‘Hello. Is this the right place for the camera lesson?’ asks a tall, willowy lady with long brunette hair and a warm open smile.
Every one of my students, as Milo insists I call them, arrives in the next fifteen minutes. Three older ladies stop to chat with Milo on the way in, so I assume they are Sophie’s friends. There are three women I recognise from shops on Main Street and two other women and a man who I have never met. At a guess, no one is younger than mid-forties. As they come in and find a seat, Milo brings in lamingtons and huge chocolate cookies. The surprise treats are a great icebreaker and there’s soon a lovely buzz around the room as people begin to settle and talk.
I clear my throat to get everyone’s attention. ‘Welcome, everyone. It’s lovely to see you and I’m really looking forward to this evening.’
It breaks the ice, and we have some classroom chat, talking through the evening’s objectives, and I point out examples from the photos on the walls of the café. I’m relieved I thought to put the handout together, as it’s a crutch to lean on as I talk. I soon forget how sick I felt at the beginning, as the group islovely. They’re invested in the evening and interact with me and each other. We come up with a variety of images we’re going to explore and then set off for a wander along the beach. It’s an hour and a half before sunset, so the light will be soft and golden – perfect for photo taking.
The longer we wander, the more the nine individuals morph into a group of friends. Two hours and hundreds of photos later, we arrive back at The Beach House. The smell coming from the barbecue is mouthwatering. I’ve kept Milo updated with our progress, and it smells like he’s timed it just right. He’s also been busy since we’ve been away. He’s hung up a couple of strings of fairy lights across the front of the building and a set looped across the front of the van. The tables have been rearranged to circle a cast-iron fire pit nestled in the sand, surrounded by various shapes and sizes of rocks, making it look like it belongs there. The flames dance red and orange as the driftwood inside the pit burns.
‘Food and drinks this way.’ Jackson’s voice stops me in my tracks. No one else notices my hesitation and they bypass me, walking up to the lit VW van.
Jackson is behind the counter, taking drink orders, while Milo is dishing out barbecue food piled high on plates. They’re a great team and it’s not long before everyone is back sitting on the benches around the fire pit. The chat is reminiscent of past busy summer days at the café and I’m a tumbled mix of happy and sad. I take my phone out and begin taking my own pictures. People’s faces glow orange from the firelight and the lit camper van in the background makes for an atmospheric, Instagram-worthy picture.
I can feel Jackson watching me from the van. He hasn’t come to me and my feet are still rooted to the spot. How the hell does he think it’s OK to suddenly turn up? Are we expected to carry on as if nothing happened? He’s mad.
‘Ellie, do you want some?’ calls Milo.
I steel myself to walk over. ‘Yes. Coming.’ I try not to look into the van, but it’s impossible. My gaze is drawn to his. A magnetic pull that’s almost unbearable. His eyes are dark and serious and follow me as I walk to the barbecue. I don’t know how I’m going to eat because I’m a ball of knots.
I take the plate from Milo, but he doesn’t let go. ‘Are you OK with this?’ His voice is low and anxious.
‘Mmm.’ My feelings are a mess.
‘I can tell him to go,’ he says, the plate still clasped between us.
‘No. I’m good.’ I’m not sure I am, but I don’t need a scene and part of me doesn’t want to see Jackson leave. I pull the plate free. ‘Thanks though. It means a lot, you looking out for me.’
‘Milkshake?’ says Jackson, now I’m standing right in front of him. He’s taller than me to start with, but now he’s behind the van counter, he towers over me and it’s awkward.
‘Thanks.’
He picks up one he’s already made. ‘Is it OK I came? I’ve been an idiot.’
I stop studying the menu to my left and look up. His eyes are wary and his face pinched and pale and he looks like he hasn’t shaved for a couple of days.
‘Yes,’ I say, taking the glass from him. Our fingers brush and the shock travels all the way up my arm. ‘I can’t talk now. After they’ve gone?’ I wave my hand towards the group of people chatting and laughing around the fire pit.
‘That’d be good,’ he says so softly I have to strain to hear him.
I sit back down with the group, forcing myself to focus as they chat and pass around cameras and phones, showing off the photos they’ve taken. The talk drifts between shutter speeds and lighting and easy laughter ripples through the circle of people. Some of the shots are genuinely brilliant, and we barely gotthrough half of the activities on my handout. There’s a buzz to the group, from a mixture of learning something new and relaxing with like-minded people. Everyone seems to agree it’s been a great evening, and they’re already asking when the next one is.
A wave of relief floods through me, strong enough that my fork rattles against my plate. I grip it tighter to still it and glance towards the VW. Jackson hasn’t moved. His eyes are dark and intense and are staring straight at me. Something in my chest twists and I look away before I forget how to breathe.
By the time everyone leaves, I’m exhausted. I hadn’t realised how much it has taken out of me. I lower myself onto the nearest bench, my back leaning against the tabletop, and cradle my now empty glass.
‘I think you’d call that a success,’ says Milo. He’s swinging the van key between his finger and thumb.
His words pull a smile onto my face. ‘I think it was. Thanks for everything. The food was a hit. Are you sure I can’t pay you?’ The food and drink had been paid for via my deposits, but Milo wouldn’t let me take a penny for his time or the hire of the van.
‘Absolutely not. It was a pleasure. Let me know when the next one is.’
‘What makes you think there will be one?’
His smile twinkles in the firelight. ‘Because it and you were awesome.’ He pauses. ‘I’m packed up, so I’ll head.’ He looks over to where Jackson is hovering, faffing about with the barbecue. ‘Will you be OK? I can make him come with me if you want?’
‘No. We need to talk.’ I get up and wrap my arms around Milo’s neck, squeezing him tight. He responds by linking his arms in the small of my back. ‘Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have done this without you,’ I say, my cheek resting on his shoulder.
We step apart. ‘Yes, you could. But it’s a pleasure. It’s beenlovely seeing you again and I know Mum feels the same way. Thank you for that. And if he’s an idiot, call me. I’ll come and save you.’
