The Girl in the Photograph

by Kirsty Ferry

  Stef lifted a hand and drew his finger down the side of Lissy’s face. It felt as if sparks were flashing off his fingertips and igniting her skin. His dark eyes were staring right into hers, only a few centimetres away and her heart beat a little faster.

  ‘Do you?’

  A movement in the corner caught her attention, something detaching itself from the shadows; then it was gone again.

  ‘Come on, Stef,’ she said suddenly. She pulled herself away from him, leaving him looking a little startled, his finger still crooked where it had been resting against her chin, his mouth slightly open as if he had just about been ready to brush her lips with his. ‘We have to go.’ Her voice came out all wavery and shaky and she didn’t like the way it sounded. She was one heartbeat away from throwing herself at him and begging him to take her, right there in the middle of the floor, but she knew they couldn’t stay there.

  ‘Your pictures.’ He anchored her with his grip of her hand. ‘What of the pictures and the paint box? What of Lorelei’s treasures?’

  ‘We don’t even know that they’re hers. Come on. We have to go.’ Her heart was beating fast again, and she could feel sweat trickling between her shoulder blades. Sea Scarr Hall was pushing down on Lissy and she couldn’t wait to be out of the place. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like she was suffocating and the only way to stop the horrible claustrophobic energy was to leave.

  There was a slight delay as she felt Stef dip down and she forced her eyes open to see him bending over and picking up the paint box and the pictures. She cast a final glance around the room and froze. Her heart started hammering in her chest and she drew a deep, shuddering breath as she saw the faint shadow of the dark-haired, dark-eyed man leaning against the windowsill where she had just been, watching them both with his arms folded.

  Stef flinched as Lissy twisted out of his grasp and practically flew out of the room.

  ‘Elisabetta!’ he called, straightening up with the box and pictures in his hand. ‘Wait for me! That staircase is dangerous!’ He hurried out after her, not bothering to shut the door behind him. He was half way along the corridor, jogging to catch her up, when he heard the unmistakeable sound of a door clashing shut.

  The sound served to give wings to his feet more than anything else he had ever encountered – and he refused to turn around and see which door had slammed. Eyes forwards, arms and legs powering through the chilly air, he came to the top of the staircase. ‘Elisabetta!’ he called again.

  ‘I’m going outside!’ The faint voice came at him through the darkness of the corridors down below and he knew somehow, she had managed to get down that horrible staircase. He heard her cursing as she clambered over the wreckage of the door panels and then he realised he was alone in that dangerous ruin of a house.

  There was a sound, very close behind him of a footstep – which may, he reasoned, have been an echo – but then he heard a breath and the rustle of silk too close to him for comfort.

  It was Stef’s turn to curse and he made short work of that dratted staircase, running down the steps to where they ended in a giant hole, then hurdling over the banister to land in some weird crouching stance in the deserted hallway.

  ‘I am also going outside!’ he cried and raced through the building, climbing over the same panels Lissy had just cleared and escaping into the gloom of the coastal twilight. He saw Lissy, right at the far side of the overgrown gardens. And it wasn’t long before he joined her.

  ‘I hate that house!’ Lissy shouted as Stef hurtled towards her. Her arms were wrapped around her body and she was genuinely terrified.

  ‘It is not the best of places,’ Stef agreed. He looked pretty dishevelled and Lissy’s heart bounced around a bit more as she saw him open his arms. She ran into them, closing her eyes and leaning her face against his chest. She didn’t want to look at that house anymore; all the excitement of exploring it had definitely dissipated with the emergence of the shadows and the strange feelings in that bedroom. Stef was real and he was safe and God he felt good.

  ‘I don’t think they wanted us there at the end. I felt like we were intruding,’ she muttered into his body. It sounded stupid and she knew it; her cheeks concurred, burning with embarrassment.

  ‘We are well out of it,’ said Stef. ‘I may not have done the right thing by rescuing the pictures, now I think about it. Maybe I should have left them there.’

  ‘I’m not bloody going back in to replace them! No way.’

  ‘Then they come with us,’ he said decisively. ‘And we do something with them later.’

  ‘Whenever later is,’ muttered Lissy. She looked up at the house and realised just how unnerved she had felt in Sea Scarr Hall. The image of that man leaning on the windowsill had shaken her up more than she cared to admit; but at least he hadn’t had the wretched gun with him. ‘It’s his picture, isn’t it? He’s the one.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The man from the beach the other night. He was in that room. I saw him. Maybe we should have left the things there.’

  ‘I don’t know. Did he look angry?’ Stef twisted around and looked at the Hall. ‘If you want me to, I’ll go back in for you. I’ll put him back—’

  ‘No! No, don’t. Don’t go back in. It’s too dangerous. And he didn’t look angry. He just looked – interested.’ She shuddered, hardly believing she was defending the gunman who had terrified her the other day. ‘Leave it for now.’ She wanted to add that when the man’s gaze had fixed on her, his eyes were like Stef’s, but she didn’t.

  ‘As you wish,’ said Stef softly. ‘Shall we go back to the beach?’ He took her hand and raised it up, kissing it. ‘Will you come and see if the moon rises over the sea?’

  Lissy’s hand tingled where his lips had brushed it. ‘I just want to be away from here. It’s all a bit grim and Gothic for me now. It’s not a game anymore. Will you just walk me home, please, and I’ll see you tomorrow?’

  Stef looked a little deflated. But no. It was too soon and her emotions were all over the place. That man in the room – she’d felt a pull to him that she couldn’t describe, gunman or no gunman. It was his eyes, definitely his eyes. And if she spent any longer with Stef, she’d fall into his eyes and never be able to climb back out.

  ‘Come, then.’ Stef took her hand properly and led her away from Sea Scarr Hall, back towards the beach and the Dower House and real life. The thrill of finding the treasures in the bedroom had also shrunk into nothingness, and she now felt vaguely disturbed by it all. She was very glad Stef had taken charge of them.

  ‘Hey. May I make a suggestion?’ he suddenly asked, pausing halfway down the pathway and turning towards her. He took both her hands in his and she didn’t resist or try to pull away.

  ‘You may,’ she said carefully.

  ‘May I suggest that tomorrow I come to collect you and we have a trip into Staithes? I would very much like to take some photographs. I have never been before and you have me intrigued with the artists you speak of. It is, I am sure, quite a different harbour town to Portofino. If you come with me, you can help me discover how that may be. I’m sure you would like to know more about your – what were they, plein air Impressionists? – as well.’

  Lissy half-smiled, not knowing if she were relieved or disappointed that all he had suggested was an outing. ‘I’d love to come.’

  ‘Thank you. I shall be here around eleven. Then we can have lunch in the town.’

  ‘Perfect,’ she replied.

  He squeezed her hands and recommenced walking down towards the Dower House.

  He took her as far as the door and leaned in, very gently. ‘Until tomorrow, bella,’ he whispered and kissed her, very softly, before pulling away and smiling down at her. ‘I shall take your treasures away with me as well; just in case you decide they are haunted objects or something.’

  ‘Ha!’ Lissy shook her head and smiled. ‘Yes. Take them. I’m not sure I want them here at the minute.’

  ‘Very well.’ Stef smiled ag
ain and kissed her hand. ‘Ciao.’ Then he walked away, back up to the road where he had left his car that morning.

  Gosh, was it just this morning? Lissy watched him until he disappeared into the shadows and went back into the Dower House.

  And she knew it was silly, but she made sure that all the doors were firmly locked – just in case anyone else decided to materialise on her beach that night.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sea Scarr Hall, 1905

  Lorelei was handed the note by the maid who served her breakfast.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said in some surprise. ‘Who delivered this?’

  ‘The summer visitor, Madam. He came to the kitchens very early – said he was up to catch the light or something.’ The girl blushed, clearly wondering if she’d said too much.

  Lorelei smiled and nodded at her. ‘He’s a photographer, as you might know. That will be why he wants the light.’

  ‘I see. Thank you.’ The girl bobbed a curtsey, her red hair escaping from her cap, her cheeks beetroot.

  ‘Oh – did he want an answer?’ asked Lorelei, half-standing, wondering if he was still there, waiting for her. It had been a couple of days since she had posed for him and she was desperate to see him again. She had worried that she had done something to upset him, but then the reasonable side of her told her that the man had to work, and was quite probably busy with his photographs. Plus, Walter had returned and she understood that Julian wouldn’t exactly want to risk seeing her if her husband was around.

  ‘No, Madam. He said he would see you later.’

  Lorelei’s heart leapt. ‘Thank you. You’re excused.’ The girl curtsied again and hurried away as Lorelei held the note, wondering if she dared open it in here. Walter was nowhere to be seen which was a blessing. But still – she didn’t want to risk his wrath. Her shoulder was still aching where he had slammed her up against the wall and shouted at her last night. Her bodice was too low, he had raged, and he could see the tops of her breasts. The whole time he was shouting at her, though, he had been shouting at her breasts, which was rather astonishing. However. She would go to her sitting room and open the note there – in the window, looking out at the Dower House.

  Breakfast was a rushed affair after that, but thank God Walter did not appear. He was probably sleeping off his whisky. But still, it seemed too long before she was eventually settled by the window, in her own room, carefully unfolding the note:

  Lady Scarsdale.

  I wonder if you would oblige me with your company this afternoon? I am intending to set up some scenic shots of the cove and surrounding area, and will be interested to see how a painter portrays the scene.

  Should you be available, I look forward to your company around one o’clock.

  Yours,

  Cooper

  Lorelei laughed. How formal! And of course, formal it had to be. If that letter were to fall into Walter’s hands, it couldn’t demonstrate anything but propriety and an interest in art. Although any mention of art might damn her in any case. Still … Her eyes drifted back to one word in it, though. Yours.

  She wondered if he really meant it?

  Julian was on the beach fifteen minutes early. He was prowling around, nervous, anxious that she wouldn’t come.

  He had kicked his shoes off and loosened his top button, his eyes scanning the pathway. Then he saw her, rounding the corner, running towards him, struggling with a portable easel and a paint box.

  ‘Lorelei!’ His heart rushed with love and he ran towards her waving. ‘Lorelei! Wait! I’ll help you!’

  She saw him coming and stopped, dumping the things on the ground and waving back. ‘Julian! I brought my painting materials!’

  ‘I’m coming!’ he called and took a few long strides up to her. Instead of reaching down for the paint things, he caught her by the waist and swung her round, setting her on her feet as she laughed delightedly.

  ‘Do you even intend to do any work?’ she asked, ‘or was this all an elaborate ruse to get me here? Because it worked.’

  ‘It’s a little bit of both,’ replied Julian. ‘Come. I’ll carry your things for you. I do need to do some work, and I suspect that you don’t often get a chance to come down here and paint, so I thought I’d give you the opportunity.’

  Lorelei put her hand up to her hair, pinning a dark strand back into place.

  She winced a little as she raised her arm and Julian frowned. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m more than all right. I’m with you. I think I was sleeping in an odd position. My shoulder’s a little stiff, that’s all.’ She fixed him with a smile that shone as brightly as the sun. ‘Now, what exactly are we going to do this afternoon?’

  ‘I’m going to set your things up next to mine,’ said Julian, ‘then we can try to tackle the same views in our different mediums. Later, we can compare the results.’

  ‘That’s rather unfair.’ Lorelei followed him as he walked down to the beach. ‘After all, you can take a photograph much quicker than I can paint a picture.’

  ‘I can. But I can take lots of different pictures, develop them, and perhaps make us a cup of tea whilst you work on your masterpiece.’

  ‘It’ll be a seascape,’ said Lorelei wryly. ‘But I like them.’

  ‘Then play around with the seascape. Do something different with it. Add the cliffs at each side. Add the Dower House. Add two people sitting on a rock. Do whatever you want. This is your chance to express yourself, outside, in the fresh air, and nobody will tell you it’s silly.’

  ‘I do like that idea,’ agreed Lorelei. ‘Here?’

  ‘Here on this piece of beach. Right here.’

  ‘Good.’ Lorelei looked up to her left, towards Sea Scarr.

  Julian followed her gaze. ‘Are we too overlooked here?’

  ‘No.’ Lorelei turned to him and smiled. ‘Let him look. He can see this is perfectly innocent. He asked where I was going with my things and I told him I was painting en plein air today. He had no argument. Apart from suggesting I bring a maid with me.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Yes. Phyllis is on her way – look.’

  Julian looked over Lorelei’s shoulder and saw a red-headed scrap of a maid coming around the corner, lugging a picnic hamper. ‘Oh.’ He felt deflated.

  ‘It’s all right. I’ve told her she doesn’t have to sit near us. I’ve given her some books to look at – Fairytales and what-not. Little Women. Alice in Wonderland. She loves reading, but she’s quite slow at it, and she doesn’t get the opportunity to do it very often, so that’s my gift to her; a day off on the beach! She’s got the books tucked in the hamper. I brought us all some food, anyway.’

  Julian perked up and laughed. ‘God bless you, Lady Bountiful. I’ll go and help her bring them down. But, yes – Lord Scarsdale. I feared as much. I did see him return, which is why I have been keeping my distance. I hope you can forgive me? I didn’t want to stay away, not really.’

  ‘I know why you had to.’ Lorelei smiled. ‘It’s all right.’ She turned her back on the window and stretched. ‘But this is just perfect. A perfect afternoon. He also said that I should keep my clothes on.’

  Julian stared at her. ‘Did he now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, well. No swimming today then,’ said Julian more flippantly than he felt.

  ‘No swimming today,’ she agreed. ‘But it doesn’t matter so much because I’m still with you.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Julian knew he had a silly grin on his face. He couldn’t take his eyes off Lorelei. ‘I like you being with me.’

  They were on the beach for several hours. There was nothing to complain about. It all looked very proper. Just as well he’d forced her to take that stupid little floozy with her – God knows what she might have done if she’d been alone. The thought of her flaunting her naked body in front of the summer visitor was abhorrent to him. It was disgusting. She was disgusting.

  Walter moved away from the telescope, but he still wa
sn’t satisfied.

  It did look very proper. But looks were deceiving and he knew that better than most. He thought he’d married an angel and he’d shackled himself to a whore. He caught himself thinking of her peeling a sea-soaked gown off and dropping it at his feet, apologising because she’d fallen into the water and spoiled her clothes, and all she had fit to wear was her undergarments.

  He looked back out of the telescope. She was dry. Bone dry. Nowhere near the water and packing up to come back to the Hall, by the looks of things.

  The filthy whore. The disgusting, filthy whore.

  Staithes, Present Day

  Lissy was ready long before eleven the next day. It wasn’t like her at all. She was usually a very careless kind of person – things in London ran on Lissy-time, and that was understood by everyone who knew her.

  Here, though, it was different. She was peering out of the window, trying to spot Stef coming down the pathway. In her mind, just as he knocked, she would wait a couple of minutes, then saunter to the door and open it, all surprised that he had come: Oh, Stef. You came? I didn’t expect you to. I’m not quite ready.

  In reality, she waited until about quarter to eleven and decided to have a walk up to the parking area where her visitors had all left their cars yesterday. She had a better view up there and could watch for him properly.

  Good grief, what was she becoming? She dipped her head and frowned at the ground as she walked up to the road. The Springtime Lissy wouldn’t have given a damn if anyone was coming to see her or not, especially not him. They’d come and if she was there to greet them, she was there. If she wasn’t, she wasn’t. Her cheeks burned ferociously as she recalled the time Jon and Becky had driven down to London, poor Becky more than a little bit pregnant, to meet Cori and Simon. She’d been out when they arrived. She’d been shopping. Good Lord, what had she become? When had she polished up that brittle, unfeeling veneer; built up a don’t-care attitude and expected everyone to dance to her tune?

  Summertime Lissy looked up and was ashamed to feel a couple of tears sliding down her cheeks. She was an awful person; she truly was. But then—