Girl Reading (43 page)

She puts her cup back down, turns to face him. I am here to make it better, but not take it back. Dinesh, I don’t need you. But I do want you, I want you desperately. Which is not quite the same.

You aren’t leaving, then?

I was never leaving. Do
you
want to leave? I won’t fight you about it. People leave over less, don’t they? I know I’ve been away for a while. It wouldn’t be totally unexpected to find your life had moved on, and I don’t want to be unreasonable.

I’m not going anywhere.

It crossed your mind, though. It would be peculiar if it hadn’t. I put this off for longer than I intended.

Has anyone harmed you while you’ve been gone? If they did—

No, they haven’t.

I worry when you’re out of my protection.

But I’m not.

He says, I’m not making you happy, am I? It’s clear now.

She says, I’m not unhappy. Neither am I content. What’s more, I don’t think you are, either. We seem to have lost sight of what’s in front of us—I have, at any rate. You gave me good advice before, and you know how I detest it when you’re right. I’m suffocating. I thought I would come home so we can—I don’t know—talk, prioritize, be together. Make plans, the way we used to. I didn’t have anything specific in mind. We can just do nothing, if you prefer.

I see. Right . . . and that’s all?

Yes, that’s all.

Well then, okay.

She says, Have I given you a fright?

He says, A small one.

Sorry, that wasn’t my intention. How dreadful of me, how horrible for you. I deeply apologize, Dinesh, there’s no excuse for it. I’m truly sorry.

It’s forgotten.

Each is struck by the resemblance of Cloud to the other. Of the vibrating strings that join them.

Dinesh presses on: Besides, you’re right, I for one don’t want Cloud to be dependent on anybody. I would be a hypocrite if I wanted less for you.

No, but she shouldn’t be careless, either. She should value what is important, cherish what needs to be cherished. Are we broken, Dinesh? Did I break us?

No, we’re just rusty.

She nods in agreement, yes. That is nearer the mark; he is good that way.

Are you sure there’s nothing wrong at the museum?

More of the same, I’m afraid. You tell me about your work first. You said you were in a slump, but you never explained why.

We should resolve this absurd cat situation first. She goes on and on about it since you mentioned it.

Sincerity nearly gives in, but there is no point being falsely deferential, just be herself—that’s for the best, normality will restore their relationship faster. Their minds will rediscover old patterns; their bodies will fall back into step. Cloud can wait. Sincerity asks, How is your practice? I want to know about that uppermost. I want to know how it pleases you, and if it does not, what can be done to change it?

I’m afraid that could take all day.

I’ve nothing better to do.

Phoebe stretches, elongating her limbs. When resting in one spot such as this cushion, this room, she can stay put for several hours, then suddenly, unexpectedly, it is time for action, time for some attention, time to go. She likes to be left alone and she likes company, and she herself does not know which she wants until she wants it. What was tranquil becomes dull. What was private becomes insufferably remote. This chair and that chair and these bookshelves are now monuments to her isolation, cannot be eaten, are not lavishing her with compliments—no fuss when fuss is urgently required. She jumps expertly, lands expertly, is absorbed into the house she knows, its floors, its steps, its smells, its textures: it is her terrain. Her tabby coat would give splendid coverage in nooks and corners if her white chin white bib white socks did not give her away. She craves outside. Outside! Outside! Meows it until the back door is
opened for her, trots into the garden to find her favorite, here at ground height—rolls against her, rubs her head against her. This is what she wants. The rest of her desires vanish.

Dinesh Varma’s affection for the cat is tested daily. Phoebe is a vain and greedy creature. And competition. She has discovered Cloud lying on her front on a blanket on the grass, her textbook open and leaning over it, the other hand automatically reaching to acknowledge and stroke her beloved pet. Phoebe has never lost the appearance of a kitten, remains lean and cute and playful and therefore spoiled by the two women. Tart. Dinesh tries to recollect why he gave in, remonstrates with his past self. Gradually this gives way to a newer, deeper, altogether more serious anxiety and he shouts for Sincerity—

—who immediately appears and calmly asks what the matter is.

You were lurking.

I really wasn’t.

He gestures accusingly at their daughter.

Sincerity, quizzical. Why? What’s wrong?

Don’t you see?

Sincerity checks, for she may have missed the obvious; answers blankly that Cloud is studying for her course and what is the problem with that?

Not
that.

Sincerity looks again.

Cloud’s sandals have slipped off, she has crossed her feet in the air behind her. Tidy, painted toenails. She is wearing one of her flimsy vests, a strap lifting though not fallen from her shoulder. Engrossed.

A Note

Simone Martini,
Annunciation,
1333, Uffizi, Florence; and
The High Priestess (II)
in the traditional tarot deck.

Pieter Janssens Elinga,
Woman Reading,
1668–70, Alte Pinakothek, Munich. Also Pieter Janssens Elinga,
Still Life with Citrus Fruit,
1623–82, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford; Pieter Janssens Elinga,
Still Life “Toebackje”,
c. 1650, Museum Bredius, The Hague.

Angelica Kauffman,
Portrait of a Lady,
c. 1775, Tate Collection. Also Angelica Kauffman,
Ellis Cornelia Knight,
1793, Manchester Art Gallery, finished “out of friendship”; Angelica Kauffman,
Poor Maria,
1777, The Burghley House Collection.

Horatio Nelson King,
Giulia Grisi,
1860s, National Portrait Gallery, London. Also Julia Margaret Cameron,
Portrait of a Sybil (Mary Emily [“May”] Prinsep),
1870, National Portrait Gallery, London.

Duncan Grant,
Vanessa Bell (née Stephen),
c. 1916–17, National Portrait Gallery, London. Also Heinrich Vogeler,
Martha Vogeler,
c. 1905, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn; and reading nudes such as: Félix
Vallotton,
Reading Abandoned,
1924, Musée des Beaux-Arts, Paris; Théodore Roussel,
The Reading Girl,
1886–87, Tate Collection; Suzanne Valadon,
Female Nude,
1922, Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris.

Flickr.com,
Women and Girls Reading
pool, in particular photos of commuters on the subway and the tube.

William Wetmore Story,
The Libyan Sibyl,
1861–68, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC. Also Kimbei Kusakabe,
Woman Writing with Brush,
1890s, oldphotosjapan.com; Correggio’s
Mary Magdalene,
which was lost during the Second World War, though it was much emulated and these works survive: Friedrich Heinrich Füger,
The Penitent Magdalene,
1808, Neue Pinakothek, Munich; Jean-Jacques Henner,
Woman Reading,
c. 1880–90, Musée d’Orsay, Paris.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Bill Hamilton and colleagues at A. M. Heath for your expertise and professionalism. Thank you to Ursula Doyle and colleagues at Virago (and Little, Brown) for your talent and support. Thank you to Alexis Gargagliano and colleagues at Scribner (and Simon & Schuster) for your belief and energy. Thank you to Julie Stokes for your friendship. Thank you to Hilary Mantel for everything.

About the Author

Katie Ward was born in Somerset in 1979. She has worked in the public and voluntary sectors, including at a women’s refuge center, in the office of a member of Parliament, and in various community-based projects. She lives in Suffolk, England, with her husband and two cats.

 R
EADING
G
ROUP
G
UIDE

Girl Reading

by Katie Ward

I
NTRODUCTION

In this delicately crafted and richly imagined novel, Katie Ward conjures up the backdrop, characters, and stories captured in seven portraits of women reading throughout the centuries. Told in seven chapters,
Girl Reading
breathes life into static art and creates entire worlds for the stories’ subjects—from a young orphan posing for a religious painting in 1333 to a weary, career-minded woman being photographed in a bar in 2008. In
Girl Reading,
Katie Ward takes readers behind the canvas and into the yearning, painful, secretive, and hopeful lives of women who read, and the artists who capture them in the act.

T
OPICS
& Q
UESTIONS FOR
D
ISCUSSION

1. Have you read any other books that tell stories inspired by works of art? How do each of the writers use visual art as a springboard for their fiction?

2. 
Girl Reading
has a unique structure: the book comprises seven chapters, each inspired by the creation of a different piece of art in a different historical period. What does this particular structure bring to the book? What is the cumulative effect of these chapters?

3. What do you think Ward was looking for when she picked (or created) these seven works of art? Did you look up any of the pictures or paintings? Why or why not? Visit Katie Ward’s website at
http://www.katieward.co.uk/?page_id=52
to see the paintings and photographs that inspired the novel. Do you think it is necessary to see the portraits in order to fully appreciate the stories? Did looking at the portraits add to your understanding of
Girl Reading
? If so, how?

4. How did Ward’s writing style change as the chapters moved forward in time?

5. Ward weaves in references to paintings featured in previous chapters on several occasions throughout
Girl Reading
. What specific examples of these artistic references did you notice? How did they inform your ideas about the book?