Always, in December by Emily Stone
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was cold enough in the underground vault that Geoffrey had hired for the evening that Josie had kept her jacket on – clearly, they had not thought to ramp up the heating in the run-up to their little exhibition. The place had a cool, edgy atmosphere with mixed lighting, aiming to show the photography off at its best, and tables positioned strategically so that people were encouraged to stand and look at the work, rather than sit and drink.
Josie kept her hands in her pockets, partly from the cold but mainly to control the urge to constantly twist them together, as she watched people mill about, having put her glass of Merlot down already so that she didn’t keep sipping it out of nerves. The students – twenty-one, including Josie – had been encouraged to invite people to this end-of-course ‘Celebration’, as Geoffrey had called it, and those were the people who, she was sure, made up the majority of the crowd, but she knew there were also some people from the industry there. She couldn’t quite believe that it was her work being displayed up on the walls, that people were currently looking at it, cocking their heads curiously or nudging their friends to point something out. Across the room, she caught sight of Geoffrey, who only winked to where she was standing alone like a lemon before heading off to talk to someone else.
The theme was a celebration of Edinburgh. They’d been allowed to pick what they wanted that to encompass – people, buildings, landscapes. Josie had gone for landscapes – she’d known from the outset that it would be tough to do something fresh and original with that, but she was pleased with what she’d accomplished, and felt like she’d grown as a photographer for sure. It had, she would admit, been the most amazing two and a half months; it had been incredible to be allowed to indulge completely in what she loved doing.
She smiled as she saw Bia, who seemed fully delighted by the whole affair, chatting to John and Laura on the other side of the room, underneath a fellow student’s portrait of two women outside a cafe. She felt a little warm and fuzzy inside, seeing her friends here for this, that they’d made the effort to come and not brushed it aside as something silly or insignificant, something she’d just needed to get out her system before she returned to the real world – as much as it felt like that to her, at times. The fact that all her confirmed guests were here didn’t stop her from regularly glancing towards the door, however, her stomach pulsing uncomfortably every time she did so.
Having done a slow lap of the room, Helen, Memo and her grandad came back round to her. Josie smiled as Memo gave her another hug, breathing in her grandmother’s smell of tobacco and cinnamon. Memo squeezed her shoulder with spindly fingers. ‘This is amazing, my love.’
Josie beamed. ‘I’m just so glad you all came.’
Helen scoffed a little. ‘Of course we did, darling. What did you expect?’ She was totally in her element, sipping her warm white wine like it was the most expensive champagne. ‘And it’s turning out to be quite the event, isn’t it?’
Memo stroked Josie’s hair, while her grandad gave her an awkward, one-armed pat – he’d never been one for overt displays of affection, but Josie could tell he was pleased, and he’d asked her a stream of questions about the different photos when they’d first arrived, which told her everything.
‘We’re just so proud of you,’ Memo said. And they’d been so supportive when she’d told them she was going to do the course. Memo had offered to help pay for her accommodation, but Josie had refused – they were both retired and had better things to spend their money on, like bills. So she’d told them to come to the show at the end instead. For money, she’d taken a part-time job as a waitress in the evenings and weekends, which had been reminiscent of her teenage years, and shared a flat with two other girls, who she’d barely seen because she was hardly ever there, and when she was there she was holed up in her room sleeping. She didn’t think she’d ever been this exhausted – or this happy.
Her grandad broke into a hacking cough and Josie frowned at him. ‘Are you ok?’ When he just waved at her, she pressed on. ‘Is it a cold? Have you had your flu jab?’
‘Oh, stop worrying,’ he said affectionately, as the cough subsided. ‘I’m hardier than I look.’ But it was an uncomfortable reminder that they were both getting older – and something cold fluttered around her heart at the thought.
Memo brought her attention back around with a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. ‘Your mum and dad would be proud of you too, my Josie.’
‘I hope that’s true.’
‘Course it is,’ grunted her grandad. ‘They’d think you were brave, going after something you love.’
‘Malcolm would have adored this,’ Helen agreed. ‘He was so proud of you when you rode your first bike – something every child accomplishes, so I can’t imagine how awful he’d be here, showing off to everyone.’ She flashed Josie a wicked smile over the rim of her wine glass.
Josie smiled at them both, even though her heart twisted ever so slightly. It was another moment where she wished they were there, to see what she’d chosen to do, to see the person she’d become.
‘You must come and visit us soon,’ Memo said, searching in her skirt pocket for something. Memo always wore skirts with pockets – it was something Josie had always admired. ‘I know you’re busy this Christmas, but after that.’
‘I will,’ Josie promised, trying to push aside the twinge of guilt. Her grandparents hadn’t said anything, but she wondered if there was a part of them that was hurt or offended that she’d gone to Helen’s rather than to them when she came back from New York. Helen hadn’t asked her why either, had immediately said yes to the company, but the truth was Josie hadn’t been able to bear the thought of spending that length of time there, even as she felt cowardly because of it.
‘Right, I’m off to have a quick ciggy,’ said Memo, and Josie frowned.
‘You shouldn’t. I thought you were giving up.’
Memo waved a hand in the air. ‘The damage is already done, my love.’ From the look on Helen’s face she, too, wanted to say something to her mother about that, though Josie couldn’t help seeing the irony there, given no one could tell Helen to stop indulging in the things she loved, either.
Josie watched Memo leave the room, wrapping her coat tight around her, while her grandad waved at Bia from across the room. Then Geoffrey descended on them with a flourish. ‘Terribly sorry all, but I need to steal Josie away for a moment.’ He grabbed her upper arm with a firm grip, as if daring her to argue. Out of the corner of her eye, Josie saw Helen, who was a good ten years older than Geoffrey, eyeing him up speculatively. To Josie’s surprise, he didn’t balk from the look, but gave Helen a little smile, bowed his head. Then marched Josie off across the stone floor.
‘I want to introduce you to someone,’ he said as they approached one of her photographs, then tapped someone – presumably the someone, on the shoulder. A woman, slightly older than Josie, tanned and with sun-streaked blonde hair, turned, raised one eyebrow. ‘Charlotte – this is Josie.’
Josie smiled politely and offered her hand, trying not to display any outward sign of nerves as she wondered who this was. ‘Hello.’
Charlotte took her hand and shook it in a brisk, efficient way. ‘Hi there. I’ve been admiring your work.’ Her voice was just like her handshake – cool and to the point. ‘I work out in Botswana, and we’re running a photography internship this year, partnering with one of the big lodges there.’ She ran her gaze briefly over Josie, and Josie had the distinct impression she was being measured up. ‘Geoffrey spoke highly of you and suggested you may be interested in wildlife photography.’ It was a statement rather than a question.
Josie was wondering what ‘spoke highly’ actually meant, given the man had mostly been growling orders and criticisms at her over the last two months, but Geoffrey gave her a little nod. She met Charlotte’s very direct gaze, tried hard not to bite her lip. ‘Wow. That’s amazing, thanks so much for thinking of me.’ Though the woman hadn’t actually said they were thinking of her, Josie realised, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous her hands must look, loosely hanging at her sides.
Charlotte handed her a card, which Josie took, looking down at it. ‘The details of the internship are on the website there. You’ll need to apply officially, but after having seen some of your work this evening I’d say the chances of you being selected for interview are high. You’ve only got another day to get the application in though – we’ve had to keep the selection process short and fast because the funding has only just been confirmed.’ She smiled – efficient again, like she’d figured out just how much energy was needed for her face muscles to produce the desired effect, then nodded to Geoffrey and walked off, leaving Josie feeling slightly windblown.
She looked at Geoffrey, who was smirking at her, like he’d seen Charlotte produce this effect before. Josie shook her head. ‘I’m not totally sure what happened.’
‘Well, I think you’ve just been offered the chance at an experience of a lifetime, little grasshopper.’
She looked down at the card, then up at him, still feeling like she was playing catch-up. ‘Is it inappropriate to hug you right now?’
He held up a hand, wrinkled his nose. ‘I don’t go in for that sort of thing.’
Josie laughed. ‘This is so cool, and thank you so much for mentioning me to her . . .’
‘But?’
She sighed. ‘But I can’t take an unpaid internship.’
He raised those bushy eyebrows. ‘Whyever not?’
‘Well . . . I’m not twenty-one anymore, for one.’
‘Oh yes, I forgot that you’re ancient.’
‘Well, I am, in comparison to everyone else here.’ He deliberately looked around the room, which included a fair few people her grandparents’ age. She made an impatient noise. ‘You know what I mean. And I’ve used up my quota of life breaks on this course, sadly.’
His eyebrows resumed their natural, frown-like position. ‘Don’t see what the big deal is. All your food and accommodation would be covered, and it’s only for a year.’
She huffed. ‘Yes, but I have no money, Geoffrey.’
‘I think there’s a pittance-like salary. Potentially. Besides, don’t you have any savings? A girl like you’s got to, surely.’
‘What do you mean, a girl like me?’
‘You know . . .’ – he waved a hand in front of her face – ‘organised, with a good head on your shoulders.’ Josie pursed her lips, not entirely sure if he meant that as a firm compliment. ‘Anyway,’ Geoffrey continued, ‘you don’t have to decide now. Right now, you should just be enjoying the evening, given all the work you put in. Meanwhile, I have to do the rounds, I’m afraid.’ He gave her an uncharacteristic squeeze on the shoulder as he left, and she went over to join Laura, Bia and John.
Bia grinned at her. ‘Check you out! You’re like, an actual photographer.’
John gave her shoulder a thump. ‘Yeah, congratulations. We should have asked you to do the wedding photos.’ Laura smiled and nodded at that, in a way that made Josie want to laugh. There was absolutely no way that Laura would have let an untested photographer loose at her wedding.
The door to the vault opened, and Josie snapped her gaze towards it automatically. But it was just a woman that Josie didn’t recognise, holding the hand of a young boy. She turned back to Laura and Bia, to see them exchange a glance. ‘What?’ Josie asked, defensively.
‘Looking for someone, are we?’ Bia asked, bringing her wine to her lips.
‘No,’ she said, but the heat blossoming at the nape of her neck was giving her away. ‘Alright, fine, I thought Max might be here. And it’s not out of the realms of possibility, so don’t look at me like that. He introduced me to Geoffrey in the first place, didn’t he?’
‘Hmm, I remember,’ Bia said, in a tone that could have indicated disapproval, despite the fact that they were all in this room now only because of that introduction.
Laura glanced at John, who immediately went sauntering over to the bar, then turned to Josie. ‘Did you invite him?’
She bit her lip. ‘Well, no.’ She’d thought about it, not that she’d admit that to her two friends. Thought about it because she did, after all, owe him for this. And then decided that the safest bet was just not to go there. But despite that, and despite the fact that Josie had effectively told him she never wanted to see him again, she hadn’t been able to help thinking that Geoffrey might have invited him, and that maybe he might have said yes to it. And, if she was being really, truly honest with herself, a little part of her had hoped for it.
Laura and Bia exchanged another look, clearly bonded over their disapproval of Max.
She sighed. ‘I got flowers,’ she admitted. A big, gorgeous bunch of blue, white and purple flowers, delivered to her flat this morning.
‘From him?’ Bia demanded.
Josie shook her head, stopped halfway through the action. ‘Well, I don’t know. There was no note.’ Laura’s eyebrows shot up, while Bia tapped her fingernails – painted dark blue, to go with her now almost charcoal hair – against her now empty wine glass.
‘So you thought they were from him?’ Laura asked.
Josie wrinkled her nose and said nothing, knowing there was no right answer to that question. If she said no, she was sure they’d see through it, and if she said yes, she wasn’t quite sure what she was admitting. She’d assumed, at first, that the flowers were from Memo, but she had denied it when Josie had asked, and Josie hadn’t been able to think of who else they might be from. And Max would have been able to find out her address from Geoffrey, wouldn’t he? She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Stupid, letting herself go down that road. She’d told him she didn’t want to see him again – she should stick by that.
Josie and Bia were both watching her a little too intently, and she squirmed under the weight of their combined gaze. ‘You need to message him,’ Bia declared, after a moment. Laura frowned, but Bia nodded. ‘Ask him if they were from him, and if so, then why. If they’re nothing to do with him then at least you won’t be wondering. You need closure, Josie.’
Laura’s expression straightened out thoughtfully. ‘Hmm. There may be something in that.’
‘I don’t need closure,’ Josie said, trying to sound like she felt the idea preposterous. The problem was, Bia might be right. She’d known, really, that he wouldn’t be here. And what had she been hoping for, anyway? That he’d broken up with Erin and would arrive with flowers, chocolate and champagne in hand, begging her to give him a chance, telling her that she was the love of his life? She almost let out a snort at the thought of it.
John reappeared at Laura’s side, as if drawn by some silent signal, with four glasses of wine clutched in both hands. He dished them out, and Josie sipped her red automatically. Laura looked at her critically. ‘I think the only thing to do,’ she said, a little formally, ‘is to get you good and drunk.’
Bia lifted her glass in agreement and Josie cocked her head. ‘Hmm. There may be something in that.’