Page 7 of A Summer of Castles
‘You’re not surprised by my ridiculous ambition?’ I mocked myself without hubris.
‘To the contrary, I’m delighted by it. Although, I can’t offer you help with the “all” aspect. There must be hundreds—’
‘You can start with one-hundred and fifty, unless you count those that are gone without trace.’ My collection of books on castles was squeezed next to the photo albums.
‘Why?’
I shrugged. ‘Why not?’
He shot me down with the kind of disappointed expression he might give a student awarded a poor grade.
I let down my defences begrudgingly. ‘Because they talk to me. And I’m curious about what they tell me.’
‘Talk?’
‘In my head. Not words, per se, images of the past that come to life. I smell… hear… I know, just ignore that side of me. I’m here in a different capacity—’
‘Which interests me. But so do the castles.’ He focused in on my name badge. ‘Robyn Yates – you want to time travel as well as take photographs?’
I nearly scowled at his mocking tone and thought better of it. ‘I doesn’t matter what I want to do, I can’t recreate the past with photographs.’
David Carmichael tucked his hands behind his back and straightened. ‘I disagree. In fact, I have a proposal for you. I need a photographer for a special project. The trouble is I can’t provide a wage, only very generous expenses and whatever equipment you need. Neither will the job last more than a couple of months. You need to be available over the summer. And… be prepared to travel, although nothing arduous. I have a client, if you like, somebody who lives abroad and can’t do the task due to poor health.’
My jaw dropped, leaving me gaping with surprise. An avalanche of adrenaline-soaked thoughts followed. ‘To take pictures of what?’
‘Castles. In Northumberland and Yorkshire primarily. So sorry, not all of them. About fifteen or so.’ It was his turn to blush. ‘It’s remarkable, isn’t it, that you want to do something similar to my friend?’
The pause dragged on. It seemed it wasn’t a topic either of us wanted to explore. Fate had brought us together, why was best left unknown.
‘This person,’ I said. ‘Who are they?’
The pink tinge deepened, the pause lengthy. ‘I can’t say,’ he said quietly. ‘There are good reasons for anonymity, I’m sure. It’s an unfortunate limitation, among others.’ The embarrassment was poorly hidden.
I blinked. ‘Oh.’
‘I know,’ David shrugged. ‘Eccentric is perhaps an understatement. My wife and I owe this friend…’ He left the sentence hanging for a second and his eyes seemed to lose focus before sharpening again. ‘I can tell you that you both share a love of history, and especially castles, and their architecture and purpose. An academic, like me. But, beyond that, the purpose of the request is to remain secret. I’m to give you a list… a specific itinerary.’ He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets to hide the trembling and cleared his throat. ‘Are you interested?’
The answer came immediately without hesitation or wavering. ‘Absolutely.’
We exchanged business cards. His was laminated, mine thin cardboard.
‘I’ll email you,’ he said. ‘Give you more details. But I do need to know soon. The project needs completing by the end of August.’
‘Sure,’ I said.August! I had a job and a life that wouldn’t accommodate a summer of travelling.
More people were edging their way to my part of the exhibition, possibly drawn by David’s presence. He waved at one. The man had connections, which meant whoever he was working for, probably did too.
A strange setup was in the making. I would have to approach the hotel about a sabbatical. Then there were my parents, who wouldn’t want me to take up any job that wasn’t paid.
He slid a foot back and opened up the space between us again. His dark eyes reflected a beam of light, and they glinted, brighter than last time, burning a fire inside of him, it seemed. I’d call it enthusiasm. His whole posture suddenly lacked the stiffness I had seen when he spoke to Yvette. An invisible burden that had troubled him was gone. If I had to pick a moment to take a snapshot of him, one that captured him fully, then this would be that second. Perhaps he wasn’t a bad choice for a go-between.
Four
The email arrived the next day, my day off, so I had time to think about the proposal. With my parents out of the house, I had the family laptop to myself. The “slab” at it was known - metallic grey and not really portable – lived on the dining room table surrounded by a mountain of clutter and ironing. I read the message through several times. My clammy palms were super itchy, and I scratched the skin almost feverishly. As for the pace of my heartbeats, there was a manic edge to the rhythm. What I was reading was an unbelievable opportunity.
The list of castles included ones I’d always wanted to visit, and the good news continued. Somebody, a nameless person, was going to pay for food and board, a rental car and fuel, and all the photography equipment I needed, which I could keep afterwards. If that was the deal, then there was no need for a commission fee. What else was I going to spend my money on? What I had to do was deliver on specific requests. The mysterious client of David’s had to have a good awareness of each location because the details were strikingly complex: this angle, this direction. What he hadn’t suggested was the technique of photographing the views; only the subject was decided in advance. However, as David pointed out at the end of the long email, I was free to take whatever other photos I wished as long as I prioritised the agenda.
The oddest request was right at the end.