“I had an old SLR once,” said Bill. “I wonder what happened to it: I used to love taking photographs.”
“First I’ve heard of it,” said Mitch, raising his eyebrows.
“Hey! I do have one or two secrets, buddy!” replied Bill, raising a bottle of beer in salute. “So, what else do you like taking photographs of, Caroline?”
“You mean other than pictures of fine figures of men like you, Bill?” laughed Shirley.
“Too right!” said Bill, flexing his biceps. “You want to take some photos of me, Caroline? Private photographs? Anytime, honey – but you’ll need a long lens!”
I laughed, trying to seem as if I was enjoying the joke. It was kind of hard when Sebastian looked like was about to punch Bill.
“I do like taking photographs of people,” I said, trying to change the direction of the embarrassing conversation, “but when they’re not aware I’m watching – just candids of people carrying on with their lives. I’m not into landscapes that much: I always admired people like Robert Capa and Cartier-Bresson and…”
“Oh, I love it when you talk French to me, Caroline!” said Bill, winking at me.
This was getting beyond embarrassing.
Ches’s head was swiveling between Bill and Sebastian as if he was watching some sort of tennis match.
I saw Shirley throw Bill a warning look. His only reply was to smirk at her and take another swig of beer.
I wondered if he was deliberately trying to wind up Sebastian. Heaven forbid, but it seemed to be some sort of open secret that Sebastian liked me. It was obvious from the way that everyone’s eyes were drawn to him when I became the subject of conversation that they knew something. Thankfully no one had guessed that his feelings were more than reciprocated.
I wanted to shake him or send him for acting lessons or something that made it less damn obvious how he felt about me.
Not only did it make me anxious, but it made me question how successful my own attempts were to act like I didn’t notice him, or didn’t give a damn. The whole thing was giving me a headache and I longed for the picnic to be over. It really wasn’t living up to its billing of a ‘fun day’.
I began to have quite violent thoughts towards Donna: I wished more than anything that I hadn’t accepted her misplaced kindness and instead gotten here in my own car.
The mountain of food continued to diminish and Donna was just encouraging me to serve up the lemon polenta cake when I became aware that the eyes of every male in our group had swung to a spot just behind my right shoulder.
“Hi, everyone,” said a female voice.
“Hi, Brenda,” said Ches, his tone friendly but cautious.
I saw him glance at Sebastian.
Oh. The ex-girlfriend.
Brenda Wiseman was undeniably lovely: a perfect, willowy figure, super-straight blonde hair that she flicked restlessly over her shoulders, pale blue eyes and the smallest bikini I’d ever seen outside of a men’s magazine. Irritatingly, she certainly had the figure to wear it to its best advantage.
While everyone stared at Brenda, Bill’s eyes about popping out of his head and Donna’s lips pursed in apparent distaste, I saw Sebastian glance nervously towards me. I dropped my eyes to the polenta cake and continued to cut it, gripping the handle of the cake slice tightly. It was bad timing on Brenda’s part that I happened to have a weapon too conveniently at hand.
“Hi, Sebastian,” she said.
“Hi.”
His reply was short and unenthusiastic.
I couldn’t help wondering if that was solely for my benefit.
She hesitated for a moment, as if waiting for an invitation. When none was forthcoming, she sat down next to him anyway, stretching out her long tan legs and leaning back on her hands.
“I haven’t seen you since graduation.”
Sebastian stared at the sand. It was clear he had no clue how to handle this.
It was quite funny – if you weren’t me.
“Where have you been hanging?” she persisted, her voice unnaturally cheery.
I wondered if she’d been rehearsing.