Getting The Picture (17 page)

FO said she thought Nell Baker had done us all proud with her entertaining and enjoyable talk. GG admitted he'd found it very emotional, and MM said he wondered about getting someone in to talk about poetry. After discussion, it was agreed that MM would ask Robyn to come and speak. GG said he would have liked to ask Robyn himself, but he agreed that it might be more professional coming from a nonfamily member. FO said it would be lovely to have young people around the place more, and wondered about asking Sophi to talk about university. GG said that maybe she could learn to spell her name properly first.

5. Staff hygiene.

After GG said he thought it wasn't appropriate for staff to have defiled hands, there was considerable discussion. FO said she thought every bit of Steve was just perfect, and MM reported that tattoos on hands were a sign of a prison stay. FO said in which case bygones should be left as bygones, but GG said he was deeply worried about the impact the knowledge of this might have on certain residents and would be writing to Brenda for confirmation that police checks on all staff were carried out. FO said he was stuffy, and the meeting ended.

Additional note from GG: Although some alterations to language in these minutes has been made, after considerable discussion it was agreed to leave them as FO's account of events, and they will be commented on at the next meeting. However, it is important to point out that the wellbeing of residents such as Catherine Francis, who might not have seen so much life as others, is of paramount importance. It should also be noted that in the future committee members are not expected to leave the meeting until the Chair has called it officially to a close.

This is FO writing this: The above was added without my agreement. And there is nothing wrong with plain language that everybody can easily understand. However, the ‘considerable discussion' this ‘engendered' was not ‘considered paramount' when GG rewrote much of what I wrote. If people are going to be given jobs, they should be allowed to get on with them. That is FO's view, anyway. And there's no point in stuffiness just for the sake of it.

125.
letter from martin morris to mo griffiths

Dear Mo,

I had forgotten how good it feels to be behind a camera. It's the power it gives you. Not the useless everyday power of being able to say ‘stand over there' or ‘smile', but the more important power of being anonymous. Although I take the picture, it's not me who has the responsibility for what happens after. That's all down to the viewer. Viewer, voyeur. The similarity isn't a coincidence. Well, not in my photographs anyway. That's why I always get the models to look at the lens so the viewer has to admit they're staring at a human being, not just a breast, or a body, or a dream. There's always more there than a fragment, or even a series of fragments.

You see, when I was photographing Florence, I was thinking about you. Because I've been snatching at too many different fragments of you recently and I would give everything to have you look back at me. Or to be able to see you properly, and not through Nell's or Robyn's eyes. And especially not through George's eyes.

Take the other day. I asked George about your hair. It's not as daft as it sounds because I've got him to arrange a hair appointment for Nell. It was all part of my original plan to get Angie back, you see. I figured if he started making a fuss over Nell, then Angie would get jealous and come home.

‘Did you ever make an appointment for your Maureen?' I asked him. We were sitting on our bench. The one around which I spread your cornflower seeds. I like to talk to him there, thinking about how you'll soon be springing up to join us.

Anyway, he looked at me as if I'd belched. ‘No, no, no,' he said. I'm not joking. He really did three no's in a row like that. ‘She did all that kind of thing herself. Much more suitable.' And he did that bark he does. The one where he shuts his eyes.

Suitable? What could be more suitable than beautifying the woman you love?

‘And she kept her hair long, did she?' I asked. I knew you hadn't because I'd seen you just after it was cut the first time. You kept putting your hand up to your neck and feeling the bare space. I didn't like it to begin with, but I got used to it. Just took a bit longer than it would have done if you'd have been with me every day. But what I wanted to know was what made you cut your hair. Your beautiful hair.

‘I don't think she ever had what you might call long hair,' he said then. ‘Or at least not after the children were born. Maureen was never one for thinking about her looks. She preferred to be practical.'

Well, I wanted to say, the Mo I knew cared about how she looked right enough, but I bit my tongue. It's a wonder there's any left these days.

But then I realised a haircut wasn't going to be enough to get this girl of ours back home where she belongs. Somehow, if she's like you, I think it will take more than just a bit of jealousy. So I have been hatching a better plan to bring her back. Something that she won't be able to say no to.

And when she's here, I can get her. She will be the final piece of the jigsaw that brings all our fragments together.

‘Do you believe in infinity, George?' I asked him. He doesn't like a question without a factual yes or no answer, but I wanted to know what he thought. Because the hope that you and I will be together in the end is the only thing that keeps me going and I needed to hear it from him.

‘Not now, Martin,' he said, as if I were a child. He wanted to get back to talking about Nell, and whether I thought she'd think less of him, worrying about a woman's haircut. But I do. I believe in infinity. I just wish it would come sooner.

M

126.
note from robyn baker to martin morris

Dear Martin,

You know I can't come in and do a poetry reading to the Pilgrims, and especially not when you've got my other poems and stories still. Please don't do this to me. I wish you were dead. Or I was. I'm not sure how much more I can take.

Robyn

127.
note from brenda lewis to steve jenkins (attached to 124)

Here are George's committee notes I was telling you about. Is there nothing you can do to head this off before it goes any further? Maybe take George to the pub or find something else that will use up his energy. Helen Elliott came to see me this afternoon, annoyed at not being included. She thought I'd set it up and it was official. I have a bad feeling about this. I suppose if the worse comes to the worst, we could always say we couldn't read the handwriting.

Bren

128.
note from florence oliver to lizzie corn

Dear Lizzie,

It was good to catch up on all your news in your last letter. What a lot has been going on. I think it's very positive of Laurie to take that attitude about Amy's teacher calling her in to talk about Troy because there are many mothers who might be devastated. Still, as you are always telling me, mothers know best. And if Laurie isn't worried about Amy taking up massaging, then I wouldn't worry at all if I were you. Does Laurie know who it was who alerted the school about Troy?

And fancy Brian being picked to do a philosophy course. At his age too. I think it would boggle my mind now to just to think about all those ideas. To think of him being gifted and talented. Is that what you call it? I must get it right when I tell Susan Reed because she tends to get a bit competitive where children are concerned. I suppose he gets a bit overexcited because he's so clever. They do say that intelligent children are the naughtiest. Young Sophi often gets a glint in her eye and I know she's dreaming up trouble. The other day she filled Keith's teacup twice and forgot George altogether. I told her later I knew she'd done it on purpose, but she just winked at me.

Now Lizzie, I would like to tell you about the photography session because I know you and how you will have been thinking the worst. It wasn't at all what I expected. I walked up and down the corridor outside Martin's room a fair few times before knocking on his door, I can tell you. But then, I did that thing you taught me of locking my knees together and deep breathing, and I walked straight in.

I'd been planning all the things I was going to say. I'd even made a note of jokes I could make, but Martin didn't even turn around, so I just stood there. He'd got his camera hung around his neck and he was fiddling with the lens. I coughed, and he still didn't look up. Just nodded his head towards where I could see he'd got a chair from the kitchen and placed it in the middle of the room. There was a sheet draped over the back. Also, something I couldn't work out at first, but then I got it. One of Brenda's aprons. And a dish towel and a mixing bowl from the kitchen. My first thought was how he'd catch it when Matron found him stealing all these things, but my second was about where I was going to get undressed. IF I did. Third, I wasn't sure I wanted to get dressed up as a cook. I'd been expecting something glam. Not cooking.

And that's when I knew I couldn't do it. ‘You can take a picture of me,' I said, ‘but you'll not get me to take my clothes off.'

He looked up then, almost startled.

‘Florence,' he said, as if he had to remind himself who I was, although, as you know, he normally calls me Mrs. Oliver.

I could feel my hands clench into fists at my side.

‘Go on then,' I said. ‘If you're going to take it, make it quick. If you really do have film in your camera, that is.'

He went even more ghostlike than usual. It was the first time I'd been in his room. It's so small that it's hard for him to take a step back, but he did. Although his shoulders brushed the wall, he didn't seem to notice.

‘Stay right there,' he said. ‘Don't move.'

So I just kept on standing there. When I let my hands relax, he said no. I was to clench them again and I was to look at him, just as I'd been doing before. Like I didn't really like him very much. That gave me a shock, because it was as if he was mind reading. I didn't like him much at that moment. I was full of angry feelings. So I glared at him. I thought if he was Graham standing in front of me now, this is how I'd be staring at him. Like an insect I could just tread on. He wouldn't know what had hit him because I'd never let him treat me now like he used to. And through all this, Martin snip-snapped away. Once he told me to look over his shoulder, another time down at the ground, but mostly I just looked straight into the lens. I didn't exactly forget it was Martin on the other side, but I stopped caring. He kept up this chatter about how well I was doing, how good the photographs would be, although when he put the camera down and said that was enough, I didn't want to stop. I wanted just to keep standing there, glowering.

‘Is that it?' I asked. My fingers were aching from how I'd been clenching them so I flexed them a bit. I didn't know what I wanted him to say. Except it wasn't just that I was beautiful anymore. No, I wanted him to say I was powerful, an Amazon, someone who mattered. All Woman. Do you know, Lizzie, I do believe if he'd have asked me, I could have even roared right then.

‘Do you always want more?' he asked. And he did that arching eyebrow thing that made me laugh and it broke the moment, which was a relief really. I thought about how he'd called me a minx right at the beginning and what a shock it had given me. So he put the camera up and took another photo of me laughing, and then he said if I wanted I could undo a few buttons on my dress, and I thought, well, yes, maybe I could. First off, I just showed one shoulder, pulling my bra strap down and I took the pins out of my hair. He took a photograph of me like that.

‘I bet you've got a beautiful back,' he said then. And I thought no one in my life has ever commented on my back. I wasn't sure anyone had even looked at it. So I turned around and let my dress slip down so he could see it. My heart was beating because I was facing the door, and I prayed no one would come in because what on earth would they think we were up to.

‘Will you let me?' Martin said, and I didn't know what he was asking at first, but then I realised he wanted me to undo my bra strap. I nodded. I wanted to cry, and I knew I would if I looked around. But he did it ever so gently. He only fumbled a little bit. Graham never bothered to undo it, you know. He'd only pull it up, but Martin obviously knew what he was doing. I still didn't take my bra off completely, or my dress, although I thought if he touched my skin, I might pop.

‘Beautiful,' Martin said. I heard him move away, so I straightened up and let the dress fall down a little bit more although not below my waist. I heard the camera click.

‘Florence,' Martin called. ‘Will you look over your shoulder at me? Make me the happiest man alive.'

So I tried, but my rheumatism was playing up and besides, I felt all shy, as if we were waking up in bed together, like the first morning with Graham on our honeymoon. When I still loved him. Before I was frightened of him. And it became all mixed up. It was so sweet, so tender in Martin's room, just as it had been in that B&B with Graham that I forgot what a stupid old fool I was. And how someone like your Troy would laugh at me if he saw what we were doing. It was just me and Martin together. And do you know, at that moment, I was one of them at last, Lizzie. I was one of them proper women I used to look at in Graham's magazines.

I went back to my room after we'd finished, and just lay on my bed until supper time. I'd been so many different sorts of women in Martin's room. All the Florences I had no idea were hidden inside of me had come out to have a gander. It was strange, Lizzie, because that's exactly what it felt like, as if it was me who was doing the looking, not Martin. And yet, he was taking the pictures of me, wasn't he?

I didn't even feel ashamed of having taken my dress half off in front of a man who wasn't my husband. Or a doctor. If anything, it was the first shots when I'd been fully dressed and staring that disturbed me the most. Because that was the real me. And when he saw me, he didn't turn away, Lizzie. Not even a little bit.