The Girl in the Photograph

by Kirsty Ferry

  ‘Good Lord.’ He walked out further, to the edge of the terrace, and saw her again; a living, breathing mermaid, her dark hair plaited with a red ribbon, streaming behind her as she headed towards the Siren’s Rock. She was, he could tell, determinedly looking straight ahead, not taking any notice of the Dower House at all, sticking her chin out of the water in a haughty fashion even as she swam.

  It amused him greatly. ‘Well now, Madame Mermaid,’ he said to nobody in particular. ‘I think I might just go for a swim myself.’

  He stripped off his outerwear there and then, dumping it all on the terrace and running down the steps towards the beach. The tide was coming in, but there were still a couple of hundred yards of warm sand to cover before he hit the water and splashed out as far as he could, then plunged full length into the sea. The water was deliciously cold and he gasped as it took his breath away; yet it wasn’t long before he was ploughing after the mermaid, his hair soaked, dripping stinging saltwater into his eyes as he focussed up ahead of him.

  ‘Fancy meeting you here!’ he called, as he approached Lorelei. ‘Such a big ocean and we happen to find each other right here, in this tiny cove. Good evening, Lady Scarsdale!’

  Lorelei stopped swimming and turned around, treading water. ‘Mr Cooper! How peculiar indeed. I never expected to see you here. How fortuitous.’

  ‘It is indeed. I thought for one moment that I had spotted a mermaid, and I decided to come out here and investigate.’ He sighed, also treading water, so they faced each other, bobbing up and down with the motion of the waves. Lorelei’s sea-green eyes were mischievous and Julian couldn’t help but grin. ‘I see now that it is not a mermaid, but a true Siren. A temptress, drawing me into her web. Or is that a spider? Do Sirens possess webs?’

  Lorelei laughed. ‘No. I don’t have a web, but I have a rock, and a necklace made of shells, and you are more than welcome to join me on my rock if you wish.’

  ‘A necklace made of shells? Why, I’m afraid you are mistaken, my lady. It appears to have become undone. Perhaps it is beneath our feet, floating in the ocean.’ He dived under the surface and grabbed Lorelei’s legs, giving her a quick tug downwards.

  He surfaced and she was laughing out loud. ‘Oh, Julian! What a shock. You made me scream out! How embarrassing.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Julian grinned. ‘It was too much to resist. Or—’ He pointed a finger at her. ‘It may have been the tentacles of a sea-monster grabbing you. Wait there. I’ll have to check again.’

  He made to dive down again and she shrieked, kicking her legs out and backing away from him laughing. ‘No! No, it’s not a sea-monster, I promise! I’m heading to the rock. You can check again after I’ve gone.’ She turned and kicked out, streaking away like a seal.

  ‘You can’t escape me that quickly!’ Julian shouted and swam after her as fast as he could.

  To his shame, Lorelei was the far better swimmer and she was already on the rock, squeezing her plait out and laughing at him by the time he scrambled up to sit beside her. The surface of the rock was rough on the bare skin of his legs, the late evening sun warm on his shoulders.

  He shook his wet hair out of his eyes and smiled at her. ‘The sea-monster disappeared. Odd, that. I’m only left with a mermaid.’

  ‘A mermaid who’ll have to go back to dry land soon.’ Lorelei sighed. ‘I wish I could stay here. It’s much nicer.’

  ‘I’ll build you a castle on this rock,’ promised Julian. He reached out and lifted her plait, weighing it in his palm, then letting it drop gently onto her shoulders. ‘And you can live in it forever. I’ll build it out of seashells for you, and I’ll decorate it with pirate gold and rubies.’

  ‘There are supposed to be some shipwrecks hereabout,’ said Lorelei. ‘Maybe there are treasure chests galore beneath the waves. Maybe, one day, something will turn up on the beach and I’ll see it and I’ll know it to be something wonderful.’

  ‘I’ve already had that happen to me.’ Julian traced his finger down her neck to her shoulders and let his hand drop away as it caught the edge of the stiff fabric of her bathing dress. ‘You’re shivering,’ he murmured, leaning very close to her ear. ‘Why’s that, Mermaid?’

  ‘I’m not shivering,’ whispered Lorelei. ‘I’m not cold. It’s not – that – sort of shivering.’ She dropped her gaze and studied her hands. ‘I should go.’

  Julian drew away from her and sighed. ‘Yes, you probably should. There are pirates hereabouts, as well as shipwrecks. Pirates are better than Sea Captains. But some of those pirates are contemptible fellows who would take advantage of a mermaid if they were left alone with her for too long.’

  ‘I’ve never met a pirate who I found contemptible.’ Lorelei looked up at him and their eyes locked.

  There was a beat and Julian leaned in again, inches away from her, their lips so close he could almost taste the saltwater on hers.

  Then he suddenly pulled away, jumped up and dived into the sea. ‘You probably should go,’ he called from his position a little way away from the rock. ‘You probably should.’

  Lorelei paused only for a moment, until she too stood up. She reached up and fiddled with her plait, then stretched her arms above her head and made a perfect dive of her own.

  She emerged, shaking the loose strands of hair from her face and smiled. ‘Race you!’ she cried and started off for the shore.

  Julian laughed and began to follow her. He paused, however, to change direction and rescue the red ribbon that was floating off, away from the rock and out to sea. Purposefully, he stayed out in the water and let her reach the shore, pick up her towel and discarded clothing from the dunes and run off, barefoot, towards the house.

  Julian smiled as he watched her go, then came to the shore himself. He wound the ribbon around his wrist and walked back to the Dower House whistling. He had the perfect excuse to return the ribbon to her later.

  It was almost as if she had loosened it deliberately.

  The Road to the Cove, Present Day

  Lissy drove back to the Dower House in her little MG. She’d spent the night in the spare bedroom, but she had barely slept, far too conscious of the man in the next room to her. It was bad enough that she’d had to borrow one of his shirts to wear over her pyjamas this morning and all she could smell was his aftershave. Surreptitiously, she kept dipping her nose inside the shirt and inhaling his scent. The owner of the shirt was following behind her in his own “hire vehicle” as he called it, and they pulled up, one after the other, on the verge at the turn-off for the private road.

  Lissy was just going to head down to the house and leave Stef to make his own way down, but as they reached the cove, she saw a couple waiting there, outside a small sports car. The girl’s hair was glinting red in the sunlight, the man’s shining golden beside her. The redhead was sitting down on the path; the man leaning on the vehicle.

  Lissy parked up and climbed out of the car. Stef was beside her in an instant.

  ‘Cori and Simon made it then,’ said Lissy.

  ‘Your London friends?’ replied Stef. ‘You’re right. She has the perfect looks for a model. And you say you have known her a while?’

  ‘Yes. We studied art history together. Then we lost touch and I found her in London again. Well. Simon found her and I just helped things along.’ Lissy looked at the pair of them – yet another success story. Why couldn’t she sort her own love life out as well as she could other peoples’?

  ‘She’s very beautiful. She reminds me of Lizzie Siddal, Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s muse. She was a real ‘stunner’ as they used to say.’ Stef half-smiled, his eyes on Cori.

  Lissy cast a sidelong glance at him, that old jealousy striking her like a punch to the stomach. ‘She’s put some weight on since I last saw her,’ she said, and immediately regretted how horrid that sounded. Poor Cori – there was no way she should be mean to her beautiful friend, just because Stef had a habit of going off with his models. She flushed and turned, slamming her car door shut
so she didn’t have to look at him.

  Cori stood up, and held her arms out to Lissy. ‘We thought you were on the beach. We saw a girl down there and wondered if it was you. I told Simon your hair wasn’t that long, and he said had I never heard of hair extensions.’ Cori shook her head. ‘But it doesn’t matter. You’re up here. And you’re late!’

  ‘Yes, I’m up here,’ agreed Lissy. ‘I had some issues last night and I – well – I didn’t spend the night in the Dower House.’

  Cori smiled, her gaze taking in the makeshift outfit and then sliding unbidden to Stef.

  ‘No!’ said Lissy, more sharply than was strictly necessary. ‘It was not like that. I thought I saw someone on the beach and …’ her voice trailed off. ‘I had to borrow this shirt; I wasn’t decent. I just had pyjamas on.’

  ‘Elisabetta was scared,’ said Stef, ‘but I think she is all right now. It is good to meet you. I’m Stefano Ricci.’ His voice was mellow and sexy and heavily accented, and Cori blushed to the roots of her hair as he took her hand and shook it.

  ‘Oh,’ said Cori.

  ‘No oh-ing, please,’ snapped Lissy, seeing how her friend’s eyes were roving around Stef’s person appreciatively – from the top of his curly, dark hair to the tips of his, thankfully covered, toes. ‘It wasn’t like that. It was scary. I thought I saw a man down there and it’s a private beach.’

  ‘Well, as Cori said, there was a woman down there before – that’s why we thought you were here,’ Simon put in. ‘Clearly it’s not that private. It’s good to meet you, Stefano. I’ve heard about you.’

  ‘Simon!’ Lissy was horrified. Curses that she’d ever mentioned the man to him. Hurriedly, she turned to Cori. ‘Stef is a friend of Jon’s.’

  ‘I was a friend of Elisabetta’s first.’ Stef smiled. ‘How are you guys? Simon and Cori? Yes?’ He looked at Cori and Lissy knew he was measuring up her red hair. ‘That is a beautiful name.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’ Cori pulled a face. ‘I hate it.’

  ‘Is it short for anything?’

  ‘Corisande. It’s an old family name.’

  ‘Ah. My name is a family name as well. My friends call me Stef.’ He smiled down at Lissy and Lissy felt herself colour. It should be impossible that his smiles could still have that effect on her. ‘I am a photographer. I am also a friend of Jon’s, truly, but Lissy and I go back a very long way.’

  ‘Please!’ Lissy turned to Cori, worrying that this was leading into dangerous territory. ‘It was a long time ago. Oh – goodness me, are you all right?’ She put her hand out as the colour suddenly drained out of Cori’s face.

  Cori blinked. ‘Sorry, the heat’s getting to me. Do you mind if I just …?’ She pointed to the ground and sat down again.

  ‘Oh, no, it’s all my fault. Really. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait out here for me,’ said Lissy. ‘Come on. Let’s get to the house. I’ll let Becky and Jon know you’re here, and we can get started.’ She suddenly smiled. ‘And I need some clothes. It’s so nice for us all to be together again, isn’t it?’

  ‘It has been good for me to see you again,’ murmured Stef, so quietly that Lissy knew he had meant it for her ears only.

  The Cove

  Stef thought it looked like a Laura Knight painting. They were all on that private little beach of Lissy’s and, if you were an outsider looking at the golden and blue canvas, there were studies of people dotted around the cove.

  Becky was sitting under a candy-striped umbrella on the beach with a very drawn-looking Cori and a much more cheerful Grace. Grace was digging holes enthusiastically, filling up her bucket and dumping piles of sand around the excavation area. Closer to the sea, Jon and Simon were pointing at the rocks, composing some sort of picture between them.

  Stef had left them there, clapped Jon on the back and was now striding over to the beach hut barefoot and long-legged, a portfolio under his arm. Lissy was drifting here and there with a tray of cold drinks, her toe-nails flashing scarlet in the sand. She was wearing the tiniest pair of shorts known to man, the widest brimmed straw hat he had ever seen and a classic white broderie anglaise camisole top.

  Stef voiced his thoughts to Lissy as he caught up with her. ‘It’s like a painting. It’s all the colours blending together and the people in it – I feel like it’s a Laura Knight come to life. It’s like Lamorna Cove.’

  ‘But it’s not Lamorna Cove. We can never go back to how it was at Lamorna Cove.’

  ‘I wish we could,’ said Stef with a sigh. ‘Although I would definitely change a few things.’

  ‘Would you now?’ For a moment, Lissy’s mask of perfection and veneer of disdain slipped and she seemed vulnerable – she looked like a young woman who had dealt with the biggest blow to her confidence she had ever anticipated; and he knew he was the one who had dealt that blow to her. It was nothing to be proud of.

  He wanted to be able to take her in his arms and apologise for it all over again. He wanted it all to have been different. He had suffered the consequences of that afternoon for years. He had no excuse. He should have tried harder to dissuade Kerensa, not let her play her little games or go so far. It wasn’t her he wanted and he’d known it then as he did now.

  Damn it.

  ‘I have to go and see what Grace is doing,’ said Lissy, before he could say anything further.

  Stef looked across at the umbrella and saw that Grace was digging holes industriously, emptying the resulting buckets of sand over Becky’s feet. ‘She looks fine to me.’

  ‘Becky needs my help.’ Lissy turned away and headed purposefully over to the little girl.

  Stef let her go. What else could he do? He sighed. He was far too good at letting her go; and that as well was nothing to be proud of. It was always too easy to let her walk away. He was no fool – he knew it was going to be harder to get her – if that was even possible – and keep her this time. Last time, he hadn’t fought hard enough. It had been easier to just give up and go away with Kerensa – who was, it had to be said, a more than willing companion.

  However, the fact that he was at least here with Lissy, breathing the same air, and close enough to touch her was a start. It was a very good start. And the warmth of the day was incredible; he couldn’t remember it being this warm in England for many a year. Of course, it couldn’t compare with that summer in Cornwall. Nothing could. He looked at Lissy playing Lady Bountiful with her tray of drinks and her burst of speed as she hurried across to Grace made him smile.

  Jon and Simon were so enthusiastic about what they were planning that he couldn’t help feeling enthusiastic with them, and his smile widened as he continued over to the beach hut. He turned the handle on the door to enter it and wasn’t surprised to see that it moved smoothly and without creaking; yet another sign that no expense had been spared on this little holiday home.

  The hut was fractionally cooler inside, but pretty stuffy. The door needed to be wedged open to let some air circulate, and, looking through the beach hut, he saw a back door which opened up onto the square patio garden area. He couldn’t risk leaving the front door open, just in case of prying eyes, so he took the few long strides he needed to cross the ground floor through a tiny kitchenette of sorts and threw the back door open. Then he turned to survey the place and a slow smile spread across his face.

  It was perfezione – perfection. There was a little seating area downstairs, a tiny lean-to at the back which he guessed was maybe a bathroom and the lovely garden area behind him. The hut even had a mezzanine floor, reached by a set of ten low, white winding stairs. The owners had thoughtfully added a double bed and a tiny bedside table to that floor, and it looked inviting up there – all white and crisp, with windows in the roof so they could lie there and look at the stars … They? He quickly brought himself back to reality. That was a little premature, perhaps. He had to win her back first. It might be a difficult task, but after that, he dreamed that he would be able to lie on the bed with her here and watch the stars.

  Having
said that, he would forego the star-watching and settle for daylight, so long as he got her back. Having her so close to him last night had reminded him of how much he wanted to have her next to him forever.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sea Scar Hall, 1905

  Lorelei had a clear view across the cove and the sky was certainly more threatening than it had been earlier. There were huge, black clouds rolling in now and they seemed to be sinking into the sea. It was only just after eight o’clock and she just wished the storm would come, blow over as they usually did and then she could stop peeking out of the window and go to bed, even if it was ridiculously early. She knew now what they meant by a ‘sea-change’ – this was very different to the warm weather she had experienced a little earlier.

  In fact, no. She wouldn’t go to bed. She would paint. That’s what she would do. She was still fizzing from her swim with Julian and she knew there was no way she could settle.

  She was putting the finishing touches to a little seascape she had been working on over the past few weeks. Walter did not encourage her art, so she seized every chance she had when he was away or otherwise engaged to work on it. Her painting and drawing skills were getting rusty and she didn’t like that feeling.

  Just as she was about to pull the curtains closed and shut out the impending storm, Lorelei saw a figure coming up towards the house. She pressed her face closer to the window. Cursing under her breath, she hoped that her husband hadn’t decided to come home after all.

  Then she recognised the loping gait and the too long hair. The figure was wearing a loose white shirt and had his hands in his pockets and Lorelei’s heart gave a little skip.

  ‘Julian!’ She hurried across the room and ran out into the hallway and down the stairs. She pulled the heavy front door open and greeted him. ‘Julian! What a wonderful surprise. Do come in.’ She cast a glance at the sky. ‘It does look rather ominous out there and I’m sure you will be warmer and drier inside if the worst happens.’