Once out of sight of Freya, Travis trudged back to the gallery. His jaunty mood was largely an act as the scale of his task was thrown into focus again. Most of the other shops were let and looked smart and thriving, whether they were familiar fixtures or fresh enterprises.
The traditional butchers was still bustling, now cheek by jowl with a trendy cocktail bar. There was a walking boot shop that had been there since he was a boy, next to a vape shop which certainly hadn’t. The contrast of old and new matched his own feelings about being back in Bannerdale: at once a part of the scenery yet also the new kid in town. He couldn’t decide which role he felt least uncomfortable with.
As the sun finally rose over the fells, the place was waking up and winter sunlight bathed the snow-topped ridges and peaks to the northern side of the village. He itched to be up there, taking pictures of the sunrise turning the snow and bracken russet red – perhaps spotting a red squirrel or a roe deer. No. He didn’t dare take any more photos until he had the gallery stocked for Saturday’s fair.
Jokes apart, the breakfast meeting had been a sobering reminder that he was now a businessperson with responsibilities, rents and staff to pay like any other trader, including Freya herself. Perhaps that’s why he’d been making light of the whole event: trying to cover his own apprehension about his new venture under a sarcastic veneer.
Wow. What was he saying? He sounded exactly like Jos Beresford who’d lived in Bannerdale, but hadn’t been at their school. His parents had sent him to a private school and while Travis had played on the village football team with him, they’d never really got on.
The scene from the meeting flooded back to him: Jos looming over Freya. He’d certainly got it in for her too, for some reason. Travis had almost stepped in but then realised she didn’t need a knight charging in … Maybe Jos fancied her. Who could blame him?
Sitting next to her had been an exquisite form of torment: pleasurable and frustrating – but mostly frustrating. He half-wished he hadn’t wound Brian up but it was worth it to make Freya giggle like a teenager.
For a short while, he’d been transported back to the unalloyed silliness of youth, and thoroughly enjoyed it – but now he was weighed down by reality.
He reached the gallery, hoping Hamza had been OK without him.
The smell of fresh paint hit him as soon as he opened the door.
He’d have to hope it subsided before Saturday morning but at least the place did look fresher. It was still damp despite the heating being on and he still hadn’t managed to get hold of an electrician.
‘Hello! We’ve had a delivery while you were out,’ Hamza called from the rear of the shop where the framing and printing equipment had been dusted down and checked over. Mercifully, it was working.
Hamza was busy unpacking frames from the boxes, which now covered much of the floor. Some contained mounts and frames that he’d brought in, while others were ready printed pictures that he’d had to outsource because he hadn’t had time to get his own printer up and running. They needed stock and lots of it ready for the opening.
He experienced a mild ripple of panic. They opened in a few days’ time and the shelves and walls were currently empty.
‘How was the meeting?’
Travis thought back to Freya, rocking with mirth beside him and then hinting she’d rather avoid his presence completely. ‘As you’d expect,’ he said, ‘dull as dishwater.’
‘Really?’ Hamza raised an eyebrow.
‘Yeah.’ Travis sighed, ‘It also reminded me of why I left Bannerdale in the first place. Small town pettiness – but also comfortingly trivial. If you know what I mean.’
‘I think I do …’ Hamza said, though the puzzled frown said otherwise.
Travis wasn’t going to mention Freya and was relieved when a man in a hi-vis jacket poked his head round the door. ‘Hi, mate. Got your sign here.’
Travis thanked the driver and manhandled the large plastic-wrapped package through the door.
The sign was bigger than he’d expected so he and Hamza laid it on the floor and cut the tape open, unwrapping the bubble wrap and uncovering the lettering.
Peak Perspectives.
Gallery and photography tours
by Travis Marshall FRPS
‘Wow …’ Hamza let out a breath.
Travis couldn’t speak as he rose from his knees to stand beside his friend. Normally he wasn’t the slightest bit impressed by qualifications and ‘guff’ but he had to swallow a lump in his throat.
This was real and writ large in front of his eyes: he had his own business, his own premises – and his name on the front of it.
That FRPS – Fellow of the Royal Photographic Society – had been very hard won. They didn’t hand out the Distinction lightly and it had required the submission of a portfolio of his very best work. He’d acquired the fellowship for his landscape work, but he could have submitted a natural history portfolio too.
He could only have dreamed of it when he was a boy first picking up a second-hand camera on an online auction site. His heart swelled with pride and emotion. He’d come a long, long way.
‘Penny for them?’ Hamza stood at his shoulder.
‘I was just thinking …’ Travis felt embarrassed about voicing his feelings. ‘This. I’m probably being stupid but it feels … surreal. Not something, someone like me could have ever achieved … should have achieved.’
Hamza patted his back. ‘It’s real, buddy. Celebrate it. Believe in it. You should be proud.’ With a broad smile, he swept his arm around the room. ‘Now all we need to do is actually put some of your work on the walls otherwise no one will be able to buy it!’
‘True,’ Travis said. ‘Shall we get the sign up first to show we mean business?’
‘I’ll bring the stepladder and tool kit from the back. Then we need to get cracking, it’s going to be a very long day – make that days.’
Mid-afternoon, Bree came by with Travis’s nephew, Dylan, who’d started at the village nursery school the previous September, and his niece, Rosie, in a buggy. Another bonus of being back in Bannerdale was that he got to spend time with his family. Bree was also going to work at the gallery on Saturdays and one day a week while Travis led photography tours. Her husband would be looking after the kids.
Bree held onto Dylan tightly and didn’t venture beyond the rear staff area at Travis’s warning.
‘Much as I’d love to let you inside, there’s so much glass and stuff round, it’s not safe,’ he said, taking Dylan’s hand so Bree could peer into the main gallery. Rosie was safely strapped in her buggy and more interested in her toy giraffe.
She wrinkled her nose in dismay. ‘It does look a bit of a tip.’
He wasn’t the least bit offended by his sister’s plain speaking; he was used to her by now and very grateful for all she’d done for him and Seb. ‘Thanks, hopefully it’ll look a lot different by Saturday. Are you sure it won’t be too much?’ he said, spotting her eyes widen at the mess in the gallery.
Bree shook her head. ‘No. I’ll be climbing the walls with these two all day every day and having a job will make me feel a bit more like a proper adult again. The money will be nice too.’
‘Sorry I can’t pay you more.’
‘So am I.’ She laughed. ‘It’s OK, you’re already paying me more than I’d get in any other retail job and the hours suit me.’ A mischievous smile crept onto her face. ‘Anything to keep you here for a while. Besides you look as if you could do with the help!’
‘Ha ha. Thanks Bree.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said then squealed as Dylan broke free of Travis and darted forward, shouting ‘Camerrarrrras!’
‘Come here!’ Bree shouted.
Fortunately, Hamza scooped him up and returned him to his mother.
‘He’s a budding photographer,’ Hamza said with a wry smile.
Bree squeaked in horror. ‘He can see Travis’s stuff on that table. He’s been watching some kids’ programme about wildlife filming.’
‘Good to start young,’ Hamza said.
Travis crouched down to Dylan’s level. ‘If you want to take some pictures, buddy, I’ll show you very soon but maybe with a camera you can actually hold.’
‘Thank you, Unca Tardis.’
Travis burst out laughing at the mangling of his name.
‘He doesn’t know what a Tardis is,’ Bree said. ‘Come on, trouble.’
Dylan allowed his mother to take his hand and she kept hold of it while expertly manoeuvring the buggy towards the shop door with one hand. Travis opened it wide and helped her down the low step. ‘See you on Saturday. Dylan’s looking forward to seeing the lights being switched on.’
‘And Santa!’ he cried. ‘In his boat.’
‘Santa. Of course. He’s arriving on one of the steamers at the boat pier,’ she explained to a baffled Hamza. ‘Then he gets a lift to the village in an open-top car.’
She smiled at Dylan before fixing Travis with the kind of glare reserved for when he’d been in trouble at school – again. ‘I’ll be here at eight-thirty on Saturday so you’d better get your act together by then. You might be the big hotshot photographer but you do need something to sell.’
‘I’ll make sure he does,’ Hamza said, going back inside the shop.
Travis saw her off at the door. ‘I got your message about looking in on Seb,’ he said. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘Thanks.’ She sighed. ‘I wanted to talk to you about him but not in front of your friend. I told you Seb needs some support.’
‘I’m going to take him to the pub, see if I can spark his interest in playing again. Do you know why he stopped?’
‘No, but he’s gone downhill since he did. Thanks for helping.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
Travis locked the door behind her and went into the back to put the camera away in its case.
‘Bree’s kids are cute,’ Hamza said, piling up frames and mounts.
‘True. They’re also a handful.’
‘She seems to cope.’
‘She runs a tight ship. Her husband’s a decent bloke and she deserves one after our upbringing. It’s good to see the two of them happy.’
Hamza paused. ‘You ever think of having kids?’
Travis held his camera. ‘No … maybe once but now. I’m thirty-two. I’m single. I’ve seen what can go wrong.’
‘I think it’s a bit too soon to make that decision, mate,’ Hamza said.
‘Maybe … How about you?’ Travis asked.
‘Yeah, I’d like some. My folks would like me to have some.’
‘With Caz?’
Hamza shrugged. ‘That’s just it. I don’t know and I’m not sure she does. We had words while you were out at the meeting. You know that mock wedding you had to take part in? It chimed with me when you said it was all set up to fulfil the adults’ fantasies. I get that. That’s how I feel: that a wedding … might all be a huge theatrical event, all a performance for our families.’
‘Hmm.’ Travis laid down the camera and folded his arms. ‘You need to have a serious talk. I mean it. You probably shouldn’t even be here. You should be with Caz, deciding what you two really want.’
Hamza sighed. ‘Maybe. Maybe I thought that working round the clock to renovate this place would be easier.’ He smiled wryly. ‘And I’m off to Scotland tomorrow morning so I can’t see her until Christmas.’
Travis shook his head. ‘I can’t solve that for you, buddy. Look, if you want to take a break and have a proper chat, we can do. Or if you need to call her back, I’ll give you some privacy.’
‘Nah. I appreciate the offer but can we just work?’ Hamza grinned and swept a hand around the shop, taking in the chaos. ‘We sure need to. For now, I just wanna hide away and get some space.’
‘OK.’
Travis had felt exactly the same after he’d split up with Freya, except he’d been a teenager and his escape had been to run away to the city and throw every ounce of energy into honing his photography skills.
He should thank Freya for that. Once he knew there was nothing to keep him in Bannerdale, he’d single-mindedly pursued his dream. If they’d stayed together, married, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have had the life he did now.
He’d worked part-time in a camera shop to help fund his studies and spent every spare hour in the outdoors with the uni photography club. It was hard to get a foot in the door and he’d had to carry on working for the camera shop, and take on any assignment going to supplement his income. He’d lost count of the number of engaged couples and pets he’d photographed, and the mind-numbing PR jobs he’d done for the local council and businesses.
Eventually, though, his wildlife and landscape shots had begun to gain him respect and a following. He’d built up his contacts and had started taking his own clients out on tours.
The breakthrough had really come when he’d won a prestigious prize for young photographers, which had attracted the attention of the media, leading to commissions – and to a growing list of customers for his tours.
It had meant spending most of his time travelling, either around the UK or abroad, and he hardly saw his studio flat in London. He’d rarely been able to get home to Bannerdale to visit his family and he’d hardly seen his father above a couple of times since he’d left school.
His lifestyle had never been conducive to relationships and the ones he’d had had been flings. His whole life had been consumed by his job – and Freya had most definitely been better off without him.
He shook himself. Now was not the time to dwell on the past.
He had his own gallery, and even if it needed a ton of work, it was finally coming together.
If he could fix the damp problem, make the place safe and get something on the walls to sell, he might even make it for the opening on Saturday morning.