...'

  'Yes,' Jacques said drily, 'I suppose you can call it that.'

  He glanced to the prow of the boat where Robert sat with some English friends, recently arrived in Paris. The party was in full swing, and centred around an extremely attractive fair haired young woman, who was holding Robert's arm and laughing. As they watched Robert raised his champagne glass to her and took a sip.

  'Delphine is in good form tonight,' Anna said a little acidly. She resented the way Delphine Braybrook had monopolised Robert since she and her mother had arrived to take up residence only two doors away from their own house. She seemed to expect him to escort them everywhere, even shopping. 'Delphine and her mother take up a great deal of Robert's time,' she added.

  'Yes... they are old friends I believe,' said Jacques. He tugged at his beard. 'Anna, you must not take Robert too seriously... he is great fun, you know that of course, but not... not...'

  He tailed off, dismayed by the look of innocent enquiry in her big eyes. 'How do you mean, not take him seriously?'

  Jacques couldn't do it. 'I just mean, he's a great one for fun, but... you couldn't expect him to... to ever buckle down to real... work.' He gave a slightly nervous laugh. 'Perhaps I'm wrong. I didn't think he would finish that picture of you, but he did. It's very good too. He's never finished one before when he's been in France, at least as far as I know.'

  'Oh yes, it is good isn't it? I can hardly believe it is me! Florence... his mother... will love it.'

  Anna smiled happily at Jacques, and turned her attention to admiring more of Paris by night. She was not worried about Delphine Braybrook. Hadn't Robert come to her room last night and held her in his arms as tenderly as ever? Hadn't he told her that Delphine and her mother were a damned nuisance? Their love affair was as passionate and close as ever, even though since they came to Paris it had become increasingly clandestine.

  As the boat drew towards the small wooden jetty where they were to embark and visit "Le Poste" restaurant for dinner, Robert made his way towards them, followed by Delphine. He winked at Anna and stopped to chat to Jacques, reminding him of the last time they had dined at "Le Poste". Anna could not help but stare at Delphine. Apart from her beauty, she seemed to exude an air of confident condescension, from her perfectly coiffured head to her soft lilac leather shoes. These matched exactly her superbly cut skirt and jacket, and Anna almost gasped aloud as she noticed the diamond brooch which Delphine had pinned at the neck of her lace blouse. Everything she wore was of outstanding quality, and Anna, who had dressed very carefully for the evening, in her best skirt and a new cream blouse, began to feel like a country bumpkin.

  Seeming to feel Anna's gaze, Delphine met her eyes and a slight frown shadowed the beautiful face. Anna gave a wide smile and said quietly 'Good evening Miss Braybrook,' and Delphine inclined her head regally. As they began to embark she said in a loud clear voice, 'Why have you brought servants with you Robert?'

  Robert stopped, frozen in the act of handing Delphine from the boat. He said nothing, and Delphine, having gained the wooden jetty, continued in the same tone, 'That girl... Anna whatever her name is... surely you're not intending she should eat with our party?'

  Robert coloured, and said quickly, 'Anna is not a servant Delphine. She is our model, and a friend.'

  'Oh, really?' Delphine sounded quite amused. 'I never understand you artistic types, I thought a model was a servant per se, if not something worse!' Her eyes raked Anna from head to toe and her expression clearly implied that she couldn't be blamed for thinking that someone who dressed like a servant was one.

  Anna, trembling with mortification, felt Jacques squeeze her elbow. 'Come ma petite, don't take notice. You are with me.' He handed her from the boat, and gave a slight bow. 'I am very honoured to be your escort.'

  His kind smile made Anna's eyes brim with tears, and she trembled as she said quietly, 'I think... I think perhaps I should go back to the house...'

  'Non! Absolutely not!' Jacques said fiercely. 'You must not give way to such ...' he searched for a word, 'unpardonable rudeness. You must not give the satisfaction, ma petite.'

  He took Anna's hand and tucked it into his arm. 'We shall go in, they have an excellent chef here and you must try something different. You have a good palate, and must give me your impressions...'

  In spite of Jacques's kindness, and the relaxed atmosphere and superb food, Anna spent a miserable evening. She could not forget Delphine's snub, which had so obviously been deliberate, and began to wonder what had motivated it. Robert and several of the party, including Delphine, went on to a club after dinner. Anna declined to go, telling Jacques she had a slight headache, and he insisted on escorting her home before leaving again to join the rest of the party.

  Anna heard them return very late, but Robert did not come to her room. Was it because Jacques had told him she was not well and he did not wish to disturb her, she wondered, or was it something more sinister?

  Anna's misgivings melted away the following morning. She was busy in the kitchen helping Therese with the breakfast, when Robert put his head round the door.

  'Good morning piglet. Feeling better?'

  Anna gave him a winning smile, obviously Jacques had told him.

  'Yes, fine now thank you. Have you had breakfast?'

  'Yes, and I've come to ask Therese's permission to spirit you away...?' He looked quizzically at Therese. 'I'd like to take Anna to see the Chardin paintings, I did promise her...'

  Therese sniffed. 'You take 'er where you like, I manage.'

  'Are you sure Therese? I would like to go.' Anna could hardly contain her excitement, and a grudging smile crossed Therese's lips in spite of herself. 'Go on... to your gallery,' she grumbled. 'You think I need you? You talk more than you work...'

  Anna looked suitably contrite at this admonition, but Robert laughed aloud and said, 'Everyone is out for lunch anyway, so no need to feel guilty, piglet.'

  He had taken to calling Anna 'piglet' since they arrived in Paris, due to the fondness she had developed for the rich pastries at the "Salon de Thé". Now he said quickly, 'Run away and get ready. Put on your best bib and tucker and after the gallery I'll take you somewhere special for lunch.'

  Anna threw a pleading look at Therese which was answered by a curt jerk of her head in the direction of the door. Anna dashed out, and Robert sat down at the kitchen table.

  'You get on well don't you? You and Anna?' he said, watching as Therese sorted raspberries into a large white bowl.

  'She's a nice girl,' Therese responded after a moment, adding a little unwillingly, 'She 'as... what is it?... Joie de vivre...'

  'Spirit.' Robert said thoughtfully. 'In English we would say she had spirit...'

  'Mon Dieu! What a language! How can this be...?'

  'Not the sort of spirit you're thinking of,' Robert laughed. 'Not like the Holy Spirit, or the spirit you drink...'

  ‘What a language!' Therese said again. 'One word for many things.'

  'This spirit means lots of life, enthusiasm,' Robert explained. 'But I think "joie de vivre" is just right for Anna.'

  'Yes.' Therese fetched a huge kitchen scale and poured the raspberries into the big brass pan. She added a few more raspberries, watching until the pan dipped obligingly, and then said quietly, 'It will be a pity if the "joie de vivre" is lost from Anna.'

  'Why should it be?' Robert as
ked.

  Therese's lips set in a firm line. It was not her place to criticise, but she could not help saying, 'You forget I 'ave known you many years Monsieur Robert...'

  'Yes, but Anna is different, you must know that Therese! I am very fond of her, and so is my mother. I would not hurt her for the world!'

  'Good!' Therese grunted. 'Make sure you don't!'

  ~

  'I knew 'piglet' was the right name for you,' Robert remarked. 'How you get away with it without putting on weight I'll never know.'

  Anna giggled, as she finished the last crumbs of a Tourtiere Bonaguil. She sighed happily. 'It is because I have to sample as much as I can while I'm here,' she explained. 'Once I get home I shall never taste anything like it again.'

  'You could make some,' Robert ventured. 'You have lots of recipes. You and Therese seem to be talking of nothing but food these days.'

  Anna fell silent. There was no use explaining that even if she could obtain the right ingredients in England, she could never afford to buy them. She was not sure why she had collected so many recipes, but perhaps one day... She pulled herself together.

  'Do you think the chef would give me the recipe?' she asked. 'Therese has taught me how to make mille feuille but this is different.'

  'I expect so, if you are really interested.' Robert summoned the waiter and spoke to him in halting French. The man seemed delighted with the request and hurried away, and Robert smiled. 'There you are, you will find the French are always ready to talk about food. You are becoming quite a francophile yourself!'

  'Yes, and thank you for such a lovely day. I thought the paintings were marvellous. You know,' Anna leaned forward confidentially, 'When I first went to High Cedars and you wanted to paint me in my working clothes I couldn't understand why! I had never seen pictures of working people.' She laughed. 'To be honest, the only pictures I had seen were those in the Dudley Art Gallery when I was a child, when we went to see your father's painting. All the pictures seemed to be of very grand ladies and gentlemen in beautiful clothes, apart from the religious ones and some landscapes.'

  'There are other forms,' said Robert with a smile. 'But Chardin has always been very special for me. I remember the time I first saw his work a few years ago when I came to Paris. I knew immediately that I wanted to paint ordinary people, working people, like he did. Now we are in the age of the machine, and I can paint a different kind of worker, the industrial worker.'

  'I loved the painting of the kitchen maid,' said Anna, remembering the simple domesticity of the picture. 'I liked the still life too...'

  'But do you know what it is that you admire?' Robert asked. 'Why did you like the picture of the kitchen maid?'

  'I don't know,' Anna admitted. 'I think... because it's real.'

  Robert looked pleased. 'A good answer,' he said approvingly. 'You are learning about art, piglet. You see, Chardin painted just what he saw. Many artists tend to idealise scenes, or make them more romantic. For example if they are painting a country scene the farm labourers will all have rustic apple cheeks, and the women will be shown sitting at a cottage door, surrounded by chubby infants. The reality is often very different.'

  'Yes, it is,' Anna agreed. In her mind suddenly appeared an image of a skinny drone at the door of a hovel, with two filthy children clutching at her skirts. She had seen them on a farm when she had visited the Clent Hills with Clancy. She recalled her misgivings about Andrew Nicholson's portrayal of her as "The Chainmaker's Child", and felt she understood what Robert meant.

  'So you are saying, art has to be honest?' she asked.

  'For me, yes. There are other artists who look at things differently. Some of them like to paint what they don't see, but what is in their imagination. For me, honesty is everything.'

  Anna felt a surge of happiness run through her. When Robert talked to her like this she felt whole, included, as if she belonged to his world.

  'Another thing I meant to ask you,' Robert continued. 'Do you remember when we climbed to the top of Dudley Castle at night, and saw the fires?'

  'I'll never forget it,' Anna answered.

  'At that time we talked of beauty. I said the scene had a savage beauty of its own, but you disagreed. How do you feel now? Can you see what I meant?'

  His eyes were intense, and Anna had the feeling that somehow her answer was important.

  'I don't know. I think I feel the same. It was certainly an incredible sight, even exhilarating perhaps, but I still cannot think of it as beautiful.'

  'Ah.' He looked a little disappointed. 'Incredible... and exhilarating,' he repeated. He began to laugh, 'Like us!' he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. 'When we are together we are incredible, and exhilarating...'

  'Yes, but beautiful too,' Anna said softly.

  'Don't you see, that's it!' Robert said, the whisper becoming intense. 'Our love is passionate, even savage. There are many friends of mine, and yours, who would say it is also wicked and sinful. But you and I know it is beautiful, as you say.'

  Robert licked his lips in concentration and the lock of fair hair fell forward over his eyes, to be flicked back with the impatient gesture Anna loved.

  'It is like the view from the castle,' he continued eagerly, 'You could only see it as a battlefield, but for me it had a strange beauty, a savage beauty of its own.' His voice became thoughtful. 'I can often find great beauty in things that others find repulsive... or sordid even...'

  At that moment the waiter returned with a scruffy piece of paper on which was scrawled the recipe for Tourtiere Bonaguil. He spoke to Robert, who made valiant attempts to understand the fast, heavily accented French. At length he turned to Anna. 'I have it at last. The chef is asleep at the moment, but his wife has written out the recipe. She says to tell you it is for a large quantity, to make twenty four! She thanks you for your interest and sends you a small gift.'

  The waiter produced a paper bag containing two Tourtiere Bonaguil. Anna smiled her thanks and after Robert had paid the bill they left the restaurant to the accompaniment of much laughter and handshaking, and promises to return.

  In the carriage Robert took Anna's hand. 'Yes piglet, it's definitely the "joie de vivre,"' he said.

  'The what?'

  'Joie de vivre, it is French for "Joy in living" or "Love of Life." Therese and I were saying we thought you had it.'

  'I do when I'm in Paris, or at La Maison Blanche,' she said.

  'True! How else can I explain the phenomenon of a restaurant in Paris actually giving food away to the customers? It has never happened before in my experience. It must be catching, this "Joie de Vivre!"'

  Anna giggled. 'I never had it in Sandley Heath,' she said. A frown flitted over her face. 'When... How much longer will we stay here?'

  Robert smiled. 'Oh, we've a couple of weeks to go yet. In other years I used to go on to Cannes for the Autumn.'

  'And this year?'

  'No. Since my father died I don't like to leave mother alone for too long, although Andrew will keep an eye on her.' He squeezed her hand. 'Anyway, I've got to get my little piglet home,' he said gently.

  Anna grimaced. Yes, she thought, sooner or later the piglet has to return to the sty.

  ~

  ‘Enjoy yourself!' Anna called, as she saw Sylvie at the front door with her easel and canvas. Sylvie looked up, and although it was impossible to imagine her complying with the instruction at least she smiled as she left the house.

  Anna felt at a loose end. Jacques and Alphonse had already left to visit an exhibition, and Therese had gone to her sisters for the day. She had left Anna in charge of the domestic arrangements, which were few, as only Robert was home, entertaining Delphine Braybrook and her mother to coffee in the drawing room. Anna had been aware of a lull in the conversation as she had taken in the coffee, but she had put down the tray and said 'Good Morning,' not even looking at Delphine. As she left the room Robert had given her a heavy wink.

  Now she wandered through the lovely house, wondering if Rob
ert would be free later, or whether he intended to take his guests out to lunch. She went into the small library, one of her favourite rooms, and perused the shelves carefully, there were a few volumes in English if one could find them.

  'Oh, you're here.'

  Anna turned quickly to see Delphine had entered the library. She was wearing a stunning day dress of caramel coloured lace, with an inset fichu of pale peach silk, and as she moved Anna was aware of the delicate perfume which surrounded her. She smiled graciously at Anna.

  'I was not aware you read French Miss...er...'

  'Gibson.' Anna supplied quietly. 'Anna Gibson.' She turned back to the shelves. 'I don't read French, but there are some English books here.'

  'Oh yes, I believe there are a few. I read very few novels, when I do I read in the original French, one tends to lose so much in the translation.'

  Anna did not reply. Delphine however, was inclined to talk. She took out a slim volume and offered it to Anna. 'Here's one in English which may be suitable, I have not read it but it seems very light reading.'

  The snub was obvious. Anna stiffened, and said quietly, 'Why are you determined to be so rude to me? I have never harmed you, as far as I know.'

  'Harmed me? Of course you have not my dear. It would be very difficult for you to do so, would it not? The contest would hardly be equal.'

  Delphine appeared to be enjoying herself. Anna, trembling slightly but with a high spot of colour flaming each cheek, stood her ground.

  'Then I ask again, why be so rude to me?'

  Delphine laughed. 'Since we are alone, I will confess it. I was not trying to be rude, as you so quaintly put it, I was simply giving you a gentle warning.'

  'About what? What have I done?'

  ‘Nothing as far as I know, but you might...'

  'Might what?' Anna said hotly, becoming exasperated.

  'Become a little too close to my fiancé. I have seen you talking and laughing together.'

  'Your fiancé?' Anna began to smile. 'But I don't even know your fiancé...'