(049)
Despite the trees above blocking most of the sun – of which Henry was grateful – sweat still trickles down his sides under the weight of the camera, making his shirt cling to him beneath his jacket. The urge to strip off a layer was strong, but until he stopped sweating it wasn’t really in consideration. Instead, to ease the weight he shifts the tripod to his opposite shoulder in a now oft repeated action, careful not to knock his straw hat to the floor in the process.
He’d hoped to have found a worthy subject by now, but nothing had been forthcoming. The view from the top of the hill had been better in his mind’s eye than in reality, and one look through the viewfinder had confirmed his doubts. During a recent walk without his camera he’d come across an abundance of shots for him to take, but now it came time to push the button he found himself wavering.
At the foot of the hill the path converges to the right, flanked by a field in which he decides to take a rest. The wood of the tripod digs into his shoulder, so he moves it once more to the other side before shuffling down the gentle grassy bank with three little steps and a hop at the bottom. He plants his feet to cushion the camera as best as he can, but still feels the weight of it pinch beneath his clothes. With a wince he extends the legs of the tripod, standing it up beside him before sitting down and resting his back against the sloping bank.
Spread out in front of him was a field of little note. Sheep are dotted here and there, grazing on the unkempt tufts of grass that stand out from the rest. A single willowy sapling stands alone between him and the winding river, waving gently in the breeze. And on the other side of the field to him, resting by the water’s edge beneath embroidered parasols are three young women. Henry casts his eyes across the things before him as if they were of equal interest, but in truth only one really had his attention.
One of the three girls was busy with removing her stockings and shoes whilst another held her parasol, and the third baulked at her friend’s boldness. They laugh and their laughter carries across the field to Henry, who swallows the saliva that was building in his mouth. The third girl’s head swivels to check that no-one’s watching and catches Henry’s gaze. He looks away, pulling out his pocket watch and giving it a cursory glance – not that he reads what it says, and in the corner of his eye he sees her gesticulate in his direction, before lowering her parasol into a shield between them and him. His face flushes hot at the feeling that he’d been caught and he stands to leave, only to see the parasol whipped away, and the half-undressed girl smiling in his direction.
“Make a photograph, if you like!” She calls, her voice as bold as her actions.
Her friends gasp and cover their mouths to hide their laughter, and Henry feels the sweat beading on his neck. He tips his hat to break their eye contact and her smile broadens into a grin, before returning to her initial task. One leather shoe is resting on the grass beside her with the stocking poking out of it, leaving her to unbuckle the other and slide it off. Henry watches the delicacy of the action for a moment, unable to look away, then recognises that he’s staring and whips his head towards his camera. He lifts it up, shifting it slightly away from the bank and settling it in front of him. His hand comes around the side and his fingers fumble trying to unhook the latch at the front, eventually needing both hands to do it. The flap drops forward and he sets to work prying out the extendable lens from its moorings. He peers round the camera at his subject, just in time to see her pull her skirts above her knees and tread lightly towards the water. His pulse quickens, along with his pace. Checking the distance scale along the lens he sets the focus, adjusts the aperture and shutter speed and lowers his eye to the viewfinder.
A liberating secrecy overcomes him as he closes his left eye to the world, taking it all in through the frame he had created. A sight just for him, in a role wherein he was required to look. The two friends watch on, though further from the edge than she is, while she lays languid, resting against her elbows, her left leg submerged in the water from the knee down and her right led out naked before her. He drinks the image in through the viewfinder, seeming at once so far away and yet so intimate.
She’d forgone the parasol entirely, and the glare of the midday sun reflects off of her porcelain white skin. Henry traces the shape of her from the tip of her toes upwards, searching for the cable release with his right hand and following it down to the button, where his thumb caresses it absentmindedly. She laughs again with an ease that seemed impossible to Henry, her teeth flashing bright as her head tilts back, and then her eyes are on him. She looks past the camera, through his eye and into his soul, making him feel naked. His thumb sinks and the shutter opens, flooding light onto the film and exposing it to the moment. He holds her gaze throughout, wanting her to see him.
The shutter clicks shut and the moment is captured. He pulls his head back from the viewfinder and begins to pack away the camera. He resists the urge to look in her direction until the tripod’s legs are once more pinching him through the fabric of his jacket, when he can’t help but take one last glance.
The girl rests in the same position, her hand covering the sun from her eyes, though she’s still looking through him. He tips his hat and begins to turn when he sees her arm go up into the air, beckoning him to her. He freezes, half turned away, watching in the corner of his eye as she does so. His heart pounds in his chest and his palms begin to sweat at the thought of going over, but instead he turns his back, climbs the bank and walks with pace down the dusty path away from her.
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