Page 41 of Italy and Forever

‘A single frame,’ she repeated, taking the housing gingerly and nursing it like a baby. ‘Pressure’s on.’

‘That’s the biggest difference with a film camera: how you feel about it. How many photos do you have on your phone?’

‘Only about fifty thousand.’

‘Fifty… Only!’

‘Surely you can’t be surprised by that. How many do you have?’

‘On my phone? No idea, but it’s not that many. I have several hard drives of work, but my personal stuff… isn’t much. But you’ve made my point. There are thirty-six negatives in this roll. That’s all.’

‘But you have another roll, right?’

‘I don’t have fifty thousand negatives. That would be over ten thousand pounds’ worth of film, not to mention the costs of developing.’

‘You’re making me really appreciate my phone.’

‘Appreciate the mountains instead – and that you’re here right now to see them.’

The breeze blew a strand of hair onto her cheek as she stared in front of her. ‘You’re right, the way you shoot is different with film. I’m aware I can’t live this moment over again. The single photo will be a poor memory of this place. What do I need to do?’ She peered through the viewfinder.

‘I’ve already set the aperture, which is the part you won’t be able to see, so very gently turn the lens to adjust the focal length. With a landscape shot, you generally want as much in sharp focus as you can get.’

She hunched forward, squinting through the viewfinder and holding the camera like a cheeseburger.

‘Here,’ he muttered.

Taking her left wrist, he moved her hand until it supported the weight of the device from underneath, curling her fingers around the lens. With one hand at her back to hold her still, he positioned the camera so it was propped against her forehead, brushing aside that strand of hair before he thought better of it.

His brain fogged with Ginny this close, with her ideals and penetrating questions – and smooth hair that smelled of vanilla and coconut with something floral on her skin. The three earrings in her left lobe were near enough that he was breathing on them.

‘Is that…? Is it right now?’

He cleared his throat. ‘Yeah, that’s good. This camera doesn’t have image stabilisation, so you need to hold it very still. Imagine your arms and forehead are like a tripod and hold it like that.’

‘Right, okay.’ He wasn’t sure what that tone meant, but she took a deep breath. Perhaps he shouldn’t have made so many jokes about the cost of film. ‘I think I’m ready.’

‘Go on, then.’

The little snick of the shutter was a shock in the silence.

She lowered the camera and took in the view once more. ‘There,’ she said with a shrug. ‘That was the moment.’

‘I’ll give you a copy when I print it.’

She smiled, as widely as he’d seen that day. He wasn’t sure if she was conventionally pretty, although he suspected so, but she was certainly beautiful. Looking at her, he wanted to try out a close-up. He could blur everything except that bottom lip. Perhaps it would be a series, each with one feature in focus.

He’d felt like an amateur with a point-and-shoot at the wedding in the snow, framing the shots and hoping the subject would do the rest. But Ginny… Her portrait would be much more than the lines and shadows of a face. How could he communicate the way she moved, the tone of her voice, in a photo?

The call of a bird dragged his gaze from the curve of her neck and he looked up to see a bird of prey, a bearded vulture, he guessed, sweeping through the warm air rising to dissipate up high. Rhys was glad of the distraction. He’d been a second away from imagining her posing for him, a prospect that made him uncomfortable, reluctantly remembering the folder of photos he’d kept of Annie, even though he couldn’t make sense of her face any more.

Ginny was too bright and too young and he needed to get her out of his head.

‘Up there.’ He gestured at the bird. ‘Take a shot.’

‘But what about the… focal length and all that?’

‘Forget about that for now. Look at him spreading his wings. The settings aren’t ideal, but the moment might be, and that’s what photography is all about.’