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The Convalescent<\/strong><\/p>\n “She takes down my hair and does it like her own … she has me sit as she does, and I feel the absorption of her personality as I sit.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2013\u00a0 Jeanne Foster, model for Gwen John.<\/p>\n Only this, today \u2013 a letter, a nothing. You read it over while your tea goes cold \u2013 this is a kind of industry, a pretence at doing \u2013 but you\u2019re aware (aren\u2019t you?) that there was a cup, the pink a woman should be, or a child, the most striking thing, this pink, when you consider what it must contend with. Tan, oh, muted beige \u2013 that teapot \u2013 and the ultramarine or purple in the deepest silks of your dress. You are heavy with it \u2013 with the knowledge that there was tea, and you chose not to drink it \u2013 chose only to sit, and read. Are you really reading? To your cheeks, and about your eyes \u2013 there! A little pink again; shining not with health, but more like tears have been and gone. Wan girl \u2013 nothing of Boucher or Watteau about you \u2013 what have you been doing with yourself? Holed up in your rooms with the blinds down, denying the world. Paris itself! What\u2019s that, my dear, really? A smirk? A shadow about your chin, the slightest humour. Wry, an air of resignation. What is in that letter? Don\u2019t you know you should be doing? But \u2013 a woman falls into these two categories. Doing, the centre of life itself. The pink of a woman, and a child. Golden hair \u2013 yours is the brownest brown \u2013 and tea that is drunk and dispensed with. A healthy renewal, and continuation of all things. Tea plates put away and cakes eaten \u2013 the spirit in the flesh. In the Titian \u2013 see how Venus\u2019s feet have that orange pink dusty health that you are lacking: that one foot is more alive than you! Oh, she has been flirting, or withholding, she has been doing all the things a woman must! But you \u2013 so: you take the other role. To sit, to be still \u2013 for thoughts to rest upon. In silence in your room, not even rustling the pages of that letter. Not even disturbing the colours which hang about you \u2013 peach and gold and grey. Some man has words he would have you heed. Oh, do try \u2013 for your flesh to be more generous. That is all! It is not for you to be so thoughtful, for you to worry at the letter and leave the tea stewed in the pot. Dear! Don\u2019t you think I know? Every day at his studio I am not enough, or am too much. I beg to be allowed to be more to him. He can\u2019t turn me into stone. I know what is in that letter \u2013 it is a prop. These are the words you must hear, and no man\u2019s, as I paint you \u2013 in the afternoon lull, noises off \u2013 that city out there that wants you but which you must hold always at a distance, with that aloofness or a small smile\u2026 You are for me, in this room, with the blue of your dress, and the teapot full gold in the masked light \u2013 to do with what I will!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jenny Holden<\/strong>\u2019s stories have appeared in various places, including The Warwick Review, Mslexia, Brand, The Literateur<\/em> and Fuselit<\/em>. She was shortlisted for the 2013 Scott Prize for a debut collection of short stories. She has recently completed her first novel.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Convalescent “She takes down my hair and does it like her own … she has me sit as she does, and I feel the absorption of her personality as I sit.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2013\u00a0 Jeanne Foster, model for Gwen John. Only this, today \u2013 a letter, a nothing. You read it over while […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5492","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5492","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5492"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5492\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5496,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5492\/revisions\/5496"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5492"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5492"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5492"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}