I take a moment to consider. ‘In my day job, it’s all about making the product look its best.’ At Zoe and Aidan’s wedding, I wasn’t even considering if I might like the pictures. But looking at the photos on Rory’s iPad that are nothing to do with me, it’s different. ‘Capturing the prettiness and creating lovely pictures is a whole side I’ve overlooked.’ I’m surprised that a shiver zings up and down my spine when I think about that.
Rory smiles. ‘If you concentrate on the pretty bits, who knows, you might even start to enjoy it? You are a girl, after all.’
‘Highly unlikely,’ I say, with the most conviction I’ve felt all day.
His face crumples. ‘Me going on about pretty stuff. I can’t even believe I said that, either.’ He gives a groan. ‘Anyway, are you and the twelve-foot sofas still in the penthouse, then?’
I’m surprised he’s flicked back to that. ‘Iwish.’ Although, as I say it, I know that’s not true. I’d hate to be there on my own. ‘Actually, I live in a room the size of a cupboard in a not very nice flat.’ It was the obvious way forward – or in my case back. Luc was fully committed to the American dream and we both knew I couldn’t stay in his apartment. He was moving on and I went back to the old room I’d always kept. Realistically flats like Luc’s are out of my stratosphere. I probably wouldn’t even earn enough to cover the service charges.
Rory laughs. ‘A London cupboard sounds well upmarket. I share some barns with some brewing tanks and an owl or two.’ Lucky for everyone local he hasn’t ended up on an estate. House prices would take a serious dive if this wild boy landed in any respectable neighbourhood.
Despite myself, I’m grinning. ‘Weddings might be the only chance we’ll ever get of flopping on a decent sofa, then.’
He stares at me. ‘What, are you crazy? There won’t be any time for sitting down.’ He laughs again. ‘Not for you, anyway. In fact, you’d better get to work now, or we won’t get lunch till tea time. Go and check out your viewfinder angles and leave me to enjoy my comfy seat.’
There’s no point telling him I’ve no intention of staying out for lunch. It’s only when I come to stand up, I feel a weight and find that Gracie’s crawled onto my knee. As I ease her gently down next to me, I see a chest on wheels over in the corner. ‘Come on Mrs, I think there might be a toy box.’
She stretches her hand towards Rory’s tablet. ‘I like the iPad best.’
Rory’s too fast for her. ‘Mitts off, mongrel, this one’s mine.’
I’m staring at them, shaking my head. ‘Either of you two heard of sharing?’ If it wasn’t so sad it would be funny. ‘You could play ten green bottles together? Or watchThe Little Mermaid?’
‘Or not.’ Rory’s pout is almost as big as Gracie’s. ‘That could cause more trouble than cucumber sticks.’
Gracie’s joining in. ‘Actually, I only likeFrozen.’
With a sigh, I peer into the toy box, pull out some brightly coloured skittles and push them towards them. ‘Try these. They’re a pub game.’ That should tempt Rory, if nothing else does.
‘Actually we might come and make ourselves useful instead. Model for you, open doors, that kind of thing.’ He pushes himself to standing and hitches up his jeans.
‘Congratulations, Rory, that’s a first. You used a pronoun that included Gracie there.’ Progress like that can’t go without a mention.
He ignores the praise and springs towards the staircase. ‘Grab your camera, see if you can get me coming down.’
What follows is the exact negative of Jules in action. Because in our case – read nothing into the inclusive pronoun this time around, obviously – the photographer is totally getting ordered around by the subject. ‘Try one against the balcony rail … leaning on the door frame … upside down, legs over the back of the sofa …’Yes, really.Portrait, distance, close up. Jacket on, jacket off. Drenched by the rain, towelled dry. Back against the wall, knee up … next to Gracie … looking out to sea … looking in through the window from outside … light playing on stubble … shadows sculpting the hollows under cheekbones …
The next hour is a whirl. Back lit, front lit. Blurring the background, blurring the foreground. In the end, I’m the one who gives in first and collapses back onto the sofa. As I begin to flick through what I’ve taken, I’m surprised. ‘Hmmmm, some of them aren’t too bad.’
Rory nods. ‘You’ve relaxed, you’re familiar with the venue now, I reckon you’re as prepared as you can be.’ He’s looking particularly pleased with himself as he rubs his hands. ‘Anyone hungry?’
That’s my cue to jump in. I’m about to say my bit, then I think about a two-hour drive home with ravenous kids and a hungry driver, and do a fast U-turn. ‘So before we go for lunch, we need to agree some ground rules.’ I’ve got this. And I’m right on it, because I can just imagine where we’ll end up if I leave it to Rory. ‘Ideally it’ll have high chairs as well as bar stools. And a kids’ menu.’ I’m not asking for miracles. I know if he went within a country mile of a place with a play area the beer-mobile might spontaneously decompose.
‘Whatever you say, Holly Berry.’ He dives into the nappy bag and whips out a packet. ‘But before we go, it’s your turn for the baby wipes.’
‘Nice try. I don’t think so.’ Then I think again. ‘Teddie needs changing again already?’
He pulls a face as he hesitates. ‘No, but you might like to check out the – ahem – toothpaste situation.’
I squint at him. ‘The what?’
‘When you said about icing before, I couldn’t see it. But since you came in from the rain on the balcony, I’m getting the full drip cake thing.’
‘How thehelldoyouknow about drip cakes, Rory?’ I have to ask.
He looks sheepish. ‘They’re very popular lately. I told you, I go toa lotof weddings.’ His face crinkles. ‘Although this is the first strawberry base with white drips I’ve seen.’ He’s holding up his phone like he’s taking my picture.
‘Still not getting you?’
