One Summer in Cornwall Karen King (positive books to read TXT) 📖

the women to gather around. The baby was lying peacefully, she really was an angel.

The women got into place, all turning their gaze upon the baby in front of them. Hattie focused her camera, glad that she had brought the travel tripod with her to hold it in the perfect position. The flash unit was already in place. ‘I don’t want you to smile for this shot, just look at Lily,’ she said. ‘Ready?’ She took a few shots, then stood up.

‘Now, can you all please look at me and smile for this one?’

The women looked at the camera, their faces wreathed in smiles. ‘Ready? Smile!’ Again, she took several shots. This was the first time she’d been commissioned to take some multi-generational photos and she wanted them to be perfect. There were five generations of women. The oldest, the great-great grandmother, was eighty-nine, she had told Hattie proudly. It would be an iconic photo.

‘Thanks so much, Hattie. This means a lot to us,’ Julia, Lily’s mother, said as Hattie folded up the tripod, then put it and her camera in the camera bag. ‘If you leave me a couple of your cards, I’ll pass them around. I’m sure some of the other mothers at the mother and baby club will be interested in having photographs taken too.’

‘I need to have some cards printed out, but I’ve got a couple of flyers here. Will they do?’ She took out a few flyers and handed them to her. She knew that she needed to have some business cards done eventually but these would be fine for now. She’d have to think about getting a website up and running too.

‘Perfect.’ Julia took the flyers and put them on the side. ‘I can’t wait to see the photos. When will they be ready?’

‘I’ll email you over a selection to choose from on Monday,’ Hattie told her. ‘Then they’ll be ready by the end of the week.’

I love doing this, she thought, as she said her goodbyes and went out to where her bike was parked by the garage. She’d always enjoyed taking photographs but now she seemed to get real pleasure out of it. It’s as if I’m finally being me, she thought. Was that because she was doing the work she wanted to do, or because she was here, in Port Medden? The little town certainly had a charm to it.

She checked her watch. Jonathan would be showing another potential buyer around the cottage now. There were two viewings today, fifteen minutes apart, so she’d told him to make a cup of coffee if he wanted while he was waiting for the second one. She wondered if any of them would like the cottage enough to make an offer. And if they did, what would she do then?

Marcus dipped his brush into the black paint on the palette and applied a few more strokes to the painting. Then he stood back to study it. It wasn’t often a subject consumed him like this one, he was filled with a desire to finish it but also a dread, as if once the painting was finished, Hattie would be gone – going out of his life as quickly as she had come into it.

And it was almost finished. A bit more work on the face, he hadn’t quite got that ‘loving life’ expression right. Would he be able to capture that on canvas? Hattie would, with her camera. She was so talented; she really had the knack of taking ‘people photographs’. He thought of the photographs she’d taken of the hotel staff, where she seemed to have captured everyone’s personality. She would make a go of her photography business, he was sure.

He heard voices outside and went to the window. Hattie had said that Jonathan was showing two lots of viewers around this afternoon, this couple must be one set. They were out in the back yard, talking to Jonathan. They looked interested. Would they make an offer?

His stomach twisted a little at the thought of Hattie leaving. He turned back to the painting, his eyes resting on the white-blond hair, the wide blue eyes, that gorgeous curvy figure clad in black leather, legs apart astride her bike. The zip of the jacket was half down to expose her sun-kissed neck and a hint of cleavage – he shut his eyes as he remembered caressing her soft skin, scooping those beautiful firm breasts in his hands, kissing those red lips, his hand running through that silky white-blond hair, pressing her closer to his chest. Hattie. She looked sexy, exciting, full of life.

He was falling for her, he realised. He’d been falling for her since they first met, and soon she would be gone. All he would have left of her would be this painting.

Jonathan and the couple had walked back inside now. Marcus moved away from the window and back over to his painting. He’d finish it later or tomorrow. He needed to get out, go for a walk, get his head straight. He hadn’t meant to get involved with Hattie, but he had. Now, he didn’t know what to do about it. Where did they go from here? He was at work tonight, should he suggest calling in again afterwards? If he did, would she think that he was after sex again? If he didn’t, would she feel ignored? Relationships were complicated, that’s why he tried to avoid them. His days were busy, he didn’t want or need a woman in his life to complicate things.

She’ll be gone soon, he reminded himself, she’s only a temporary distraction. But that didn’t make him feel any better.

He made his way to the quiet beach at the end of town, as he always did when he felt restless. Hands in pocket, he stood gazing out at the sea: grey-blue today, and a bit choppy. He looked up at the sky. They were due for some rain later.

He walked back along the seafront by the harbour. It