Page 60 of The Seven Sisters
‘I have thought of bronze, of course, but I’m concerned that Our Lord will wear a greenish hue as the bronze ages in the wind and the rain. And besides, I wish all of Rio to look up and see Him wearing light-coloured robes rather than dark ones.’
‘I understand,’ said Landowski. ‘But if you are talking about thirty metres, I think that a stone statue of that height and size will be impossible to drag up a mountainside, let alone erect when you get there.’
‘Of course,’ Heitor agreed. ‘Which is why, with the interior architectural structure I hope to finalise while I’m in Europe, I believe theCristo’s outer shell must be cast in a mould, and then rebuilt piece by piece in Rio.’
‘Well, if you’ve seen enough in here, we will retire to the house and study the sketches I have made. Mademoiselle,’ Landowski said, turning his attention to Bel, ‘are you content to amuse yourself in theatelierwhile we two men talk? Or would you be more comfortable in the drawing room with my wife?’
‘I would be very happy here, thank you, monsieur,’ said Bel. ‘It’s a privilege to see the workings of youratelier.’
‘I’m sure if you ask him nicely, my assistant may rouse himself from Sun Yat-sen’s eyeball and provide you with some refreshment.’ Landowski nodded pointedly in the direction of the young man, then left theatelierwith Heitor.
The assistant, however, seemed oblivious to her presence as she wandered around, wishing she could move closer to watch what he was doing, but not wanting to disturb him. On the far side of the main workspace was an enormous oven, presumably used for firing the clay. To her left were two partitioned-off rooms: one a very basic washroom, also containing a large sink with bags of clay stacked up the walls around it; the other a small windowless kitchen. She moved into the mainatelierand glanced out of the back window, where she saw a number of enormous stone boulders of different shapes and sizes, presumably to be used by Landowski when he was sculpting in the future.
Having exhausted all immediate avenues of distraction, Bel spotted a rickety wooden chair and went to sit herself down on it. She watched the assistant, his head bent, working with total concentration. Ten minutes later, as the clock struck noon, he wiped his hands on his work shirt and abruptly looked up.
‘Lunch,’ he announced, and for the first time, he looked directly at Bel and smiled. ‘Bonjour, mademoiselle.’
Because his head had been lowered up until then, Bel had not been able to see his features. But as he smiled at her she felt a strange tipping in her stomach.
‘Bonjour.’ She smiled back at him shyly. He stood up and walked over to her and she too stood at his approach.
‘Forgive me, mademoiselle, for ignoring you,’ he said, speaking in French, ‘but I was concentrating on an eyeball and it is very delicate work.’ He stopped a metre away from her and studied her intently. ‘Have we met before? You seem familiar.’
‘No, I’m afraid that is impossible. I’ve only recently arrived from Rio de Janeiro.’
‘Then I am mistaken.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘I will not shake your hand, as my own is covered in clay. Excuse me for a few moments while I go and clean myself up.’
‘Of course,’ said Bel, her voice seeming to come out as no more than a forced whisper. She had stood up perfectly easily as he’d walked over to greet her, but now, as he disappeared into the room with the sink, she sat down abruptly, feeling dizzy and breathless. She wondered if she was coming down with the chill that Maria Elisa and her mother had been suffering from.
Five minutes later, the young man reappeared, divested of his smock and clad in a clean shirt. Her fingers moved a few centimetres forward of their own volition, instinctively wishing to run themselves through his long, wavy chestnut hair, to stroke the pale skin of his cheek, trace the shape of his perfect aquiline nose, and the full pink lips concealing his even white teeth. The faraway expression in his green eyes reminded her of Heitor’s: physically here, but with his inner thoughts elsewhere.
Bel suddenly realised that his lips were moving and a sound was coming out of his mouth. She realised he was asking her name. Shocked at her own reaction to his presence, she dragged herself out of her daydream, trying to pull herself together and speak lucidly in French.
‘Mademoiselle, are you feeling well? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘My apologies, I was . . . elsewhere. My name is Izabela, Izabela Bonifacio.’
‘Ah, like the old Queen of Spain,’ the assistant nodded.
‘And the late Princess of Brazil,’ she interjected quickly.
‘I regret to admit I know very little about your country and its history. Apart from the fact they rival us here in believing they produce the best cup of coffee.’
‘Certainly the best beans at least,’ she said defensively. ‘Obviously, I know a lot about your country,’ she said, wondering if she was sounding as witless as she felt.
‘Yes. Our art and culture have crossed the globe over many hundreds of years, whereas yours is still to emerge. And I have no doubt it will,’ he added. ‘Now, as you seem to have been abandoned by the professor and your friend the architect, perhaps I can offer you some lunch while you tell me more about Brazil.’
‘I . . .’ Bel glanced out of the window, vaguely nervous about the inappropriateness of the situation. She had never met this man in her life and she was alone with him. If her father or her fiancé could see her now . . .
The young man saw her concern and waved it away with a dismissive flick of his hand. ‘I can guarantee they will forget all about you while they are deep in discussion. And they may be gone for hours. So, if you do not wish to starve, please, sit yourself down at that table over there and I will prepare our lunch.’
The young man turned from her and began to walk across theateliertowards the kitchen she had glimpsed earlier.
‘Pardon me, monsieur, but what isyourname?’
He stopped and turned. ‘Forgive me, how rude I am. My name is Laurent, Laurent Brouilly.’
Bel sat down at the rough wooden bench placed in a small alcove in a corner of the room. A small chuckle escaped from her lips as she thought of the circumstances she found herself in. Alone with a young man, and not only that, one who was currently preparing lunch for them both. She had never seen Pai enter their kitchen, let alone prepare a meal.
