A Summer of Secrets

by Lorna Peel

  Sophia had been staring at him, marvelling at how a couple of open shirt buttons and slightly ruffled hair could make a complete difference. He stared back at her sheepishly.

  “Yes…”

  “You’d better do it now before he runs for it.”

  Sophia went back behind the camera. “I’ll take two full-length pictures and two head and shoulders,” she told him. “Is that all right?”

  “You’d better ask my agent,” he replied and she laughed.

  “Try and stand casually, Thomas,” Stephanie urged. “Put your hands in your pockets or something.”

  “I feel like a complete idiot.”

  “Well, try not to. And stop glaring at me, just look at the camera.”

  Sophia saw him swallow his irritation and turn to her.

  “That’s fine, like that, good.” She took the photographs and wound the film back.

  “Do you develop them yourself?” he asked.

  “I used to. Well, we had to on the course, but I don’t have the equipment or a dark room. I’ll bring the film into town tomorrow.”

  He nodded and picked his tie up from the floor, where Stephanie had dropped it. “Well, thank you, it was…interesting.”

  “Bloody hell, Thomas, she wasn’t pulling all your teeth out with no anaesthetic.”

  He just gave Stephanie a glare and went out.

  Sophia began to dismantle the lights while Stephanie walked around the flat.

  “I must grovel to him now so that he lets me move in here. So, um, where did you learn photography?”

  “London. I did a course. I needed the practice, I hadn’t taken a proper photograph in months.”

  “I always leave the lens cap on.”

  “A lot of it is just practice.” Sophia brought the lights to the door then went back to the camera and took it off the tripod. “You learn from your mistakes.”

  “Hmm, one being don’t tease your brother when you have to grovel to him soon after,” she said and Sophia smiled. “You do know he fancies you?” Stephanie added casually, and Sophia almost dropped the camera.

  “What?”

  “I was watching the two of you for a couple of minutes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at someone the way he looks at you.” Blood flooded into Sophia’s face. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you, but I know you fancy him, too. I could have powered a small industrial town with all the electricity surging between the two of you.”

  Sophia put the camera down on the floor before she did damage it.

  “Why hasn’t he asked you out?” Stephanie asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, why haven’t you asked him out instead?”

  She sighed. “Because he’s my employer. I’ve always had a rule that I never get involved with my boss.”

  Stephanie frowned. “But I thought Mother interviewed you?”

  “Your brother pays my salary. Anyway, I don’t think my dad would approve.”

  “Of Thomas?” Stephanie’s eyebrows shot up.

  “My dad is very set in his ways; he was a miner, he supports Socialist Labour…”

  “Sophia, this is the twenty-first century. Women don’t have to do what their fathers tell them to do these days.”

  “I know, but even so, it’s too awkward. I’d better hand in my notice.”

  “Let me speak to Thomas?” Stephanie urged.

  Her jaw dropped. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just don’t. Please?”

  “Only if you promise not to leave?” Stephanie begged. “I’d go stark staring mad here if I didn’t have you to talk to. And, to be honest, I think Thomas would, too. He keeps mentioning you, even though he doesn’t realise he’s doing it.”

  “But if it’s so obvious, it’s going to be so awkward.”

  “Please?” Stephanie asked quietly.

  Sophia closed her eyes. “All right.”

  “Thank you. Think you could put up with me as a neighbour?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  An hour later, she crossed to the window of her own flat. Heaton was in his office, his head resting on a fist and wearily listening to Stephanie, who was talking animatedly, her arms flying about all over the place. He hadn’t taken his glasses off, clearly hoping his sister wouldn’t stay too long. Sophia watched as they slid down his nose and he pushed them back up impatiently. Suddenly he pulled them off, got up, left the office and headed in the direction of her door. She heard a knock and went downstairs.

  “Could I speak to you for a moment, please?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course. Come in.”

  He followed her upstairs and into the flat. “Stephanie has asked me whether she can move into the flat next door until she sorts herself out. I was just wondering whether you’d have any objection to having her as a neighbour?”

  “No, none.”

  “You don’t have to be polite.”

  She laughed. “I’m not.”

  “You really don’t mind?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Good.” He both looked and sounded relieved. “Thank you. Look, I’m sorry about earlier, it was quite embarrassing for me and I’m sure it was for you as well.”

  “A nice photograph will be a lovely present for Lady Heaton.”

  “It will stop Stephanie from asking any awkward questions, anyway. Well, I’d better give her the good news. And if she’s noisy, please tell her.”

  “I will.”

  Stephanie spent most of the following day moving in before coming to the kitchen after the final coach party had gone, flopping down in a chair, and accepting a cup of coffee.

  “Those stairs. Still, it’ll be worth it. When will the photographs be ready?”

  “In a week,” Sophia told her.

  “A week?”

  Sophia sighed. There was something else missing from the drawing room. A small box containing three silver spoons. She would have to speak to Heaton again. Had he even done anything about the figurine? Oh, God, what if he and Lady Heaton were selling them to raise cash and were too ashamed to tell her? Could that be it?

  “Sophia?”

  She turned back to Stephanie. “Sorry. Black and white photographs are rare these days, not everyone can develop them.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “His Lordship is in the library.” Helen stood at the door. “He’s wondering if you could join him.” Stephanie went to get up. “His Lordship meant Sophia, Stephanie.”

  Stephanie’s eyes widened for a moment before she gave her a knowing wink.

  Nervously, Sophia went to the library and knocked.

  “Come in.” Heaton was at the desk. “I’ve dug out some drawings for you to look at. If you’ve time?”

  “Yes.” She closed the door and went to him.

  “The only two subjects I liked at school were History and Art.”

  “Where did you go to school?” she asked.

  He grimaced. “Eton.”

  “It wasn’t that bad, surely?”

  “It had its moments, I suppose. Where did you go to school? I know you told me but…”

  “St Margaret’s Grammar School in town,” she told him. “It had its moments, too.”

  He smiled. “When I was bored in class, I would draw caricatures of the teachers.”

  “So, you prefer to draw people?”

  He pursed his lips then shrugged. “Not really. I do buildings, too, but not landscapes, I’d need to be able to paint decently for that. Now, guess who this is?”

  He passed her a sheet of paper then watched her face. She roared with laughter. It was Stephanie – a manic Stephanie.

  “Oh, my God, it’s her. It’s perfect.”

  He laughed. “She doesn’t know about it, so don’t tell her.”

  “I promise.”

  He pulled out another of Lady Heaton wearing her glasses on a chain, the glasses having slipped halfway down her nose. She was peering intently at something.


  “Oh, please don’t make me laugh at Lady Heaton,” she begged.

  “She’s attempting The Times crossword and not getting very far. Why she doesn’t try the simpler one, I don’t know.” He extracted another and she stared at a man of about sixty, wearing what looked like tweed, and a rather bemused expression. “My father. I always remember him as looking like he wasn’t quite with us. Like an absent-minded professor, or something.”

  “Have you ever attempted a self-portrait?” she asked.

  He looked horrified. “Good God, no,” he exclaimed. “Do you think I should?”

  She nodded. “And then put it up in your office as a subtle way of telling people that you’re not scary and that you do have a sense of humour.”

  “You think I’m scary?”

  She flushed. “I don’t, no, but…”

  “You want me to take the ‘you know what’ out of myself?”

  “Definitely.”

  He laughed. “I’ll have a go, then.”

  “You’d better not have one of me… You do, don’t you?”

  “Well…I…yes, I do.” He pulled the drawing out and handed it to her. “I tried to imagine your expression when you were asked where the monkeys slept.”

  She was wearing an expression of astonishment, hilarity, and pity. She was holding a hand to her forehead with her lips slightly parted in consternation. She had to admit, it was her to a tee.

  “I’ve offended you, haven’t I?” he asked quietly.

  “No,” she replied. “It’s me. But I want to see the one of you.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “You’re very good.”

  He pulled an embarrassed expression and returned the drawings to a drawer. “It’s just a hobby.”

  “And that was a compliment.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t get complimented very often. Thank you. Did Stephanie mention the photographic exhibition to you?”

  “No?”

  “Oh. Well, it’s on in Leeds. It’s a collection of turn of the last century photographs of the county. She mentioned that the three of us could go?”

  She watched him nervously run his fingers along the edge of the desk.

  “I’d love to go, but it would have to be Tuesday.”

  “Yes, of course. Would it interfere with anything?” he asked. “You visiting your father, I mean?”

  “No. I’ll visit him the evening before.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s very well, considering. Thank you.”

  “Good.” He smiled. “Oh, a Vincent Graves is coming tomorrow to interview me, take some photographs, and to look around. He’ll probably want to go on the tour.” She nodded. “You know him?”

  “A little. Don’t worry, he’s okay.”

  “I asked Stephanie for some tips. She said for me to just be myself.” He rolled his eyes.

  “She’s right. It’ll be worse if you put on an act.”

  “I suppose so,” he mused. “But I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

  “I think you should know that something else has gone missing from the drawing room,” she told him. “A small box containing some silver spoons.”

  “My grandmother collected spoons. No member of the public is allowed inside the house unless on a tour and then there’s the burglar alarm. I set it myself every evening.”

  “Who knows the code?” she asked.

  “Myself and Des.” He sighed. “I’m not even going to suspect Des. Or Helen. They’ve been here since my father’s final days, through the very worst of things. Someone must be getting into the house during the day.”

  “But I close the front door after admitting each group. Sometimes the tour leader doesn’t go on the tour but they go straight to the kitchen and Helen’s there with them all the time.”

  “Well, someone is getting in,” he said.

  “Who has a key to the side door?”

  “Myself, Lady Heaton, Des, Helen, you. And now Stephanie.” He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. “No. She couldn’t be so stupid…I don’t suppose you have a video camera?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “I think Des has. I’ll ask if we can borrow it. It’ll have to be next week, though.”

  Next week? She frowned and he smiled wryly.

  “I do allow them the occasional holiday.”

  She flushed. “Sorry.”

  “We’ll both keep an eye on things, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  She sighed as she returned to the flat. It wasn’t his sister, it was Lady Heaton. How could she tell him? She sighed again. She could only hope that Lady Heaton was caught in the act on camera, though what the repercussions would be, she had no idea.

  Someone knocked on the flat door that evening and Sophia quickly closed the lid of her laptop before going downstairs to answer it. She had been going through her photographs for more pictures of Danielle and Michelle to attach to an email to Heaton.

  “I’ve got a bottle of whisky on the go.” Stephanie smiled. “Flat-warming of sorts. Thomas is choosing a CD so it could well be Wagner. You have been warned.”

  Sophia followed her next door. Thankfully, an Annie Lennox CD was playing and Heaton was pouring whisky into three tumblers.

  “No ice, sorry,” he told her. “Would you like water in it?”

  “No, thanks, it’s fine as it is.” She took one.

  Stephanie picked up the second glass and Thomas the third. “What shall we drink to?” she asked. “I know. New beginnings. Well, for me, anyway.”

  “New beginnings.” The three of them touched glasses and drank.

  “So we’re all set for next Tuesday, then?” Stephanie added. “God, I so need to get out somewhere. Even if it is to a photographic thing.”

  “It’ll be interesting, the exhibitions there always are,” Heaton said.

  “So interesting you ended up across the road at the dirty photographs exhibition the last time.”

  Heaton flushed with annoyance and gulped the whisky.

  “I went to it with a friend,” she told Stephanie. “It was a bit too strong for her. But I thought it was interesting.” She pulled a comical expression and Stephanie laughed.

  “But not art?”

  Sophia shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “Thomas?” Stephanie called. “Are dirty photographs art?”

  “I suppose it depends on what context you look at them in. If you looked at them on the internet, for example, they could be considered pornography. But in the context of an exhibition, I think they can be considered art.”

  “Bloody hell. A yes or no would have done, you know?”

  “A yes or no wouldn’t have been enough,” he snapped.

  “So-rry. Here, have some more whisky and chill out a bit.” Stephanie picked up the bottle and sloshed more whisky into his glass. “It’s not single malt but hey. Sophia?”

  “Thank you.” She held her glass out and Stephanie added more whisky.

  “Oh, I love this song.” Stephanie turned the stereo system up and began to dance around the room, the bottle in one hand and her glass in the other.

  “I think she’s had a head start on the whisky,” Heaton murmured and retrieved the bottle from her. “You don’t have to stay, you know?”

  Sophia smiled. “I know, but it’s interesting.”

  Heaton shrugged comically. “You don’t have to be polite.”

  “I’m not. If you want to go, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Stephanie suddenly demanded. “Come and dance.”

  “I think we’ll just watch,” Heaton replied. “Thanks all the same.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “So you keep telling me.”

  “But you don’t take any notice.” Stephanie sank down into an armchair. “Have you ever been drunk? I bet Sophia has.”

  Sophia spluttered and began to laugh. “Thanks a lot. I have, but n
ot for a while.”

  “So, Thomas?”

  Heaton pulled a face. “Yes,” he replied shortly.

  “When? In a previous life?”

  “Stephanie,” he warned and her hands flew up in a mock defensive gesture.

  “I’m just asking when?”

  “At university,” he told her.

  “That’s twenty years ago.”

  “I can bloody count.” He gulped his whisky down and poured himself another.

  “That’s the spirit.” Stephanie laughed then laughed again at her pun. “Pour Sophia some more, too.”

  “Just a little,” she said, holding her glass out and watching as he poured. “Thank you. So you like the flat, Stephanie?”

  “I love the flat. All hail darling brother for allowing me to move in.”

  Sophia left as early as she could without being rude. She went back to her laptop, attached a photograph to the finished email, and clicked on send.

  Dear Lord Heaton

  Please find attached a photograph of Danielle, Michelle, my mother and myself taken on the day Michelle and I started school. I’m afraid this is the last photograph I have of Danielle on my laptop. I have an album with Michelle’s wedding photographs but I don’t have a scanner, unfortunately.

  Regards

  Sophia Nelson

  She went to the fridge starting to feel quite light-headed thanks to the three enormous whiskies. About to open the door, she heard the jingle on her laptop announcing the arrival of an email. It was from Heaton. She went to the window and saw him at the desk in his office leaning on a fist at the PC.

  Dear Ms Nelson

  Thank you for sending me the photograph. Stephanie has now retired to bed so I hope she doesn’t snore. If she does, just bang on the wall. :) I have to apologise for our behaviour this evening, we behaved like school children. I’m sure the last thing you wanted to hear was Steph telling me how boring I am. I know I am, I just don’t particularly like hearing it. I just hope it won’t put you off going to the exhibition with us on Tuesday. We’ll try to behave. :)

  Regards

  Thomas Heaton

  She clicked on ‘Reply’.

  Dear Lord Heaton

  There is no need to apologise, you’re not boring, and I am looking forward to Tuesday, believe it or not. I must be a glutton for punishment. :)