Lying for the Camera chapter 11

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8(i)

Chapter 8(ii)

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Her invitation said plus one. She’d wondered about that. Did he really mean her to turn up with some other guy? Or was it just a thing that the gallery put on all the invitations? In the end, she asked her mother to come.

“There will be pictures of me.”

“Yes, darling.”

“In some of them, I will be naked.”

“Well, it is art, I suppose.”

Hattie laughed. “I suppose so. But also, there will be famous people and free food.”

“I hope you’re going to wear a pretty dress. Something that covers your tummy, dear.”

“I’m pregnant. I’m allowed to show off my stomach.”

“Yes, well. Kate Middleton dressed very nicely when she was pregnant.”

“Kate Middleton is a size nothing.”

“I’m just saying you don’t have to flaunt yourself.”

“Mum, I’m a model!” She was, too. She’d done half a dozen jobs through the agency. Clients liked her and were beginning to re-book her. Andy was extremely pleased with her and Hattie was extremely pleased that she’d only done six days of temping in the past month. Soon she’d be able to give it up altogether.

She still fitted into the dress she’d bought for the exhibition opening before she knew she was pregnant. Her cleavage was slightly more spectacular than usual and the silk jersey draped around her stomach a little tighter than she’d planned. But the vivid purple still clashed marvellously with her hair, and it still showed off her curves to dramatic effect. She knew she’d got it right when her mother pursed her lips and had to visibly restrain herself from suggesting that Hattie might like to wear a pashmina over her dress.

The gallery was almost full when they arrived. Hattie’s mother went to freshen up in the ladies’ room, leaving Hattie free to make her entrance the way she wanted. She stood at the top of the steps down into the main gallery. She set one hand on her hip and struck a pose. Then waited.

Tom spotted her first.

He stopped dead in the middle of a conversation and simply stared at her. The man he’d been talking too turned to look, and gave an appreciative smile. He turned back to ask Tom something and got a distracted nod in reply. Around them, the crowds began to turn in her direction until finally the whole room was looking at her.

She let a slow smile creep across her face. “Well, good evening everyone.”

Taking one step at a time, she descended and let the crowds part in front of her. They seemed to know where she was headed.

Tom held out his hands to her and, when she laid hers in them, bent to kiss her on both cheeks.

“How long have you been planning that?” he murmured.

“Weeks.”

“It was worth it.”

“How’s it going?”

He smiled, glanced round anxiously, smiled again. “No idea at all.”

Hattie laughed. “Have you sold anything?”

“I think so. Yes, a few.”

“Well, that’s great. Have you sold any of me?”

He looked sheepish. “I didn’t put them on sale.”

“Why not? Aren’t they good enough?”

“You’ll see. I have to talk to people now, Hattie.”

“Oh. Okay. Just, first, this is my mother.” She’d joined them in the centre of the room.

“Pleasure to meet you Mrs Bell.”

“And you, Tom. I hope we’ll be seeing a lot of you in the future.”

Hattie saw his eyes twitch. They hadn’t made any decisions or any promises. She still didn’t know how much Tom wanted to be involved in the baby’s life, let alone her life. Though judging from his reaction to her in the purple dress, he still wanted something.

“Mum, he’s got important people to talk to.”

“More important than the mother of his child?”

“Mum!”

“It’s okay,” Tom reassured them. “I would like to meet you again another time, Mrs Bell, But I’m afraid I do have obligations this evening. I hope you enjoy the show.”

They wandered past the landscapes first. Urban architecture made to appear fragile against the onslaught of nature. There were amazing collages of images juxtaposing texture and colour and form to create something magical from the everyday. It was fascinating to Hattie to see the world from Tom’s perspective. There was something in his photographs that reflected his fears. Man was ultimately powerless in these images. The strongest, toughest man-made structures could still be invaded and brought down by the creeping growth of natural structures. He was hopeless in his surrender, only able to observe the defeat, powerless to stop it.

They made Hattie want to weep for him. Pregnancy hormones, obviously. She fumbled in her bag for a tissue and hoped that her mascara was waterproof.

“Oh. Hattie.”

She looked to see where her mother was pointing and then wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before. The whole wall at the back of the gallery was taken up with just one image. Unframed, it had been made to appear as though it was painted directly onto the plaster of the wall. Hattie walked towards it as if in a trance.

She didn’t remember him taking this. It wasn’t from the shots he’d set up. She was sitting on the floor, near the fireplace of the huge drawing room. Her old cardigan had been pulled over the white nightgown he’d made her wear. Someone must have just said something funny because she was looking up and her eyes were alight with laughter. Her hair was bright with sunlight and her skin luminescent. Larger than life, literally, but it didn’t attempt to disguise the fact that in life, she was large.

“You’re beautiful,” she heard her mother whisper, as though she’d just discovered an extraordinary truth.

It was true. In that moment, captured and enlarged by Tom, she was beautiful. Other people were mesmerized by it too. She saw them, trying to walk away, have conversations, look at other pictures, but compelled to keep turning back, shoot glances over their shoulder, step closer again.

She felt the same. She never wanted to stop looking at it. She’d always believed that she was beautiful. Had no shame in her body. Others had seen it too – the woman who’d done the pastel drawing of her at the life drawing class had known it. But Tom had done something more. He’d shown her beauty to the whole world. She’d never have to defend it to anyone, never have to explain to them, never have to overcome their prejudice. She could just show them this picture.

“There are others.” Hattie glanced at her mother, surprised to remember she was still there. She gestured to another part of the gallery. “I think you should look, Hattie.”

So she did, with a last lingering look at herself on the wall. In the next section, she found the images she’d been expecting. The cobweb photo she’d seen on Tom’s laptop. A couple of nude shots. Then she was surprised to find some of the pictures he’d taken for her portfolio. They were good, but they weren’t the sort of thing she’d expected in an art gallery.

“He loves you.”

Hattie shook her head.

Her mother smiled. “Look at them again, Hattie, and ask yourself what Tom sees in you.”

Her vulnerability. He’d told her that. But there was more. He’d captured her sense of fun and her confidence. He’d shown her strengths and her weaknesses. She was there in this pictures. Alive, as three-dimensional as in her own body. And loved.

She could see it now. There was a tenderness in the portraits that she hadn’t noticed at first. A care for the person at the heart of them. They wanted to show that she was special, cared for, protected, loved.

Which made the shock of the last picture all the greater.

Hattie shuddered, flooded with memories of that day on the shoot. Her fear of the horse, trying to relax, then losing control, terror rising, flying through the air…

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Tom had his arm around her waist and his head bent close to hers.

“I don’t know why it scares me so much. It’s just a picture.”

His lips twitched. “They’re all just pictures, Hattie. But it’s my job to make them mean more than that.”

“They do. You’re good.”

“This one brings back bad memories too, probably.”

“It wasn’t the best day.”

“No.” He seemed to be struggling to find words to speak next. “I wanted to leave it out of the show.”

“Why?” It was a good photo. It worked with the theme of the exhibition.

“I was ashamed of it. You were in danger and I just took photos of it.”

“Tom.” She turned to him.

“No, let me finish. I felt guilty. You know that. You know why.”

“Lianne.”

He took deep breath. “Yes, Lianne. But I’ve realised something these last few weeks, Hattie. You’re not Lianne.”

She nodded. That was pretty obvious.

“You… when you were in trouble, when you were scared, you phoned me.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing. You asked for help.” His face screwed up with tension. “Lianne never asked for help.”

“Oh, Tom.” She put a hand on his cheek. “You couldn’t have saved her.”

“I know. I know that now.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiled. “Did you see the picture of you?”

“Which one?” she teased.

“Hattie.”

“Yes. Thank you. It’s the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, Hattie.”

God, where was that tissue? That mascara wasn’t waterproof and she could already feel her eyes misting over again. Tom wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

“I love you, Hattie Bell. Miss Community Service, 2005.”

He gazed down at her until she shivered with the intensity of it.

“Well?” he prompted gently.

“I love you too, Tom Metcalfe. So very much.” She slid her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. It was a sloppy kiss, wet with tears and chaotic with laughs and failed attempts to speak, but it didn’t matter. It was Tom and he loved her and she wouldn’t have swapped it for any other kiss in her life.

“Marry me?”

She couldn’t have heard him right. She pulled back slightly, enough to see his face. “What?”

He smiled but she could see the tension in his jaw. “I want it all, Hattie. The house, the children, the family car, the wedding ring. The commitment.”

She closed her eyes and took a breath. “You don’t have to promise anything. Love is enough.”

“No.” He was shaking his head. “Love is enough, but love means making the promise. Taking the responsibility. Saying the words.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Hattie, I put together an entire exhibition to show you I mean that.”

She grinned. “Not the entire exhibition.”

“Well, okay. Not the lichen-covered rubble.”

“But the rest?”

“The rest is all about you, Hattie. To show you I love you. To show you I’m serious.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. “Please.”

She took his face in her hands and kissed him again, softly. “Yes.”