Page 37 of Snowfall Over Halesmere House
‘Oui, Ella, you should move now. You are not used to this, and you will be tired very quickly.’
‘May I see?’ Relieved, she stretched protesting muscles, lifting the dress to point each foot and unwind her aching legs.
‘Non. This is rough, my first opportunity to read the shape of your body, capture your form.’ Noelle met her protest with a shrug. ‘Later, when you will hopefully recognise yourself. That is enough for today, I can build on what I have begun.’
Her concentration was still fixed on the easel, a hand moving across it again. ‘Max tells me he is impressed with your ideas for Halesmere, Ella.’
‘That’s nice.’ She felt a warm tingle of pleasure. She’d known it for herself, but it was lovely to hear it from Noelle too.
‘Of course, his mind is full of the children and his practice. It is no surprise the holiday business is not a priority to him.’ Noelle stuck her head round the easel to nod thoughtfully. ‘And that is where you come in, lovely, clever Ella.’
‘Oh?’ She was lingering. She knew she ought to be out of this gown and back in her jeans looking for Stan to talk about the open day, but Noelle seemed happy to chat now as she sketched.
‘I knew you were right for us the moment we spoke. Energy, ideas, support, that is what he needs after all that has happened.’
‘I was so sorry to hear about his wife. Such an awful thing for you all, especially with the children being so young.’
‘It was.’ Noelle shook her head as though banishing a memory she no longer wanted. ‘And I encouraged him to move so far away from London and you always wonder, don’t you? If you have done the right thing? I was not always present in his life,chérie, and I regret it. You don’t at the time, of course, other than guilt when you are busy. It took a while, to find our way back together.’
Ella was staring through the window, thinking of last night, Max and the children, how easy it had been to be with them, the fun they’d had dancing. ‘I imagine it must.’
‘Boarding school did not suit him, and he hated it.’ Noelle’s expression was anguished as she caught Ella’s eye. ‘I should not have left him there, but his father and I were travelling, and we could see no other way at the time. Today things are different, and he does not want to be the same father that he had.
‘Not that he sees his father very often, you understand; he lives in Brazil with his other partner and their children. He is a photographer, and he must live in the light. He hated the weather in England, and we were always moving. We both thought that Max would find stability at school. Stability yes, but not enough love from his family, and in time he loved only his music.’
Noelle frowned, glancing from the easel to Ella and back again, even though Ella was no longer holding the pose. ‘He plays so beautifully. Has he played for you yet?’ She carried on before Ella could reply. ‘You must ask him to play for you if he has not done so. It held him back, of course.’
‘What did?’
Noelle flushed, a redness creeping over her cheeks. ‘His lack of confidence. He didn’t make friends easily; he was always a very self-contained boy. He could have been good enough to play professionally had he found a way to overcome his nerves. But he hides it well. He laughs off what he does not want to hear or let people see. Victoria helped him for a time but of course she is gone and can do no more.’
Noelle’s sigh was stricken. ‘And now he has placed the piano where he cannot easily reach it. He cannot leave the children at night, and he assures me he does not want to play when I tell him I will stay with them. Sometimes I wish he would sell it; I think it only reminds him of what he used to do. He doesn’t seek joy in his life, Ella. He lives for his children.’
Ella’s heart was reaching for Max again, thinking of their conversation late on Sunday night when they’d talked of love and loss, always easier in the darkened hours before dawn. She, too, understood how to be alone in a crowd and wear a mask that she didn’t often let slip. She understood how shattering loss could hold a person back and make their lives less. She knew how caution, fear and uncertainty brought an ability to assess the risk of future hurt and whether the risk might outweigh the gain. How could she not understand, when she’d reduced her own life to the one she thought her sister might have lived? And Max too, a life lived for his children and not himself.
‘It was my fault, Ella, I know that I failed him. And now I can only try to be the grandmother his children deserve and offer them all my love and support.’ Noelle’s anguished gaze found Ella’s. ‘For as long as I can.’
Silence enveloped them as Noelle continued to sketch. Ella slipped behind the screen, carefully stepped out of the dress and hung it up, dislodging the rail. It faltered before tottering into a tangle of material and the gowns slid to the wooden, paint-spattered floor. Horrified, she gathered the gowns one by one, hanging them back up and scanning for signs of damage. Relieved once they were all in place, she pulled her jeans back on, searching for her bra, which had disappeared in the melee. She jumped as she heard the studio door being flung back and hurried footsteps clattering into the room.
‘Maman? Have you seen Ella? I need a word and Stan said he saw her coming up here.’
Aghast, she clutched her arms across her chest. Stan was another one who saw far too much; he seemed to know everyone’s movements. Ella spotted her jumper and grabbed it as though it were a lifebelt, yanking it over her head. It was better than nothing right now; she wasn’t entirely certain that Noelle wouldn’t direct Max straight to her hiding place behind the screen.
‘I see.’ Ella heard Max let out a breath. ‘You’re sketching her.’
‘Ella is here, Max, of course she is.’ Noelle sounded astonished that he should be surprised. ‘And you know better than to burst in when my door is closed. She is sitting for me, and I had to make a beginning.’
‘A start, Maman.’
‘Whatever. She is behind the screen, changing.’ A pause. ‘Belle, non?’
‘It’s not beautiful yet, it’s only the suggestion of a person. How do you expect me to tell?’
‘Yes, but you would already recognise Ella, would you not? The shape, her form? I had to draw her exactly as I saw her in that moment.’
‘I suppose.’ He sounded resigned. Ella’s toes were curling at the thought of him staring at the sketches. ‘Are you quite finished with her for today? May I borrow her?’
‘For today,oui. Ella?’
