The Girl Behind The Fan (Hidden Women) by Stella Knightley Page A

stood in front of the painting. Elaine and I hung back a little, though we were no less excited than she. Remi reached up to grab the cloth and pulled it off with a showman’s flourish. You could almost hear the blast of horns.
    ‘What?’
    Arlette’s face had changed. Her smile had disappeared. ‘But it doesn’t look anything like me.’
    ‘It looks exactly like you,’ said Remi. ‘It’s like you’re looking in a mirror.’
    ‘But my ears . . . They’re not that big. And you’ve made my face all lumpy. I look like a . . . I look like a potato!’
    Elaine sniggered into her hand and tried to disguise it as a sneeze, which only made things worse. I dropped my eyes to the floor. It was true that the portrait was not quite what I would have expected from Remi, who was ordinarily so careful to flatter, but it was also true that it was a very good likeness.
    ‘I promise you,’ said Remi. ‘I painted exactly what I saw. This, dear Arlette, is exactly what you look like.’
    ‘Like a peasant!’ Arlette exclaimed.
    By this time, Elaine could not control herself at all. She had to run from the room. I could hear her gasping for air in the corridor. I stared at the carpet, determined not to suffer the same outbreak. Remi was not so wise. He heard Elaine laughing in the corridor outside and let her hilarity infect him. His mouth began to twitch into a smile.
    ‘Is that what you think I am? A peasant?’
    Arlette fixed Remi with the hard look that made sure no one ever took advantage of her unless she wanted them to.
    ‘Arlette, please be reasonable. I painted what I saw.’
    ‘Perhaps you should get some eyeglasses.’
    ‘Perhaps you should get a looking-glass. This is what you look like. Tell her, Augustine. Tell her this is exactly what she looks like.’
    I could feel Arlette’s eyes upon me.
    ‘It is a good likeness,’ I said in an attempt to be diplomatic. ‘And I think it’s rather lovely.’
    ‘Oh, shut up,’ said Arlette. She turned back to Remi. ‘If you think I’m going to pay for this rubbish . . .’
    ‘If you think you’re not going to pay . . . After all the effort I’ve made.’
    ‘What? While you’ve been living under my roof, eating my food, sleeping with my maid . . .?’
    She made it sound so seedy.
    ‘The way I see it, you owe me money. Perhaps if you hadn’t been so fixated on Augustine, you would have taken better care over my portrait.’
    ‘The only thing that’s wrong here is your self-perception. You have an inflated idea of your beauty, Madame. As though that is what your gentleman callers flock to your door for. If you were really beautiful, one of them might have married you.’
    I could see now that Remi had taken a step too far. Arlette’s face grew red with fury.
    ‘Leave my house at once,’ Arlette shouted. ‘Leave and never come back. And take that horrible painting with you.’
    ‘With pleasure,’ said Remi.
    ‘You’ve no more talent than a child. I hope you don’t think you’re ever going to make a living from such pathetic daubs.’
    ‘I’m sure when I start to attract better models, my talent will improve immeasurably.’
    ‘You’re no gentleman,’ said Arlette.
    ‘Well, it goes without saying that you’re no lady.’
    ‘Oh!’ Arlette dealt him an open-handed slap to the face.
    I tried to intervene, but Arlette pushed me out of the way. Remi bade me stand behind him. I knew he would not return Arlette’s latest insult in kind, but I did not think she had finished with him and I wanted him to leave before she scratched out his eyes. She would calm down. Perhaps she would even come to see that the portrait was lovely. But not if Remi continued to trade insults with her.
    ‘Remi,’ I begged him. ‘You must leave. Go to the bistro. I’ll come and find you later.’
    ‘No, you won’t,’ said Arlette. This time she was talking to me. ‘Augustine Levert, you are a member of my household and already I have turned a blind eye to your