‘Maybe we can find your camera, too,’ she said softly.
One eyebrow rose, as if Luc was surprised to learn that she’d noticed the loss of the camera, but he didn’t say anything. He turned towards the steps, using his torch to illuminate the path and, silently, Sophie followed him.
* * *
For a while, as they scrambled over the rocks and shone the beam of torchlight into crevasses and tiny pools of trapped sea water, it felt hopeful. As if they could conjure up a miracle simply because they believed it could happen and they would see the kind of sparkle that could only be reflected by the facets of a beautifully cut diamond.
They used the photo on Luc’s camera to zone in on exactly where Henri and Natalia had been standing, kissing, when the fork of lightning split the sky, but who knew when the chain of the necklace had broken and how far it could have been flung if it had been caught on fingers in the frantic struggle to free the wedding dress and scramble out of harm’s way?
‘I’m sorry,’ Luc said, eventually. Reluctantly. ‘I don’t think we’re going to find it. Maybe we can come back in the daylight?’
‘It’s one tiny stone,’ Sophie said. ‘And there must be a million places it could be hiding on this beach.’ She let her breath out in a resigned sigh. ‘Perhaps it’s a reminder that it’s not a good idea to cling to the past.’
Luc wanted to tell her that holding on to precious memories was not a bad thing.That he could remember every moment of being with Tom when he chose that necklace.
‘Do you think she’d like this one?’
‘Why wouldn’t she?’
‘It’s a love heart. Isn’t that a bit cheesy?’
‘Not when it’s a symbol of exactly how you feel about someone.’
‘I’m sorry, too,’ Sophie said softly. ‘I know how important that old camera was to you. It’s hard to remember a time when you didn’t have it slung over your shoulder.’
‘Yeah… it was special.’ Luc’s voice caught. ‘But it’s still just a thing. It’s people that matter, not things.’ He drew in a sharp breath. ‘Come on… Let’s go.’
Without thinking, he held out his hand to help Sophie off the rock she was standing on beside him. He hadn’t expected her to take it, but what he’d expected even less than that was how it would feel to have her skin touching his. Really touching it. Not an accidental brush but a handhold, her fingers wrapped around his, putting enough weight into the hold for it to advertise her trust that he would prevent her from losing her balance. That she was trustinghim.
Mon Dieu… It felt like she was holding his heart.
By tacit agreement they let go of each other’s hand as soon as they reached the handrail beside the steps. It felt like another unspoken suggestion that they both paused on the upper terrace to look out to sea. The moon was up far enough for its light to be a wide, silver streak on the inky water, rippled at its edges, pointing straight to where Luc and Sophie were standing.
For a long moment, they stood there in silence, both holding on to the rail. If Luc moved his little finger, he could probably make contact with Sophie’s hand, but he didn’t. He didn’t need to. He could still remember exactly what it felt like to have her hand touching his.
It was Sophie who broke the silence.
‘What was it about that camera that was so special?’ she asked quietly. ‘It was really old, wasn’t it? The sort you put rolls of film into?’
‘It was a 1962 Leica M3. I first saw it in the window of our local pawn shop when I was thirteen years old. I walked past it every day on the way to and from school and I really, really wanted it but it had a price tag of four hundred pounds. It might as well have been four thousand pounds to anyone from Camberwell Towers. Totally pie in the sky.’
He could feel how intently Sophie was listening to him. ‘So how did you get to own it?’
‘On my way home from school, I’d stop for a minute and just stare at it. It sat there, month after month, gathering dust but suddenly, after about a year, it was gone.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘I was gutted. Someone had boughtmycamera. I actually stood there, trying not to cry and the guy who ran the shop came out and wanted to know what my problem was and I just shrugged and said I’d known all along that someone else would buy that camera before I’d saved up enough. He said it hadn’t been sold, he’d just decided to put something else in the window. And then he looked at me and asked if I’d like a job after school so I could save up a bit faster. He said he’d put the camera aside and, if I worked hard enough, he might even knock something off the price.’
‘Did he?’
‘Yeah. After a year of hard work on my part. But there I was, holding my dream. It felt like a key. I didn’t know what for but that’s how exciting it was. It was going to take me somewhere new. Somewhere a hell of a lot better than where I was.’ Luc had to stop and take a slow breath. ‘That was how I met Tom. I’d taken the camera out to try and get some cool shots of graffiti and there he was, under a bridge, doing a drug deal with the dodgiest guy I knew from one of the gangs on the estate. I took a photo of him but when he came at me he must have seen that I was prepared to fight to the death to save my camera and he cleared off.’
He let his breath out in a huff. ‘I didn’t realise it at the time but ithadbeen a key, that camera. My friendship with Tom changed my life. He was what mattered, not the bloody camera, and I guess that’s why I’ve carried it ever since. It’s also why I’ve bought a total money pit of a house in London that’s going to be the place other kids like me might be able to find their own keys. A refuge for the kids who aren’t lucky enough to find a camera. Or someone like Tom.’
He’d never talked to anyone like this. Ever. He’d opened the door to a very private space and now that he had, the words continued to tumble out.
‘I want them to feel what it’s like to have the sense of a family around you. People who genuinely care. A place where they can feel safe.’ He had to snatch a quick breath. ‘I want to show them a glimpse of a future that could becometheirdream. I was going to be the guy who walked around with a weird old camera over his shoulder so they could see that I was living proof that it could happen.’
