about art, apart from the fact that he had heard of and seen photographs of the Mona Lisa and a few other similarly famous pictures such as Renoir’s lusciously appointed ladies or Degas’ ballet dancers. His mother had one of the ballet dancers on the lid of a box that had originally contained chocolates but in which she now kept loose buttons. Cormac’s mother had also had a button box when he was a child, probably still did. It was something he had in common with Alec McCaffy. He doubted if he had much else.
‘Clarinda knows it, anyway,’ said Cormac, although he suspected quite a lot had rubbed off on the others too. He would not expect them to express their enthusiasm so openly, however, since they worked hard to appear laid back.
When they passed number 83 in the rue de l’Université Cormac began to have doubts. The next building was a corner café, and then they were on the Place du Palais Bourbon.
‘It’s not the kind of area you’d find a studio, Clarinda. It was in the old marble depot if I recall rightly. That’sthe National Assembly over there. The seat of the government.’
‘It said 87 in the book.’ Clarinda was frowning.
‘You can’t believe everything you read in books,’ said Robbie, skipping over a puddle.
There were several police vans parked on the rim of the square and a considerable number of police gathered in and around it. Some wore protective coverings on their lower limbs and carried riot shields.
‘They must be expecting a riot,’ said Robbie hopefully. A couple of the policemen had turned to look them over. ‘Maybe they’ll think we’ve come to make a protest about student rights. They might even spray us with tear gas. Bonjour! ’ He gave the two policemen a short bow.
‘That’s enough, Robbie,’ said Cormac. Robbie was known at school to be a tempter of providence as well as an occasional truant player. He truanted only when he got bored, so he claimed. He survived because he could do quite brilliant work when he put his mind to it.
‘It’s a pity we don’t have a camcorder with us,’ said Robbie. ‘We could make a video called Looking for Rodin’s atelier in the rue de l’Université sur la Rive Gauche de Paris while the police play silly buggers with their riot shields .’
‘And enter it for the Turner Prize,’ said Clarinda.
Robbie grinned at her and raised his thumb.
Clarinda was still looking round, hoping for enlightenment. Suddenly she stepped out and stopped a smartly dressed woman walking with a small yappy dog on a short lead. ‘ Excusez-moi, madame. Nous cherchons l’atelier de Rodin .’
‘ Ah, l’atelier de Rodin! ’ The woman tapped the dog on its nose to quieten it, then told them that the street numbers had been changed at some point. It seemed to happen in Paris. She shrugged. ‘ Mais l’atelier de Rodin —’ Why, she believed it had been demolished many years ago.
‘Another dream shattered,’ sighed Robbie, when woman and dog had departed. ‘So much for lucky 87!’
‘Oh, shut up, Robbie!’ said Clarinda, surprising him and Cormac by her vehemence.
A few days before they were due to leave, Anita Gibb, a member of the English department, came to see him with a couple of sheets of paper in her hand. ‘I’ve got rather an interesting essay here, from one of the fifth years. I thought you might like to read it. It falls into your province, rather.’ A little bemused smile was making her bottom lip twitch. ‘I set them an essay, you know the kind of thing, a day in the life of. The kindof essay they might have done in primary but I thought it might be interesting to see what they would do with it now. They could choose to do anyone they wished, known or unknown.’
It is spring but the morning is cool, with a chill wind coming off the river. I shiver and pull my coat tightly round me. I am feeling the cold even more than usual because I am nervous about this visit. Of course I am! What woman would not be,
‘Clarinda knows it, anyway,’ said Cormac, although he suspected quite a lot had rubbed off on the others too. He would not expect them to express their enthusiasm so openly, however, since they worked hard to appear laid back.
When they passed number 83 in the rue de l’Université Cormac began to have doubts. The next building was a corner café, and then they were on the Place du Palais Bourbon.
‘It’s not the kind of area you’d find a studio, Clarinda. It was in the old marble depot if I recall rightly. That’sthe National Assembly over there. The seat of the government.’
‘It said 87 in the book.’ Clarinda was frowning.
‘You can’t believe everything you read in books,’ said Robbie, skipping over a puddle.
There were several police vans parked on the rim of the square and a considerable number of police gathered in and around it. Some wore protective coverings on their lower limbs and carried riot shields.
‘They must be expecting a riot,’ said Robbie hopefully. A couple of the policemen had turned to look them over. ‘Maybe they’ll think we’ve come to make a protest about student rights. They might even spray us with tear gas. Bonjour! ’ He gave the two policemen a short bow.
‘That’s enough, Robbie,’ said Cormac. Robbie was known at school to be a tempter of providence as well as an occasional truant player. He truanted only when he got bored, so he claimed. He survived because he could do quite brilliant work when he put his mind to it.
‘It’s a pity we don’t have a camcorder with us,’ said Robbie. ‘We could make a video called Looking for Rodin’s atelier in the rue de l’Université sur la Rive Gauche de Paris while the police play silly buggers with their riot shields .’
‘And enter it for the Turner Prize,’ said Clarinda.
Robbie grinned at her and raised his thumb.
Clarinda was still looking round, hoping for enlightenment. Suddenly she stepped out and stopped a smartly dressed woman walking with a small yappy dog on a short lead. ‘ Excusez-moi, madame. Nous cherchons l’atelier de Rodin .’
‘ Ah, l’atelier de Rodin! ’ The woman tapped the dog on its nose to quieten it, then told them that the street numbers had been changed at some point. It seemed to happen in Paris. She shrugged. ‘ Mais l’atelier de Rodin —’ Why, she believed it had been demolished many years ago.
‘Another dream shattered,’ sighed Robbie, when woman and dog had departed. ‘So much for lucky 87!’
‘Oh, shut up, Robbie!’ said Clarinda, surprising him and Cormac by her vehemence.
A few days before they were due to leave, Anita Gibb, a member of the English department, came to see him with a couple of sheets of paper in her hand. ‘I’ve got rather an interesting essay here, from one of the fifth years. I thought you might like to read it. It falls into your province, rather.’ A little bemused smile was making her bottom lip twitch. ‘I set them an essay, you know the kind of thing, a day in the life of. The kindof essay they might have done in primary but I thought it might be interesting to see what they would do with it now. They could choose to do anyone they wished, known or unknown.’
It is spring but the morning is cool, with a chill wind coming off the river. I shiver and pull my coat tightly round me. I am feeling the cold even more than usual because I am nervous about this visit. Of course I am! What woman would not be,
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