Page 127 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘So what? She’s married.’

Sophie laughed. ‘I really can’t believe you’re that naive.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Can’t you see? All she and Justin talk about is her career. It’s more of a business arrangement. At least for Anna. Wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to sleep with you again.’

‘Would that upset you?’

‘I’d have to think about that,’ she said. ‘I do feel very close to you. Anyway, let me go or she’ll lock me up in solitary confinement for the rest of the week,’ and Sophie hung up the phone.

It was a very luxurious house arrest, despite Sophie’s protestations. She looked around her charming Provençal room – soft hues of white, cream and beige, a huge bed with a woven Berger headboard and, above it, a gold-framed mirror reflecting a fine painting of pink roses in a crystal vase.

On the dressing table, beside the French window, a little glass jar of jasmine and lavender sprigs filled the room with a fresh, clean scent.

A shaft of early morning sunlight streamed through the voile curtains and caressed her cheeks. And that pink stone terrace, overlooking the glorious bay… Yes, if only… just for a few hours… Maybe lunch at La Colombe d’Or, the fabulous hotel in St Paul with its art collection and glamorous guests, and who knows… ?

‘Good morning.’ Anna peeped round the door. ‘Didn’t you hear me knock?’

‘Sorry, I was on the terrace, drawing.’

‘Oh, were you? I thought I heard you laughing.’ Anna spied the easel through the curtains. ‘Good to work early, isn’t it? I usually start writing at six. Shall I put your tray outside?’

‘Yes, please,’ Sophie replied.

‘So, were you chatting to someone?’

‘Yes, Damien rang.’

‘Oh yes. And how was he?’ Anna’s voice had that sharp edge again. ‘I really think that you should concentrate on your illustrations.’

‘I am.’ Sophie took the tray and put it on the bistro table by the easel.

‘Can I see what you’ve been doing?’

‘Not yet. This afternoon – when I’ve completed it.’

‘Well, you’d better get that fire burning. You have four more days to finish the other images and you still haven’t shown me the first one.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll bring it out to you.’

Anna sat in the wicker chair and waited. Yes, she really needed to see the work in progress. She really needed to make sure Sophie was on the right track.

Anna clenched the arms of her chair and straightened her back as if she were about to take off into space. She must give her confidence. Do for Sophie what Damien did for her.

Ever since her affair with him, she had never felt the same about herself. Not even Justin gave her that sense of self-worth. Yes, her husband was pleased to do deals on her behalf, but Damien… Well, he had been the greatest cheerleader and an extraordinary teacher.

‘Your imagination is trapped, spinning in your mind. Free it. Stop thinking. Let the words out. The night is best – no distractions. Remember, the writer Saul Bellow said, “You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write”.’

He had touched her with his words. She loved him for that.

But now she was married he never picked up the phone, asked her how she was. How she envied Sophie.

‘Here we are.’ Her sister stepped out onto the terrace and placed the illustration on the easel. ‘What do you think?’

Anna scanned the pen and ink lines of a young boy standing by the window gazing at the moon.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘it’s good. The profile of a child with a teddy bear is beautifully drawn, a universal image. However’ – she hesitated – ‘the children of today are used to seeing stylisedimages, more modern. Single lines… Have confidence. Commit yourself to the first line you draw. But I love the colourscape – magenta, blue and yellow.’

---