‘I didn’t say that!’
‘But you’re thinking it, aren’t you? I knew it was wrong to ask you. I’m so sorry, Orla. I didn’t want to put this pressure on you.’ He stood up, ready to leave.
‘Bill – I haven’t said no yet.’
He turned and looked at her. ‘No?’
‘But I haven’t said yes either. Can I think about it? How long do I have to decide?’
‘Knowing Mildred, not long.’
‘Give me tonight, okay? And I promise I’ll get back to you by morning.’
Bill puffed out his cheeks. ‘It’s more than I’d hoped for. You’re a good woman.’
‘Am I?’
‘Of course you are,’ Bill said, smiling at last. ‘But you obviously need a few more people to tell you that. Maybe you’ll find them at the village show, eh?’ He dared to wink at her, and she laughed.
‘Maybe.’
It was late afternoon when Luke went to find Orla.
‘Hey,’ he said, entering the china room, where she was dusting one of the shelves. ‘Fancy a trip out somewhere?’
‘In the van?’
‘Yep.’
‘Can One Ear come?’
‘Of course.’
‘Let me grab my hat.’
Five minutes later, the three of them were in the van and heading out of Lorford.
‘Had a good day?’ Luke asked her.
‘I saw Bill earlier,’ she told him.
‘Oh, yes? Is he okay?’
‘He had a proposition for me.’
‘Sounds interesting.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘It wasn’t?’
‘Oh, it was interesting all right, but I’m not sure it’s right for me.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Bill asked if I’d be interested in photographing the local village show next week.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘I said I’d think about it.’
‘So what do you think?’
‘My initial response was to run for the hills.’
‘I don’t think there are many of those in East Anglia!’
‘No,’ Orla agreed with a laugh. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘Well, do you want to do it?’
‘Not really.’
‘Then say no.’
‘But Bill’s been so kind to me.’
‘Then say yes.’
‘But I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.’
Luke shook his head. ‘If you really want my opinion, I think you should do it.’
‘Really?’
‘I think it would do you good. You’ve had that camera of yours pressed to your face for so long that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world beyond it.’
‘But I’d still have it pressed to my face if I did this job.’
‘Yes, but there’d be people on the other side of it instead of china cups.’
‘Don’t remind me!’
‘It’ll be fun!’
Orla stared out of the window as they passed through a deep green wood which cast its shade across the road.
‘I did used to love photographing people,’ she confessed.
‘Well, this could be your way back to that.’
‘But I don’t want to go back to my old job.’
‘Orla – in case you hadn’t noticed – you’ve been asked to photograph a few villagers at a local show, not do an eight-page spread for some highfalutin magazine.’
‘I know. But it seems like a very big deal when I’ve only been photographing cups and saucers for the last couple of years.’
They drove on in silence for a few moments.
‘I’ve got it!’ Luke said at last.
‘What?’
‘Practise on me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Photograph me!’
‘Are you serious?’
‘I’m not saying I’m the world’s greatest model, but I’m sure I can keep still long enough for you to take a few shots.’
Orla turned to face him. ‘You’d do that for me?’
‘Sure, it’ll be fun.’ He waited for her response. ‘So are we on?’
‘I suppose we could give it a go.’
After a brisk walk on the heath, they returned to the castle and Orla went to get her camera. Luke, who was suddenly feeling a little self-conscious, went to brush his hair and change his shirt. Why on earth had he volunteered to do this, he wondered? Well, it was to help a friend and put her at ease. Kind of ironic that it was him who now needed to be put at ease.
They met up in the great hall a few minutes later and he saw Orla was wearing her camera around her neck.
‘No putting these up online,’ he joked.
‘I wouldn’t!’ she said.
‘Yeah, I’m not as pretty as your china cups.’
She cast him a sympathetic look. ‘Nonsense! But you might look a bit out of place on my Galleria feed amongst all the crockery and flowers.’
‘Okay, how do you want me?’
‘How about leaning against the wall by the window?’
Luke moved towards the wall. ‘Here?’
Orla nodded, her camera in front of her face as she took the first photo. Luke stood perfectly still, scared to do something that might displease her.
‘You can move,’ she said. ‘Just be natural.’
‘I can’t be natural – I’ve got a camera pointing in my face.’
Orla shook her head. ‘I thought this was your way to encourage me to relax.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He rolled his head from side to side and tried again. ‘How about this?’ He fixed a smile on his face. Orla lowered her camera and cocked her head to one side. ‘Too much of a rictus grin?’
‘Little bit! Just try to relax.’
Luke nodded.
‘You don’t need to smile at all. It’s probably best if you don’t.’
‘Have I got a bad smile?’
‘No! I didn’t mean that. You’ve got a lovely smile, but it’s easier, more natural, if you relax your face. Look out of the window or find something in the room to look at.’
Luke did what he was told, fixing his gaze on a spot in the garden far below the castle window and, after a little while, he almost forgot that he was being photographed.
‘That’s it,’ Orla told him. ‘Just hold that for a little longer. And – yes! I think that might do for a first round.’
‘Can I look?’
Orla unhooked the camera strap from her neck and Luke looked at the images on the screen, his eyes narrowing as he took them in.
‘Wow! Do I really look like that?’
‘Of course you do. What did you think you looked like?’
‘I don’t know. Not that serious, I guess.’
‘Did Helen never photograph you?’
‘Not like this. I was usually grinning like an idiot on days out.’
‘She never took portraits of you?’
‘She was more into her trees and landscapes, you know? And I’ve never been a fan of the official portrait.’
‘How did it feel?’ she asked him.
‘Shouldn’t the question be how did it feel for you?’
Orla chewed her bottom lip. ‘I think I liked it.’
‘You sounded as if you did.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes. You sounded happy. Slightly bossy.’
‘I was not!’
Luke laughed at her obvious discomfort. ‘I mean, you’re a good director. You put me at my ease.’
‘And you put me at mine.’
‘So – mission accomplished?’ he dared to ask.
‘You mean I should take this assignment at the village show?’
He shrugged, trying not to make too big a deal out of it. ‘Up to you.’
Orla looked down at her camera, scrolling through the photos she’d just taken.
‘I suppose I could give it a go.’
&nbs
p; ‘Yeah?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’ Her face lit up and her eyes looked almost mischievous but, as quickly as that look of joy came, it vanished, as a dark cloud of fear and insecurity crossed her face. She looked so totally childlike that it made Luke feel instantly protective of her.
‘Orla? What’s the matter?’
She looked up at him, her face pale and anxious. ‘What if I’m making a terrible mistake?’
Chapter 16
The village hall was packed. It looked as if the whole of Lorford was crammed in there, and how splendid it looked. Long tables had been laid with white tablecloths, where vases burst with floral displays and pretty plates proudly showed home-made biscuits, brownies and other scrumptious delights. Orla took a few photographs, marvelling at a particularly shiny chocolate cake and a sumptuous Victoria sponge which seemed to defy gravity.
The children had their own section, which was full of creative fun, and there were plenty of the makers running around the hall. Orla had done her best to capture them. There was one very sweet girl wearing a pink tutu, but she just wouldn’t keep still. Orla smiled, acknowledging the fact that, when photographing, things were always much easier than people. You could never guarantee that a person would do what you wanted them to do, whereas a jug or a bowl or a cup would stay put and wouldn’t frown or go off in a strop or ruin your picture by not cooperating.
Other than her practice session with Luke, Orla hadn’t photographed a person since before her acid attack and the thought of doing so now terrified her, but she needn’t have worried about drawing attention to herself; everybody seemed preoccupied with doing their own thing. Everybody except Mildred Smy, whom Orla had been introduced to by Bill just before the village hall opened its doors to the public. She was heading towards Orla now. A handsome woman in her late sixties, she was wearing a smart dress in a particularly hideous shade of green and her platinum hair was swept up in a severe chignon.
‘Ah, Miss Kendrick! Is there anything I can get you? A cup of tea, perhaps? A slice of cake?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘Well, you’re doing a sterling job. Sterling!’ She gave a tight, uneasy smile and then bustled off into the room again.
Orla took a deep breath. She could do this, she told herself. These were good people – they weren’t a threat to her. They were her neighbours. But then a man walked up the steps onto the stage and called for everyone’s attention.
‘We’re about to announce the prizes!’ he called out. ‘Please help me in gathering everybody inside.’
Orla turned to see a few people leaving the village hall and realised that the room hadn’t been full to capacity, as it had seemed to her. But it was about to get very full indeed as a surge of people filed in from the tables of bric-a-brac and the entertainments outside. The noise level rose steadily and the warm day seemed even warmer now. Orla looked around the room in panic. The door seemed a very long way away, but she knew she had to get through it.
‘Orla?’
She heard Luke calling from somewhere behind her as she fled. She didn’t stop, pushing her way through the throng until she was out of the village hall, and into the relative peace and space of the road beyond.
‘Orla!’
Her heart was thudding and she felt hot and chilled at the same time as her breath left her body in great gasps.
‘Are you okay?’ Luke was beside her now, his hand on her shoulder. ‘Let’s get you home.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘I couldn’t do it.’
‘It’s fine. Nobody will mind.’
‘But I made a commitment.’
‘Don’t worry. You did your best.’
Orla felt her eyes filling with tears of frustration at her failure.
‘Orla – really – you did so well. I’m so proud of you!’
Orla let Luke take her back to the castle, and relief flooded her as soon as she was through the door. What had she been thinking? She knew she should never have agreed to such an assignment, and yet there was a part of her that longed to reach out and be a normal, functioning member of society again.
Only perhaps not just yet, a little voice said.
Luke made her a cup of tea and Orla sat in the blissful silence of the great hall, One Ear by her side, as if he knew she needed the physical comfort of his great body.
When Orla’s mobile rang, she picked it up and looked at the screen. It was her mother. Quickly, without giving it a moment’s thought, Orla switched her phone off. Today had tested her quite enough already.
The next day, Luke returned to his work in the castle, which meant venturing down to the basement and the mysterious section of board which somebody had seen fit to place against the stonework. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find behind it. It could be anything really.
Carefully, slowly, he began to prise the board away from the wall, revealing the pale Caen stone which had been hidden for so long. Why would somebody just section a random length of wall, he wondered? It didn’t make any sense. At least, it didn’t until he pulled the last of the board away.
For a stunned moment, Luke just stared. What he’d revealed left him speechless, and he gazed at it for a long time, not quite knowing what he was looking at. He certainly hadn’t ever come across anything like this before in the Home Counties he usually worked in.
There was only one thing he could do.
‘Orla?’ he shouted from the basement. Then, climbing a few steps, he shouted again. ‘ORLA!’ Honestly, he thought, there really should be some kind of bell or phone system in the castle for such emergencies. Luckily, One Ear heard his bellowing and started to bark, and it wasn’t long before he heard Orla’s footsteps.
‘Luke? You down there?’
‘Yes! Come and see what I’ve found.’
One Ear arrived first, charging down the spiral steps like a hairy cannonball. He was quickly followed by Orla, whose face was flushed from her exertion.
‘What is it? What’s happened?
‘I think you’re going to want to see this.’ He motioned towards the wall. ‘Remember it was boarded up? Well, this was what was behind it.’
Orla’s mouth fell open as she stared in wide-eyed wonder. ‘What on earth?’
‘Did you know this was here?’ Luke asked.
‘No. I’m not even sure what it is.’
‘Some kind of green man?’ Luke guessed.
Orla inched forward, bending down to take a closer look. The figure was no more than a foot high, carved from the beautifully pale Caen stone and looking so alive that Luke could well imagine him leaping out from the wall at any moment.
‘I’m not sure it is a green man,’ Orla said. ‘There aren’t any leaves around him.’
Luke took a step closer. ‘He seems to be made completely of hair.’
Orla shook her head. ‘Not just hair – scales too.’
‘Really?’ Luke examined it again. ‘You think that’s what they are?’ He reached out to touch them. ‘Not just some random pattern?’
‘I don’t think there’s anything random in its execution, do you?’
‘I suppose not. It’s just so strange. I was expecting to find a large damp patch, not a work of art like this.’
He took in the strange human-like face surrounded by a wilderness of long hair which flowed down over the scaly body. It had two thick arms and two chunky legs ending in a pair of feet, but there was something about it – an eerie quality – which gave the impression that it wasn’t altogether human.
‘I wonder how old it is and what it means,’ Orla said. ‘Do you think anyone in the village will know?’
‘I’d say it’s been hidden for a fair few years, but we could ask Bill, couldn’t we?’
‘Good idea. He’s been in Lorford all his life. If anybody will know, it’ll be Bill.’
Orla was the one to ring Bill, calling his mobile number for the first time.
‘I can pop
over right now if you like,’ he told her. ‘I’m just at the allotment. Give me ten minutes to put my tools away.’
Sure enough, ten minutes later and he was knocking on the door, setting One Ear off and alerting Orla to his arrival. He looked anxious, standing there, his cap in his hand as if he was about to enter a holy place.
‘Come on in, Bill.’
‘Everything all right? Young Luke okay?’
‘Oh, he’s fine. He’s discovered something in the basement and we’d like you to take a look.’
Bill blinked. ‘Nothing wrong, is there?’
Orla looked at Bill’s anxious face. ‘Don’t worry! We haven’t discovered any old bones. Although I suppose it is a body of sorts.’ She laughed as he blanched. ‘Come on – I’ll show you.’
She led Bill towards the stairs, venturing down into the coolness below, where Luke was examining the wall around the strange carved figure.
‘Hey, Bill,’ Luke said, briefly looking up.
‘Good Lord!’ Bill said as soon as he clapped eyes on it.
‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’ Orla said.
Bill scratched his head and looked at the room and the board which Luke had removed.
‘I’m taking it you’ve just uncovered this thing.’
‘Yes. Not what I was expecting to find. What do you make of it? We’re hoping we can find out something about it.’
Bill looked at the carving and shook his head. ‘Remarkable. I think you’ve got something a bit special here.’
‘Any idea what it is?’ Orla asked.
‘I’d hazard a guess that what we’re looking at is a representation of the Wild Man of Lorford.’
‘Wild Man?’ Luke said.
‘It’s part of Lorford legend.’
‘Do you know much about it?’ Orla asked.
‘Only what most folks know, that in medieval times – thirteenth century, I think, but I never was much for remembering dates and the like – a wild man of the sea was hauled up by fishermen. Nobody knew where he came from or if it was human or fish or something of the two.’
‘A merman?’ Orla suggested.
‘Your guess is as good as anyone’s,’ Bill said.
‘What happened to him?’ Luke asked.
‘Ah, well, that’s where my knowledge of him begins and ends.’
‘Oh,’ Orla said, frustrated.
‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ Bill told her. ‘Is there nothing in the castle’s records?’
The Beauty of Broken Things Page 19