Orla turned to face him. ‘You’d do that for me?’
‘Sure, it’ll be fun.’ He waited for her response. ‘So are we on?’
‘I suppose we could give it a go.’
After a brisk walk on the heath, they returned to the castle and Orla went to get her camera. Luke, who was suddenly feeling a little self-conscious, went to brush his hair and change his shirt. Why on earth had he volunteered to do this, he wondered? Well, it was to help a friend and put her at ease. Kind of ironic that it was him who now needed to be put at ease.
They met up in the great hall a few minutes later and he saw Orla was wearing her camera around her neck.
‘No putting these up online,’ he joked.
‘I wouldn’t!’ she said.
‘Yeah, I’m not as pretty as your china cups.’
She cast him a sympathetic look. ‘Nonsense! But you might look a bit out of place on my Galleria feed amongst all the crockery and flowers.’
‘Okay, how do you want me?’
‘How about leaning against the wall by the window?’
Luke moved towards the wall. ‘Here?’
Orla nodded, her camera in front of her face as she took the first photo. Luke stood perfectly still, scared to do something that might displease her.
‘You can move,’ she said. ‘Just be natural.’
‘I can’t be natural – I’ve got a camera pointing in my face.’
Orla shook her head. ‘I thought this was your way to encourage me to relax.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He rolled his head from side to side and tried again. ‘How about this?’ He fixed a smile on his face. Orla lowered her camera and cocked her head to one side. ‘Too much of a rictus grin?’
‘Little bit! Just try to relax.’
Luke nodded.
‘You don’t need to smile at all. It’s probably best if you don’t.’
‘Have I got a bad smile?’
‘No! I didn’t mean that. You’ve got a lovely smile, but it’s easier, more natural, if you relax your face. Look out of the window or find something in the room to look at.’
Luke did what he was told, fixing his gaze on a spot in the garden far below the castle window and, after a little while, he almost forgot that he was being photographed.
‘That’s it,’ Orla told him. ‘Just hold that for a little longer. And – yes! I think that might do for a first round.’
‘Can I look?’
Orla unhooked the camera strap from her neck and Luke looked at the images on the screen, his eyes narrowing as he took them in.
‘Wow! Do I really look like that?’
‘Of course you do. What did you think you looked like?’
‘I don’t know. Not that serious, I guess.’
‘Did Helen never photograph you?’
‘Not like this. I was usually grinning like an idiot on days out.’
‘She never took portraits of you?’
‘She was more into her trees and landscapes, you know? And I’ve never been a fan of the official portrait.’
‘How did it feel?’ she asked him.
‘Shouldn’t the question be how did it feel for you?’
Orla chewed her bottom lip. ‘I think I liked it.’
‘You sounded as if you did.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes. You sounded happy. Slightly bossy.’
‘I was not!’
Luke laughed at her obvious discomfort. ‘I mean, you’re a good director. You put me at my ease.’
‘And you put me at mine.’
‘So – mission accomplished?’ he dared to ask.
‘You mean I should take this assignment at the village show?’
He shrugged, trying not to make too big a deal out of it. ‘Up to you.’
Orla looked down at her camera, scrolling through the photos she’d just taken.
‘I suppose I could give it a go.’
‘Yeah?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’ Her face lit up and her eyes looked almost mischievous but, as quickly as that look of joy came, it vanished, as a dark cloud of fear and insecurity crossed her face. She looked so totally childlike that it made Luke feel instantly protective of her.
‘Orla? What’s the matter?’
She looked up at him, her face pale and anxious. ‘What if I’m making a terrible mistake?’
Chapter 16
The village hall was packed. It looked as if the whole of Lorford was crammed in there, and how splendid it looked. Long tables had been laid with white tablecloths, where vases burst with floral displays and pretty plates proudly showed home-made biscuits, brownies and other scrumptious delights. Orla took a few photographs, marvelling at a particularly shiny chocolate cake and a sumptuous Victoria sponge which seemed to defy gravity.
The children had their own section, which was full of creative fun, and there were plenty of the makers running around the hall. Orla had done her best to capture them. There was one very sweet girl wearing a pink tutu, but she just wouldn’t keep still. Orla smiled, acknowledging the fact that, when photographing, things were always much easier than people. You could never guarantee that a person would do what you wanted them to do, whereas a jug or a bowl or a cup would stay put and wouldn’t frown or go off in a strop or ruin your picture by not cooperating.
Other than her practice session with Luke, Orla hadn’t photographed a person since before her acid attack and the thought of doing so now terrified her, but she needn’t have worried about drawing attention to herself; everybody seemed preoccupied with doing their own thing. Everybody except Mildred Smy, whom Orla had been introduced to by Bill just before the village hall opened its doors to the public. She was heading towards Orla now. A handsome woman in her late sixties, she was wearing a smart dress in a particularly hideous shade of green and her platinum hair was swept up in a severe chignon.
‘Ah, Miss Kendrick! Is there anything I can get you? A cup of tea, perhaps? A slice of cake?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘Well, you’re doing a sterling job. Sterling!’ She gave a tight, uneasy smile and then bustled off into the room again.
Orla took a deep breath. She could do this, she told herself. These were good people – they weren’t a threat to her. They were her neighbours. But then a man walked up the steps onto the stage and called for everyone’s attention.
‘We’re about to announce the prizes!’ he called out. ‘Please help me in gathering everybody inside.’
Orla turned to see a few people leaving the village hall and realised that the room hadn’t been full to capacity, as it had seemed to her. But it was about to get very full indeed as a surge of people filed in from the tables of bric-a-brac and the entertainments outside. The noise level rose steadily and the warm day seemed even warmer now. Orla looked around the room in panic. The door seemed a very long way away, but she knew she had to get through it.
‘Orla?’
She heard Luke calling from somewhere behind her as she fled. She didn’t stop, pushing her way through the throng until she was out of the village hall, and into the relative peace and space of the road beyond.