CHAPTER TWO – HATTIE
“That’s it,” I say. “Now, just tilt your head up and to the right slightly.”
The brunette woman on the stool before me does as I instruct, and the movement flatters her profile.
“Pull your shoulders back. Yes, that’s perfect. Hold that.”
The ghost of a smile appears on her face, and I snap a few pictures from several different angles.
“There we go, all done.” I smile at her and move to my laptop to show her the pictures. “Serena Christiansen, number one-eight-three-seven, right?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” she replies in a gentle, lilting voice as she leans over to peek at her headshots. “They look great.”
“Perfect. You should have a copy of the final, edited photos to select your new photo from in around a week or two.” I hand her back the little card with her information on. “Your name and number will be your login when they’re ready to view on the website, so keep this safe.”
“I will do, thank you.” She beams at me before bidding me goodbye and leaving with a little pep in her step.
Well, isn’t she just a little ball of sunshine?
I have to be honest, taking headshots for working adults beats school photos any day of the week.
Luckily for me, that’s how I’m spending the rest of the day. Photographing grown adults for a company-wide system renewal, not kids with sticky fingers and missing teeth.
All right, I admit it.
The gap-toothed ones are cute.
There’s just something about the way they smile that really tickles me.
The rest of my afternoon flies by all too quickly. The headshots go smoothly—although there’s always an awkward one in every bunch—and I see person after person, take photo after photo, and by the time I’m done, I’m unsure if my hand will ever uncurl from its slightly clawed position.
“Thank you for your hard work all day today, Miss Porter,” Rafayel, the CEO, says to me, holding out a small brown envelope. “This should be the note for the rest of your agreed-upon payment. I had it sent over earlier for you.”
“Thank you.” I take it from him and quickly look at the receipt inside and, with a nod, tuck it into my bag. I don’t need to confirm with my bank. I know Raf would never screw me over. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Rayner. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything else.”
He holds his hand out. “Of course. Are you heading home for the day now?”
I shake it and smile at the way his formality drops as soon as we’re alone. “Yeah, I’m all done.”
“Do you have any plans for this evening, or would you finally consider joining me for dinner?” His lips curl up, a spark of hope igniting in his eyes as we head towards the front doors.
Well, I can’t say I haven’t seen this coming... again. The man’s been flirting with me since we first met, and that was seven years ago.
He also knows damn well that I’m not in the market for a man, this brat.
I already have one, after all.
The man in question just doesn’t know it yet.
“As always, I’m very flattered, but I’m still spoken for.” I hold up my left hand and point to the dainty silver band on my ring finger.
Raf bobs his head ruefully, then chuckles. “You know, Harriet, unless you show this mystery man to me, I’m going to start thinking you just wear that ring in the hopes I’ll finally give up on you.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Soon. I promise. It’s a complicated situation.”
He nudges me, holding open the door. “So you keep saying. He must be one hell of a man since you keep turning me down.”
“You’re so lucky I don’t mix my personal business with my professional life, you menace. By the way, you’ve created a great environment here. Everyone seems really happy, and it’s got a great vibe.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to hear.” He beams at me as we step outside. “It looks like it’s going to rain. Can I get you an umbrella from inside?”
I wave him off. “Thanks, but it’s fine. I don’t have far to go.” I tuck my jacket a little tighter around me and nod at him. “I’ll let you know when the gallery is ready for everyone to access.”
“Sure. Speak soon, Harri—Hannah.” He holds up a hand in goodbye, and I dip my head, hurrying off in the direction of the park.
I don’t want to go home until I absolutely have to, and there’s nothing better than sitting in the park to pass the time. Portrait photography may pay my bills—or pad my savings account, as it is—but nature photography is where my heart truly lies.
The mundane.
The ever-changing.
The everyday.
The things we take for granted, like the spring blossom and chirping birds, like overgrown grass and gently moving clouds.
Capturing a moment that I know will never exist again brings a peace to me I can’t put into words.
I step through the gates into the Royal Central Park and breathe in the fresh air.
A gentle breeze rustles the leaves, wrapping me in a fleeting moment of peace.
I remove my camera from my bag and point it upwards just in time to catch the sun’s rays filtering through the thick canopy of the oak tree.
A bird chirps from somewhere nearby, and I pull my camera down from my face to find it. My eyes scan the branches of the trees around me until my gaze falls onto a small bird singing away on a branch. I move carefully so as not to disturb it and raise my camera once more.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
The ache in my hand fades away to nothing as I fall into a comfortable rhythm of taking photos. The warmth the repetitive action brings me wraps around me like a blanket, and before I know it, an hour has passed.
I stop by one of the little huts that sells hot drinks and get a cup of green tea. It’s not the warmest day in the world, being early spring, and my fingertips are starting to chill. I’m just not ready to go back to that place I call home, and I’d rather freeze for a little longer.
I sit on a bench, smiling warmly at an elderly gentleman on the other side, and set my bag down by my feet. Heat from the tea seeps through the cup and warms my hands, and for a moment, that’s all I do.
Sit, enjoy, and feel.
After a while, the elderly gentleman gets up and moves on, leaving me alone on the bench.
The sun is even lower in the sky now, giving a hint of a yellowy orange glow to the previously clear blue above me.
I set my cup on the bench next to me and retrieve my camera, slowly raising it to snap some more pictures.
Then, I sigh.
The lower the sun gets, the colder it gets. The colder it gets, the closer I come to having to return to that house. To Jasmine’s jealousy, to Rosalyn’s machinations, to my father’s wilful obliviousness.
Even the household staff barely acknowledge my existence. Why would they? None of them care about me. Jasmine is the one they’ve seen grow up, not me.
I’m nothing compared to the future crown princess.
I am but a mere inconvenience, a threat to her ideal future. There’s no reason for the staff to care about me, either. There isn’t a single member of staff I recognise from my early childhood, and I don’t have to be a genius to figure out what happened when Rosalyn moved in.
Every trace of my mother has been wiped from the place—the old staff all gone, photos locked away. Even the mere mention of her name is forbidden.
Maybe I should just get a hotel for the night. Tell them my work is running late, and I’ve decided to book a room somewhere.
No. That’s more hassle than it’s worth. Last time I did it, Rosalyn sent someone to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t lying.
Sure, I could pay them off, but I have better things to do with my money.
Like use it to ruin her life.
With another sigh, I set my camera in my lap and pick up my tea to finish it.
It’s long gone cold, so I abandon that plan and get to my feet and tuck it into the bin a few steps away, then gather my bag from the ground.
At the very least, I can get dinner somewhere and take it home so I don’t have to sit at the table with them.
Small wins.
I tug my jacket a little tighter around me and begin the walk to the exit of the park. The one furthest away, of course, and I’m taking the long route. Anything to delay the inevitable.
I take photos as I walk. Some of the sky, some of the trees, and some of my general surroundings. People-watching is one of the best things about what I do, and the park is filled with people.
Couples walk hand in hand, talking and laughing. Groups of teenagers joke and mess around, taunting one another playfully. Children giggle and scream while parents try to wrangle them, and on the other end of the spectrum, they carry their exhausted little ones, holding them close.
People in suits getting off work hurry along with their phones pressed to their ears. Others meander along, soaking in the surroundings.
And I photograph them all, close enough to see their activities, but far enough away that they’ll always be anonymous.
“Excuse me, miss?”
I jolt and turn in the direction of the voice. A large man who looks to be in his forties peers down at me sternly, and I take a step back.
“Me?” I ask.
“Yes. May I see your camera?”
I clutch it tightly. “I think not.”
“I’m afraid I must insist. You were—”
“You can insist all you like, sir, but my answer will remain the same,” I reply. “Certainly until you can offer a good reason for your request. Or are you in the habit of intimidating lone young women in parks?”
He blinks at me, slightly taken aback. “You’re mistaken, miss. I’m merely protecting the—”
“Leave it, Michael.” Another, more familiar voice filters through the air, and I take another step back. “She was nowhere near us.”
“But, Your—” The man, Michael, coughs. “Sir. I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Excuse me, miss. I’m so sorry about him. He was being a bit overzealous.” The owner of the voice steps out from behind the behemoth demanding access to my camera, and something, somewhere deep inside me, sparks to life.