The Girl in the Photograph

by Kirsty Ferry

  ‘You forget that I’m from Scotland.’ Julian laughed. ‘I’m quite used to a wee bit o’ rain. And shouldn’t I be introduced by a butler or somebody? I’m sure it’s not the done thing for the lady of the manor to open the door to waifs and strays.’

  ‘Nor was it the done thing to bring you champagne last night.’ Lorelei smiled and held the door wider so he could step inside the hallway. ‘Or perhaps to talk of shipwrecks and pirates on a rock. Florrie also pointed out that I shouldn’t have taken the champagne over to a guest. I told her exactly the same as I am telling you now. I am the hostess and what I say goes.’

  ‘Very pleased to hear it.’ He walked past her and she was deliciously aware of his warm body as he came close to her and stepped inside.

  ‘I think there is a storm coming,’ she said, for want of something better to say as he stood in the hall waiting for her. He seemed to fill the huge room with his presence; much more than Walter did. Unless Walter’s temper was in evidence, then there was no space for anything else.

  ‘I think you could be right,’ he replied. ‘Let’s hope your guests make it to London safely. I can’t imagine they’ll get a restful night in a moving metal box when a thunderstorm is going on outside.’

  ‘Well my husband has decided it is too risky for him to travel and he is only in Whitby.’

  ‘More fool him for staying away. I know where I would rather be,’ said Julian. Lorelei had a feeling that he wasn’t just referring to Sea Scarr Hall and she felt herself colour a little with pleasure.

  ‘In fact, that’s why I came back tonight,’ he continued. ‘I couldn’t bear to stay away. I was trying to think of an excuse when I was walking up here and I really can’t. Oh, yes – here’s one. I decided to take another photograph of Florrie. Oh, dear. What’s that, you say? She left at seven?’ He shook his head. ‘I suppose I had better leave then.’

  ‘Well. Walter will be away all night, so I am abandoned.’ Lorelei tried to keep her voice even. ‘So I’m more than happy for you to tarry here a little, Julian. And don’t you have a better excuse to be here?’ She glanced meaningfully at his wrist, where he had threaded a red ribbon through the buttons on his cuff.

  ‘Your husband’s abandoned you? Why, that is a terrible thing to do.’ Julian stepped to one side, ignoring the fact he had the ribbon on his wrist, and allowed Lorelei to lead the way into the drawing room. ‘I trust he will make it up to you when he returns.’

  ‘I doubt it. Please. Have a seat.’ She indicated a chair next to the window. ‘I’m quite happy to be abandoned. I have some work I need to do and I can’t work when he’s around.’

  ‘Oh! Well, if you’re busy, I’ll just—’

  Julian made to stand up again, but Lorelei waved him back into the seat. ‘No!’ The retort was sharper than she had meant it to be. ‘I mean to say, it’s perfectly all right for you to be here. The work I wanted to do was simply some artwork, and it can wait. I’d much rather have your company.’

  ‘You can have both,’ said Julian reasonably. ‘Oh – and you can have your ribbon back as well. See? You’re right. I had an excuse all along.’ He carefully unthreaded the ribbon and let it dangle enticingly, looped around his forefinger until Lorelei gave in, laughed and snatched it away. ‘If you want to work on something, I can sit with you. I’m no expert, but if you need a second opinion, I may be able to help with composition and so forth. I do have an eye for things. Especially beautiful things.’

  Lorelei felt a little flame of heat shimmy up her body. ‘Beautiful things? What do you mean?’

  ‘I think you know what I mean, Lady Scarsdale. Now, are you going to tell me what you are working on at all?’

  ‘No,’ she said. His face registered surprise; then she smiled mischievously. ‘I’m going to show you. Please – come with me? If you don’t mind accompanying a lady upstairs? Just to my sitting room, I hasten to add. It’s where I paint. There’s a wonderful view of the sea and the cove from the window. I can see the Dower House from there as well. So, effectively, I could spy on you, Mr Cooper.’

  ‘Ah! Intriguing. Yes, of course I’d like to see it. Lead the way, my lady.’ Julian stood up and bowed.

  Lorelei laughed. ‘Very well, then. This way.’

  She took Julian back through the foyer and towards the main staircase. More than a little aware that he was very close behind her, she began to ascend the staircase.

  She was wearing the ivory tea dress, and she was conscious of the skirts dragging up the stairs behind her. They seemed heavier, as if she couldn’t climb the steps quickly enough and she cringed as she remembered discarding her petticoats in Walter’s arms after that swim. It all seemed a lifetime ago now. She’d been lucky he hadn’t reacted more severely.

  ‘Aren’t you concerned that the servants might see you taking a strange man upstairs?’ Julian’s voice, sounding amused, broke into her thoughts.

  ‘Not at all.’ She paused and turned, looking back at Julian. They were almost the same height, as she stood up above him on the staircase, just like when she’d been at the Dower House with her programmes. ‘As I said, I make the rules.’ Her sharp eyes caught sight of a shadow pressing itself into the stairwell below and she raised her voice slightly. ‘And anybody who questions what I do, where I go or who I do it with, knows where the door is. I shall have no hesitation in dismissing people should rumours begin to circulate.’

  ‘Very much the mistress,’ murmured Julian, as the shadow peeled away from the wall and hurried into a nearby room. ‘Remind me never to cross you in any way.’

  ‘I don’t think you could cross me.’ It was Lorelei’s turn to sound amused. ‘I’m ever so glad my husband let the Dower House out to you this year.’ She caught the twang of Yorkshire in her voice and recovered herself. ‘It’s not long since it was renovated and I do feel he is trying to recoup the costs. Nobody has lived in it for years. Tell me, did you see the sconces in the window?’

  ‘Sconces?’ Julian frowned. ‘Well, I cannot say I have taken much notice of the interior of the house. The exterior and the things one finds to admire on the beach are far more interesting than a dull old interior.’

  ‘Hmmm. Indeed. Well, let me show you what I have in my sitting room; then we will see if the sconces at the Dower House are not more interesting after that.’

  She turned away again, hitched up her skirts and ran up the last few steps.

  The Cove, Present Day

  Lissy flopped down beside Becky; if she was over here, under the umbrella, away from Stef, it might make it easier for her to control her emotions as far as he was concerned.

  ‘Antissy!’ The child was there in an instant. ‘I sand you as well.’

  ‘She wants to tip sand on your feet,’ Becky explained. ‘It’s easier not to argue.’

  Lissy sighed and, stretching her legs out, gave herself up to Grace’s ministrations. ‘So, what do you think he’s doing in the beach hut?’ she asked as the first bucket load was upended on her feet. ‘Ouch!’ That, as Grace managed to stick the sharp edge of her spade into Lissy’s ankle, trying to poke a pure white shell out of the sand.

  ‘Ah. Got it. Thank you,’ said Grace politely; then she handed the shell to Becky and went back to digging.

  ‘Does she ever stop?’ asked Lissy, astonished.

  ‘No,’ replied Becky. ‘And back to your question – I don’t know what he’s doing. Did he not tell you?’

  ‘No.’ Lissy looked at Cori. ‘Do you know? He had a portfolio with him.’

  Cori shook her head. ‘Sorry. Maybe he’s setting something up?’

  ‘Maybe. The hut’s to be used as a changing room for these pictures. Jon’s been carrying equipment back and forwards all morning. I just worry that Stef might wander in and find one of us in there, naked or something …’ She shut up as she felt herself colouring.

  ‘Naked or something, naked or something,’ chanted Grace, hitting the top of the sand in the bucket with the spade.

  ‘Grace!’
cried Becky. ‘Anyway, Stef would have seen we were all here before he went in there. So your argument holds no water.’

  ‘I don’t even know why he came back,’ said Lissy. ‘If I’d have known, I would have told Jon not to bother.’ Grace emptied the next bucket of sand on Lissy’s knees. Lissy brushed the stuff away mechanically and folded her arms. ‘No. Not on the legs, Grace.’

  ‘On your feet then.’ Grace was undaunted. She started to brush the sand down towards Lissy’s ankles. The stuff was like glass being dragged across her hot skin and Lissy flinched.

  ‘Oh! Can I go to the little white house and play?’ Grace suddenly asked.

  Becky shook her head, beginning to protest but Lissy waved her arm, cutting her off. ‘Oh, why not. I’ll take you, Grace. Let’s go there now. You can see inside it. It’s like a giant doll’s house.’ She scrambled to her feet and held her hand out. Grace threw her spade down and put her hand in Lissy’s, and Lissy began to walk over to the beach hut, Grace running along beside her to keep pace.

  ‘You’re only taking her now because he’s in there!’ called Becky. ‘And you want to see what he’s up to!’

  Lissy stuck her chin in the air and ignored Becky. That wasn’t the reason at all. Of course it wasn’t.

  Stef was hunkered on the patio area, packing a few things back into his portfolio when he heard the slap, slap of pink jelly-sandals on the little path that surrounded the beach hut.

  ‘Hallo Stef!’ Grace was in the process of trying to scramble over the low fence, and Stef leaned over to pick her up. He stood her up in the middle of the yard and she clapped her hands. ‘Now, doll’s house.’ She turned and jogged into the beach hut. ‘Oh, wow!’

  Stef couldn’t help but laugh. ‘It is rather fine, is it not? But maybe you shouldn’t be here, no?’

  ‘Antissy’s here too,’ said Grace. ‘She’s coming. I ran away.’

  Lissy walked around the corner. ‘She did. She let go of my hand. She’s uncontrollable. Stef, it’s no good. I have to ask. What are you doing at the back door of my beach hut?’

  ‘I was investigating it.’ Stef grinned. ‘No, Grazia!’ he shouted as he peered into the hut. ‘Stay downstairs, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Okay!’ Grace shouted back. There was a soft flumf as she apparently threw herself onto the small couch, followed by an expression that sounded very much like a delighted, ‘Ooh!’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought it was big enough to investigate.’ Lissy frowned.

  ‘Have you been in?’ asked Stef.

  ‘Yes, when I first got here. It’s quite quaint, I think. I suggested Jon and Simon could store their costumes and equipment here if they didn’t want them on the beach when they were working.’

  ‘Ah and that is what I am doing.’ Stef smiled. ‘Storing equipment. Yes. That’s it. For Jon and Simon.’ He nodded.

  ‘Jon must have filled it up by now. Surely to goodness it’s not that big inside.’ She reached across him and took hold of the edge of the door, but Stef held it tight and she couldn’t open it any further.

  ‘Wheeeeee!’ came Grace’s voice.

  ‘Oh God, she’s probably making a slide out of the couch cushions.’ Lissy shook the door and glared at Stef. ‘Leave go. She could hurt herself and then Becky would kill me.’

  ‘Nope.’ Stef smiled at her again and stepped a little to the side. ‘She’s fine. I will bring you back sometime and we can explore together, once the equipment has been packed away.’

  ‘Explore what?’ asked Lissy. She shook the door again.

  Again, Stef held it tight. ‘The huge expanse of beach house.’ Stef shrugged. ‘We shall come back tonight. I want to see the moon rise above the sea.’

  ‘Does the moon rise from the east?’ she asked. ‘Because that’s the only way you’d see it rise over this part of the sea.’

  ‘I believe it does. Let’s come back later and find out.’

  ‘No,’ said Lissy. ‘You won’t be here later.’

  ‘Will I not? We shall see. Now.’ He poked his head into the house. ‘Grazia, come out. Time for some paddling in the water.’

  Grace appeared at the door. ‘Paddling? With you?’ She smiled up at Stef in that trusting way a well-loved and confident child has, sure that any adult they meet will defer to them.

  ‘Well. Yes. Why not?’ said Stef. ‘I shall leave my belongings here. My bag of special things – my sacchetto di cose speciali. Can you say that?’ She repeated the words in a good imitation of his accent. ‘Good girl. We shall have you speaking Italian like a bambina from Portofino soon. Why does your Antissy not speak Italian to you? It is a good time to learn when you are so tiny.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Grace took Stef’s hand. ‘You can talk it to me when you live with Antissy.’

  The little girl looked quite shocked when Stef burst out laughing and Lissy simply stared at the pair of them.

  Much later on, when the day was drawing to a close, Stef was sitting with Simon and Cori, flicking through some of Simon’s sketches. He laughed when he saw a few quick strokes depicting him and Lissy, with Grace between them, playing in the sea.

  ‘You three all looked great together.’ Simon said. ‘The composition worked perfectly.’

  Stef smiled, remembering the afternoon. Grace had had a short nap, then rallied after a picnic tea and demanded ‘Stefandantissy’ take her out into the water yet again before she had to go home. Jon had been busy in the beach hut and Becky had been helping Cori brush the salt and the tangles out of her long, red hair. Cori, still in her loose, white dress from whatever picture she’d posed for last, had yelped each time the comb caught on a knot and Becky had been blissfully oblivious to her protests.

  Stef and Lissy had taken a hand each and lifted Grace up and over each wave as it licked onto the beach. Then they’d carried her, dangling between them, shrieking with laughter, back up to the beach and dumped her on the sand near the rest of the adults. Stef was laughing with her, and was pleased to see that even Lissy was smiling – and it was a long, long time since he had seen that smile. It gave him hope.

  ‘That little girl is a perfect subject for a painting,’ mused Simon. Grace had been racing around after a football and had finally tumbled into an exhausted heap beside Becky. ‘I wonder whether I can borrow her when I’ve done this exhibition? I know it’s not exactly the sort of Pre-Raphaelite art I create, but I’m thinking of Millais?’

  He looked at Stef questioningly and Stef nodded. ‘Indeed. Millais would be an excellent choice.’

  ‘You weren’t thinking about that horrible Bubbles picture, were you?’ interjected Cori. ‘I hate that awful Little Lord Fauntleroy style.’

  ‘You know that I hate it too,’ said Simon with a laugh, ‘but it’s a fabulous piece of art. No. I was thinking more about Cherry Ripe or Meditation. The ones with the little dark-haired girls in them. Grace would be perfect.’

  ‘Oh! Yes. So she would. I’d forgotten about those ones.’ Cori patted him on the knee. ‘Good idea.’

  Stef looked at the two of them, so well-matched and so in tune with one another. He smiled, his eyes holding Cori’s as she glanced at him.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘A child can be the perfect addition to anything.’

  Cori dropped her gaze and began to gather her belongings towards her. ‘Well, whatever you decide to do about Grace, I’m glad Jon doesn’t want any more photographs out of me. I’ve had enough. I’m not sure if I’m Maud or Echo or plain old Cori. I just feel sorry for Becky, wearing that awful heavy medieval stuff. She said she just wanted to write some articles about the exhibition. At least I got this thing to wear.’ She tugged at the white gown and pulled a face. ‘I’m just going to leave it on, I think. It’s comfy and I can’t be bothered to change just to drive up to my gran’s. It’s been so bloody hot today as well. I can’t cope anymore. I’m pleased it’s cooling down a bit.’

  ‘And at least I’ve managed to produce one or two sketches to go alongside Jon’s photogr
aphs,’ Simon told Stef. ‘They’ll complement your work too, I should think. Would you be prepared to let me use a couple of your photos? I know you keep telling us no, but I’m trying one more time. I spoke to Jon and he said he would be honoured if you’d consider it.’

  Stef picked the sketch book up again and flicked a few pages back and forth as he frowned, considering it.

  Eventually, he nodded. ‘I did say no. I want people to go and admire your work and Jon’s, not mine. But you are right. It is clear you are a great artist and that you have an eye for all of this. I think, now, it will be good to see some of your quick pieces of work and our photographs depicting the same moment together: so yes – I shall agree. But only a couple. It’s not my moment – it’s you guys that need to shine here. It’s incredible that one instant can be captured so many different ways. Little Grace will probably forget most of it, but at least there will be a record of her father’s first London show. We shall all have a summer to remember, I think.’ Stef smiled as he handed the book back to Simon. A summer to remember. He hoped they would remember it for the right reasons this time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sea Scarr Hall, 1905

  Julian was much more interested in the small, dark figure a few steps ahead of him than he was in the sumptuous red carpet that covered the corridor, or the stern oil paintings of ancient Scarsdales that seemed to track their progress with dead eyes. He thought the cabinets full of stuffed animals and birds that lined the walls hideous, and wondered how someone like Lorelei could live in such a stifling environment.

  The woman led him along this corridor with an air of excitement and he admired the way the white lace frothed around her elbows and how the square neck of that beautiful dress made her look far more modest than he thought she really was, deep down.

  ‘Let us hope he stays away tonight, anyway.’ Lorelei hurried along the corridor to the room at the very end. ‘I don’t need him turning his nose up at my painting.’