HIDDEN by Linda Gillard

Author:Linda Gillard [Gillard, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-05T22:00:00+00:00

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Brodie was shocked by Esme’s physical deterioration. She had lost more weight and her eyes shifted back and forth in nervous agitation. He suspected she rarely left the house now. To judge from the prodigious quantity and quality of her new work, he concluded she must do little other than paint. But if Esme herself lacked colour and vigour, her paintings did not. He was thrilled by the new work, though Esme’s interest in female unfortunates was troubling, all the more so since they were clearly self-portraits. The work was confident, but Esme herself looked drained and seemed a little depressed, as if she’d poured all her energies into her art.

He wondered if, when she regarded him, she would see he had done likewise. Would she notice the pallor on which his housekeeper and some patients had commented? Had his recent lack of appetite etched the lines more deeply on his already lean face? As a busy doctor, he spent little time before a looking-glass, but he’d taken special care with shaving and brushed his wayward hair thoroughly before leaving home. He hadn’t questioned his motives, nor had he much liked what he’d seen. There were shadows under his eyes that betokened sleepless nights and a guilty conscience.

He stood before a portrait called Thaïsa. Was she the wife of Pericles? He didn’t know the play well enough to understand the narrative of the painting, but could this portrait be understood in any rational way? Was it a picture of one woman or several? Since all the women looked the same, he assumed the different figures represented different aspects of one woman. Was she dead or merely sleeping? From the careful arrangement of her hair and hands, he thought she was probably dead. Was there not a lost daughter, born at sea...? Marina? Perhaps Thaïsa had died in childbirth. Perhaps the young woman who seemed to rise from the lifeless body was the daughter. But no, surely the waif-like figure, with her lost and frightened eyes must be the daughter.

Brodie was fascinated by the picture. When he approached or stood back, when he turned his head and looked at the portrait askance, he saw something different each time. A new expression in the girl’s eyes; a flicker of life on the face of the dead woman. He suspected you could look at this painting for days and always see something new. He was determined to own it and hoped it was still for sale.

Leafing through his catalogue, looking for any notes that might elucidate the portrait, he became aware of a change in the atmosphere in the gallery. So engrossed had he been in the portrait, he hadn’t noticed people making their way to the door, hurriedly and with a little anxiety. He realised afterwards he’d heard the distant sound of rockets being fired without registering it as an air raid warning. Now as the lights of the gallery were being extinguished and the door stood open, he could hear the repeated blasts of a policeman’s whistle and cries of “Take cover”.

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