My camera was always good to go. I picked up the case and almost fell over my own feet in a rush to get outside and head towards the water.
Gully was nowhere to be seen, which didn’t really register. I stuck my feet into a pair of trainers and headed out through the bifold doors into the garden and down it to the decking which formed the house’s private jetty.
If anyone noticed what I was doing, they’d question my sanity right now, because I ended up flat on my belly, aiming for a shot that was from a lower perspective, capturing the sky and the sea and that beautiful light before it disappeared.
How much time passed, I didn’t know or care. This was one of my happy places, taking photos that later I could view and mull over. Some would be edited and filtered, turned into something that resembled a painting rather than a photo. Some photos would stay raw.
The light moved, shifting into something else, creating shadows that could’ve been eerie, but here they were just dancing silhouettes.
I had no idea how long Gully had been standing there when I noticed him, awareness settling in that I was no longer alone.
“Hey.” I came out of my daze, considering putting my camera away, but clutching onto it instead. “How long have you been there for?”
His grin was amused, his hands cupping round a mug of what I guessed was coffee. “About ten minutes, but I’ve been watching you for about three quarters of an hour.”
“Stalker tendencies much?” I pressed my hair down self-consciously.
He laughed and shook his head, his eyes dancing.
I readied my camera.
“I was in my study and saw you. Get some good shots?”
I nodded, holding up my camera. “I can get more if you let me.”
He shook his head but didn’t protest.
Gully was photogenic. The camera loved him no matter what angle it was coming from. His face had angles and plains that the light adored, and his eyes had all the emotion of an Oscar-winning movie.
I loved taking photos full stop. This morning would be a forever memory, of the boats and the light and the sea, but my passion was taking photos of people and helping them to tell their story in just one shot.
I was gifted, I knew, at getting people to work with the camera. I put them at ease, managed to get them to relax and then to feel. It was those feelings I wanted on film – and sometimes I did still work with film.
Gully loved the camera as much as it was his biggest fan. It was a mutual appreciation society which made him easy and a pleasure to shoot.
There was something more in his eyes this morning, standing on the jetty. I shifted round so the sea was the backdrop, a weeping willow casting its branches at the water’s edge and started to click the button to take photos of him smiling, then faux frowning, posing like he was a model, which he could possibly have been.
I didn’t instruct him, letting him move how he wanted, sometimes being silly, sometimes serious.
He gave me one last pose, one that would make a good headshot for his author stuff and then looked sadly at his coffee mug.
“What’s left is cold. I think we need to warm up.”
I nodded, putting my camera back in the case, desperate to see the photos I’d taken but knowing that I’d see them better if I left them for a few hours. “Hot chocolate. I really fancy a hot chocolate. Do you have any in?”
He looked smug. “Of course. I stocked up before you got here. Let’s get inside.”
I didn’t realise how cold I was until I was indoors, the scent of coffee filling the air, music piping through speakers I hadn’t noticed yet.
“How long have you been up?” I opened the fridge, finding it full of all sorts of nice things. He was right, he had stocked up.
“Since about seven. I’m writing early at the moment. We weren’t in bed late either.” He started to mess around with the coffee machine.
The talk of bed made me stiffen. We’d never really spoken about the night we’d shared in New Orleans, although the memories of it were still clearer than any other. I’d tried not to replay it too often, knowing that it had probably wrecked me for any other man – in fact, you could take the probably out of that.
It had wrecked me.
But he’d never given any indication that it’d wrecked him in the same way, so we’d both carried on dating and living and making way in our parallel lives.
