HASSAN NAJMI
and its rear façade overlooked a courtyard and garden. Its lower floor housed Gertrude’s spacious apartment with its living area and studio, which she had turned into an art gallery. Its upper floor, Gertrude told him, had been furnished as a spare living area for temporary boarders. When he opened the door, he saw neither Gertrude nor Alice. Instead he encountered another woman. Scrutinizing his features, she treated him to a sweeping, inquisitive glance that sent a shiver through him.
“Is Mademoiselle Gertrude here, Madame?” “Who wishes to know, Sir?” He nearly asked her whether she was Hélène, the maid, about whom he knew everything thanks to Alice’s longwinded prattling in Tangiers. However, before he could ask, he heard Alice shout: “Hélène, who’s at the door?”
In no time at all, Alice poked her head out, revealing her aquiline nose. She had undoubtedly been expecting him, since she evinced no amazement or even surprise, and Mohammed concluded that his most recent letters to Gertrude must have prepared the way for his arrival.
After they had exchanged the initial greetings and niceties, Alice invited him to take a seat while the Mademoiselle came down from her room on the second floor. He set down his heavy luggage and relaxed into a comfortable armchair.The second floor wasn’t exactly a second floor. Rather, it was a room that was raised slightly in keeping with an interior architectural design that resembled a duplex. Hélène served as a conversation starter for Mohammed and Alice. She was a marvellous French maid: kind-hearted, hard-working, practical in all ways, and patient, though, Alice told him, she wasn’t jovial. She stopped to catch her breath then broke into more chatter.
“Oh! Now don’t say a thing! She’s just finished her ninth year with us. But the poor thing will be leaving us soon. Her husband has decided he doesn’t want her to work for other people from now on, and she has no choice but to abide by his wishes.”
“Gertrude was really pained by this decision,” Alice continued. “She truly loves her, and tells everybody about her. She even writes about her in some of the stories she publishes. As you yourself know, she’s constantly mentioning her and talking about her – even when she’s travelling – whenever the context warrants it . . . and to every-
94 BANIPAL 43 – CELEBRATING DENYS JOHNSON-DAVIES
