Page 23 of The Paris Trip

‘Oh Leo!’ Madame Rémy exclaimed, clapping her hands in obvious delight. ‘How marvellous. I’m so glad.’

Even Bernadette was smiling. ‘Good for you, brother,’ she said in French, and raised her glass to him. ‘Salut.’

‘Salut,’ he murmured, and they both drank.

‘I’m sorry, have I missed something?’ Maeve was confused, looking at brother and sister. ‘How is that significant?’

‘My brother… has not had any… thoughts of this kind since Francis died,’ Bernadette explained slowly in English. ‘It is a… a big thing.’

‘Very, very big,’ Madame Rémy agreed.

‘Well…’ Leo said modestly, and the others all laughed.

Maeve, still wrestling with a feeling of uncertainty, felt his gaze on her face and blushed. ‘No,’ she said preemptively.

‘No?’

‘If you’re about to ask me to be your model, it’s a no.’

‘I see.’ Leo drank again, watching her contemplatively. ‘You have a reason for saying no?’

‘It’s just not my kind of thing.’ She raised her coffee to her lips, hoping it was cool enough to drink now.

‘There would be no nudity.’

She spluttered coffee everywhere and had to reach for a napkin. ‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘Nudity. You perhaps think I want to paint you with no clothes on?’

‘I certainly do not.’ She dabbed at her mouth, her heart pounding wildly. ‘I mean, that is… Do you?’

‘Non, non.’ He shook his head vehemently, and then paused, looking her up and down before repeating firmly, ‘Non.’

She couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or offended. ‘Non?’

‘Non.’

‘Okay, then.’

‘So now that you feel safe in accepting an invitation to sit for me, will you do me the honour, Miss Eden?’

‘Oh.’ Maeve had assumed he’d given up. But evidently not. ‘But why on earth would you want me as a model? Why not someone else? Bernadette, maybe?’

Bernadette choked on her drink.

‘Bah, non,’ Leo exclaimed, chuckling as he smacked his sister helpfully between the shoulder blades a few times. ‘Bernadette is not… Ah, she does not… inspire.’

‘Merci,’ Bernadette said, baring sharp white teeth at him.

‘Je t’en prie,’ he replied easily.

‘I know nothing about art,’ Maeve told him frankly.

‘You don’t need to know anything.’

‘I’ve never sat for an artist before.’

‘There’s nothing to it. The simplest thing in the world.’

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