As they FaceTime tonight, Charlie can see flat grey sky behind his father, and a section of graffitied wall. He’s up on the roof of his building, probably having a smoke. Frank lives in an apartment in a converted garment factory in Brooklyn with his girlfriend, Patty. They’ve been together for two or three years but Charlie has never met her, apartfrom to say hello on screen. He hasn’t seen his dad in years either, at least not in real life. He’s never been out to New York to see him. He’s asked him, and Charlie would love to see it – but not with him. He’s fully aware of what his dad’s like. He remembers what happened in Mexico. How he’d made out that Charlie’s mum had over-reacted that day on the beach, when every single person they’d met had warned them not to swim there.
Still, he’s his father, and his mum has always said they should keep a connection going. ‘But why?’ Charlie has asked her more than once.
‘Because he’s your dad. And you might regret it if you don’t.’
‘Why might I regret it?’
‘Well, there might be a time when you really wish you could talk to him—’
‘But he’s not interested in me.’
‘He is, Charlie,’ she insisted. ‘You’re his son. He loves you. He just doesn’t know how to show it.’ So they still FaceTime now and again, and it goes like this: his dad talks about all the great stuff he’s doing, not just photography now but film; he’s always shooting something and talking to ‘people’ about ‘projects’. What a wanker, Charlie can’t help thinking when he’s in full flow.
Sometimes, when his dad’s ranting on, he tunes out and amuses himself by imagining Frank being a contestant on a TV quiz show, specialist subject ‘Your Son’. It would go like this:
Quizmaster:Okay, we’ll start with an easy one. Which subjects is Charlie doing for A level?
Dad:Um, English? Art? How many do they do?
QM:Three generally but never mind. What does he hope to study at university?
Dad:Uhhh … I’ll have to pass on that one …
QM:And what would he like to pursue as a career?
Dad:How would I know? He never tells me anything …
Now Frank is complaining that everything’s become ‘too easy’ these days, whatever that means. As far as Charlie’s concerned, life isn’t easy at all. There are all kinds of things he’d like to talk to his mum about; he just isn’t sure how. ‘Like these influencers,’ his dad is ranting on, ‘given tons of free stuff and holidays all over the world. A few shots with their phones and that’s that. Quids in!’
‘Don’t you think that’s a good thing?’ Charlie asks.
Frank blinks in surprise. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘That photography’s become so accessible,’ he ventures. ‘People can try it for fun and express themselves that way without having to buy loads of equipment. It’s kind of …’ Charlie searches for the right word ‘… democratic.’
‘Oh, is that what you call it?’ his dad asks dryly. Of course Frank doesn’t think that’s a good thing. He thinks he’s not getting work because influencers are ‘stealing’ all the jobs – when he’s actually an unreliable drunk.
‘Anyway, how’s your mum?’ he asks as an afterthought.
‘She’s fine.’
‘That’s good.’ Charlie doesn’t mention that she’s been seeing James for months and she seems so happy; happier than he’s ever seen her. He wouldn’t be interested anyway. He probablywouldlike to hear about Esther, with her being pretty famous, and it would give him an excuse to start banging on about influencers again. But Charlie doesn’t mention her either.
He doesn’t tell him that he and Esther have started hanging out whenever she comes here with her dad, or sometimes on her own, when his mum’s doing a new set of pictures of her. He doesn’t share with his father that she’s not at all what he’d imagined, before he met her. Or even when he first met her, when she’d showed upwith her boyfriend for that awful lunch. His first impressions were all wrong, Charlie realises now. Esther is actually a very sweet person.
One time, when she was over, Remy and Freya came round.Thatwas a surprise. Charlie hadn’t seen or heard from Remy in weeks. He’d almost given up on him. In fact, as Charlie had been feeling a bit weird about Remy – kind of abandoned by him – it was a good thing that Esther had been there too. And Freya of course. It had been more relaxed that way, and they’d all had a few drinks and a laugh as if everything was normal. But next morning Esther had curled up on the sofa next to Charlie and said, ‘So, were you and Remy really close?’
Were, she’d said. She’d picked up that things weren’t the same anymore. How perceptive, Charlie thought.
‘Yeah, we used to hang out a lot,’ he said quickly. He was aware of Esther looking at him, almost reading his thoughts. She’s so smart, he thought then. He can’t understand why she’s with that idiot Miles.
‘And now he’s seeing Freya,’ she added lightly.
‘Yeah. I’m really happy for him. She’s good for him. They’re good together.’ A little silence fell, which didn’t feel awkward at all. But Charlie was aware of her gaze, the way it burrowed into his brain and read all those scrappy little thoughts he’d been trying to keep stashed away.
His mum and James had gone out for a walk with Kim and Lorenzo, so it was just the two of them in the house. Esther squeezed his hand. ‘Look, the sun’s just come out. Don’t s’pose you’d do some pictures for me, would you?’
‘What, ofyou?’ His mum had already done some yesterday.
