31

Paris, November 1928

‘So, at last the statue is finished.’ Professor Landowski thumped his workbench in relief. ‘But now the crazy Brazilian needs me to make a scale model of his Christ’s head and hands. The head will be nearly four metres high, so it will only just fit into the studio. The fingers too will almost reach the rafters. All of us here in the atelier will, in the most literal sense, experience Christ’s hand upon us,’ Landowski joked. ‘Then, so da Silva Costa tells me, once I have finished this, he will carve my creations up like joints of beef in order to ship them over to Rio de Janeiro. Never before have I worked liked this. But,’ he sighed, ‘perhaps I should trust to his madness.’

‘Perhaps you have no choice,’ agreed Laurent.

‘Well, it pays the bills, Brouilly, although I can accept no more commissions until Our Lord’s head and hands are gone from my atelier. There would simply be no room. So, we begin. Bring me the casts you made of the two ladies’ hands some weeks ago. I must have something to work with.’

Laurent went to retrieve the casts from the storeroom and placed them in front of Landowski. The two men studied them intently.

‘They both have beautiful, sensitive fingers, but I must think how they will look when each hand stretches for more than three metres,’ Landowski commented. ‘Now, Brouilly, don’t you have a home to go to?’

This was the signal that Landowski wished to be left alone. ‘Of course, professor. I will see you tomorrow.’

On his way out of the atelier, Laurent found the young boy sitting on the stone bench on the terrace outside. The evening was chilly but clear, and the stars formed a perfect canopy above them. Laurent sat down next to him, watching him gazing up to the heavens.

‘You like stars?’ Laurent ventured, although he had long ago accepted he would never receive a reply.

The boy gave a short smile and nodded.

‘There is the belt of Orion.’ Laurent pointed to it. ‘And close by are The Seven Sisters in a cluster together. With their parents, Atlas and Pleione, watching over them.’

Laurent saw the boy was following his finger and listening intently. ‘My father was interested in astronomy, and kept a telescope in one of the attic rooms on the top floor of our chateau. Sometimes, he would take it up to the roof on clear nights and teach me about the stars. I once saw a shooting star, and thought it the most magical thing I had ever seen.’ He looked at the young boy. ‘Do you have parents?’

The boy pretended not to hear him, and simply continued to gaze upwards.

‘Ah well, I must be going.’ He patted the boy on the head. ‘Goodnight.’

Laurent managed to hitch a lift on the back of a motorcycle for part of the journey back to Montparnasse. When he arrived in his attic room, he saw a shape huddled in his bed. Another body lay asleep on a mattress on the floor. This wasn’t unusual, especially as these days he so often stayed at Landowski’s atelier.