Chapter 15

Camille was pinned to a wall by a man, her bare legs wrapped around his back, her ankles crossed where her high, buttoned boots began. He groaned and called her name. I recognised the voice at once. How dare he touch my beautiful Camille? I was filled with a molten jealousy that rose up from my core and erupted as I shouted his name: ‘Rodin!’

They stopped and looked at me. I clapped my hand over my mouth and stared back at them. There were voices in the stairwell; I knew Rosa wouldn’t turn a hair, but the men would be shocked, or worse. Camille would be ruined. I had to act quickly.

I called down: ‘Could you go back and catch the cabby? I think I’ve left my favourite gloves on the seat.’ Footsteps clattered down the stone steps and I heard Rosa whistling and shouting in the street. I pulled back the curtains again.

Camille was calmly working on a sculpture. Rodin stood in the shadows, both hands on his cane, watching her.

I pulled off my gloves and tucked them into my sleeves. ‘I’m sorry we’re early.’

Camille did not look up from her work. ‘Did the others see?’

‘No.’

She came over to me and put her arms around my waist. ‘Merci, Jessie, merci.’ Her curls had come undone from the knot on top of her head. I smoothed them from her eyes and shook her skirts free of dust, like a maid of honour attending to a bride. The curtain moved and we turned to face it, side by side. William stepped into the room. He must have sensed the tension in the air and he looked at us for a long moment.

‘No sign of your gloves, Jessie, I’m afraid. Camille, lovely to see you again.’

‘Hello, William,’ she said with a warm smile. ‘There is someone I want you to meet.’

Rodin emerged from the shadows.