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“It’s weird.”
Janine looked up from her palette. “What is?”
“Sitting like this without moving.”
“I know, but if you want your portrait painted, you have to.” She picked up her camera. “I’ll take a shot of you sitting there, so I can work on it when you’ve gone. Don’t move.”
“I’m not,” Nelia muttered through her half-closed mouth only squirming slightly on her chair in the studio.
Janine took the photo and picked up the palette again. “I’m just trying to mix the colour of your hair. Then I think we’ll be finished in about half an hour. One more sitting and after that I can do the rest on my own.”
“Good. Will it be ready in time?”
“Your father’s birthday is on Friday and today is Monday. Yes, I think we can manage that if you stop squirming.”
“Okay,” Nelia said impatiently and straightened her back. “I wouldn’t do this if I had enough money to buy him a present. But beggars can’t be choosers, Megan said, so I had to say yes when you offered.”
“I think your father will like it.” Janine applied chestnut colour to Nelia’s hair in the painting, then added honey highlights and a little dark grey near the hairline. She stood back and studied the effect. She nodded. Yes. It worked. The face would be more difficult. She wanted to catch Nelia’s ethereal beauty, the wistful sadness deep in her eyes, the slightly petulant twist of the mouth and the natural grace of her slender body. It all had to be there in this picture of Nelia: the way she was right now, neither child nor woman with her whole life ahead of her. “I’m trying to paint you as you are right now, frozen in time.”
“Frozen in time,” Nelia repeated. “I like that.” She twisted slightly. “The party will be fun. Megan has invited Assumpta and her mum and Beata and Boris and the twins.”
“And me.”
“What?” Nelia’s eyes widened. “She invited you? But I thought we said— I thought you didn’t want to meet anyone.”
“I’m not going.”
“Why?”
“Because, as you just said, I don’t want to meet anyone. Not that I think anyone around here would call the French newspapers and tell on me.”
Nelia giggled. “No. Not even Assumpta’s mum. She’s a sassy broad, Dad says.”
Janine’s brush froze in the air. “What did you say?”
“Sassy broad. It means—”
“I know what it means. Did your father really say that to you?”
“Not to me. He said it to Paudie. And Paudie said he knew what Dad meant and that she was the local bicycle years back, whatever that means. And he said that she’d got on the straight and narrow after she had Assumpta and become a pillar of the society, even if he didn’t know how long that would last.” Nelia drew breath.
“What did your father say to that?”
“Nothing much. Just that Rita—that’s Assumpta’s mum—is a hot chick and would never look truly respectable even if she dressed as a nun.”
“You shouldn’t listen to grown-up conversations like that.”
“I can’t help it. They don’t exactly whisper, you know. And when they sit on the wall outside the kitchen, and if the window is open and I’m doing my homework—”
“Please stop talking now, for just a minute. And sit as still as you can. I want to paint your face. Try to think about something nice. Something you love doing.”
“Okay.” Nelia breathed in, then out. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again and looked into the middle distance, there it was again, that wistful other-worldly expression Janine had tried to capture.
They were silent while Janine worked. “That’s it,” she said when she was finished. “You can relax now.”
Nelia sighed, stretched and jumped off the chair. “Finally. She went to the easel. “Can I see?”
Janine threw a cloth over the half-finished painting. “No. Not until it’s finished. But you don’t have to come and sit again. I can do the rest on my own.”
“Cool.” Nelia threw on her jacket. “I’ll come and collect the picture on Friday before the party.”
“Perfect. I’ll wrap it up for you.”
“Thanks. I can’t wait to see what Assumpta’s mum is like.”
“Neither can I,” Janine muttered as Nelia ran out of the house.
-o-
The portrait didn’t turn out as Janine had planned. After a break, she went back to it later that evening and she was struck by the haunting quality of the face, especially the eyes. She decided to concentrate on those features.
When she had finished, Janine stared at the painting for a long time, wondering if she had really painted it or someone else had been there, during the night and worked on it. Or if she had painted with her inner eye, the one that saw things she wasn’t often aware of until she saw a finished work. Was it her own young life, mingled with Nelia’s, which had ended up on the canvas? Whatever it was, the result was something quite amazing.
When Nelia saw the painting, she looked at it for a long time without speaking. Then she said, “Yes. It’s good. It’s me.” She studied the picture in silence for a moment. “And the moon? Is that about me becoming a woman?”
“Yes.” Janine breathed a sigh of relief. “You like it then?”
“I can’t say if I like it or not. I can just say that it feels right. It’s a strange painting, not like a portrait at all. Better than that, actually. Could you wrap it up for me so I can take it home?”
“Of course.” Janine took the painting off the easel. “Will your father like it?”
Nelia shrugged. “He will if he understands it. If he sees what’s really there. It’s like a test, you know?”
Janine wrapped up the painting in brown paper. “Yes. I do know. I hope he passes it.”
“I’ll let you know.” Nelia took the parcel. She looked at Janine with eyes that were nearly as haunting as those in the painting. “He’s a good dad. Let’s see if he’s a lot more than that.”
-o-
Janine changed her mind and decided to go to the party after all. She was beginning to feel a need to see people again. It had been a long time since she had socialised with anyone. With nervous trepidation, she put on a deep-purple silk shirt, a black pencil skirt and a pair of strappy stilettos. It’s only a small gathering, she said to herself as she brushed on mascara and applied a liberal amount of Dior Rouge on her full lips. No need to be nervous, she thought, as she drove the short distance to Megan and Paudie’s house. There won’t be anybody who’s a threat to me in any way. Only people I’ve met before who don’t know who I really am.
When Janine walked in, Nelia threw her arms around her. “Hello! I’m so happy to see you. You look amazing. Do you like my top?” She twirled, showing off a light-grey angora sweater that matched her eyes. “Megan got it for me in Paris, and she got me a bracelet and a really cool handbag too.” She pulled Janine into a large bright living room, where a group of people were gathered around a blazing fire.
“Everyone’s here,” Nelia said. “And you know them all except Assumpta’s mum, Rita, who’s the little blonde lady in the cream lace dress and Boris, the tall man with the strange accent who’s Beata’s partner.” She drew breath and looked at Megan. “Was that okay? You said to introduce everyone.”
Megan smiled and put her hand on Nelia’s cheek. “Brilliant. And now you and Assumpta can hand out the snacks, and I’ll serve the drinks so we can get the party started.”
“Hi, Janine,” Beata said beside her. “Nice to see you again.”
“You look very pretty,” Janine said. “I like your hair.”
“She had blowjob at hairdressers’,” said the tall, dark man beside her.
Beata rolled her eyes. “I wish. Boris, please try to speak some kind of understandable English tonight.”
Boris beamed at Janine. “I get things mixed up sometimes. Hello.” He grabbed her hand. “Nice to meet you. My Beata told me much about you. She looks so pretty tonight. She could be the Rose of Tralee. I will enter her name next year.”
Beata sighed. “I’ve told you a thousand times that it’s impossible. I can’t enter the Rose of Tralee. I’m too old, I’m married and I’m Polish.”
“You could be the Polish rose,” Boris argued.
Beata laughed. “Yeah, right. Who the fuck would vote for me?”
Boris frowned. “Please, Beata, I have told you not to say that word. I have to put earmuffs on the babies’ ears so they don’t learn such bad language.”
“Lovely couple,” Mick muttered in Janine’s ear. “Their bickering is highly entertaining. And of course, they’re devoted to each other.” He handed her a glass of sparkling wine. “Here. Prosecco. The poor man’s champagne.” He clinked glasses with her. “You look truly wonderful tonight, I might add.”
Janine returned his wide smile. “Happy Birthday. I’m sorry, I didn’t bring a present. I decided to come at the last minute.”
“Your presence is better than any present.” Mick gestured to the tiny blonde. “Rita, come over here and meet Janine.”
Rita shook Janine’s hand. “Hello there. I’m Assumpta’s mum. She told me she met you. She’s not easily impressed but she finds you ‘totally cool’.” With her curly blond hair, wide-set hazel eyes and high cheekbones, Rita was attractive in a wild Irish way.
Janine laughed. “Probably because I’m foreign.”
“Nah. It’s the way you talk to them like they’re adults. Makes ‘em feel important. ”
“Assumpta and Nelia are good friends already,” Janine remarked.
“Yes,” Rita agreed. “Could be that they’re both from single-parent families.”
“I think it’s a lot more than that. They really seem to be kindred spirits, even though they’re so different.”
“Weird combination, those two,” Rita chortled, looking at Nelia and Assumpta, their heads together, giggling at something on Assumpta’s smartphone.
“Yes, but they complement each other. Assumpta’s very confident. She seems to have had bad experiences with some of the girls in their class. But she fought back and won. Nelia would have found that very impressive.”
Rita nodded. “Probably. But Nelia’s also a brave girl. She takes her mum’s abandonment very well. They were never close, she said. But still.” Rita’s eyes were full of sympathy, “to be dumped by her mum and then being faced with a dad she never knew. Must have been tough.”
“Yes.” A thought struck Janine. “I met a friend of yours recently. Brian Moriarty?”
“Brian? Oh, yes. One of my best friends. He’s such a gas, isn’t he?”
“Very charming,” Janine agreed.
“Ah, he’s a great one for the women. A terrible flirt. I bet he found you gorgeous and let you know it.”
Janine laughed. “Yes. But in a very non-threatening way.”
“Totally. He’s got a good heart and would always be there for you no matter what. A true blue, you know?”
“Exactly.”
“We dated for a while. But then I was still so raw after my husband left me, so it didn’t really develop into anything. But he was very good for me then.”
“I can imagine.”
“I wouldn’t mind getting back with him. But perhaps there’s too much water under the bridge. An older man might be a different story. And he’ll never get over losing Fidelma.” Rita’s eyes drifted to Mick who was putting more logs into the fire. “But that one’s a firecracker,” she muttered in Janine’s ear. “He’d love you and leave you without a second thought. I’d stay clear of him if I were you.”
Janine lifted an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re doing?”
“Absolutely,” Rita said, still looking at Mick with lust in her eyes.
