‘Don’t look at me,’ Julien stated. ‘Look anywhere, Madonna, except at me.’
She laughed and ignored him, looking directly down the lens of his camera and pouting a little. She momentarily glanced to the left and took in the wintry scene of the garden. All around them people were walking through the park as the sun began to set, the glow from the streetlamps, together with the flashing Christmas displays on the neighbouring buildings providing an atmospheric scene.
‘You did spend too long performing in front of the camera. You are ruined,’ he announced, dropping his camera so it hung from his neck.
‘That is extremely rude,’ she announced, jumping down from the bench she had been sat on and stomping towards him.
He put his hands in the air. ‘What? I am supposed to retreat? Be afraid of you just because you have that look on your face?’
She stopped mere inches away from him. ‘What look?’
‘The one where you try to make your beautiful eyes move from perfect circles to angry lines,’ he began. ‘Then your lips come down and you pretend to be mad.’
‘I’m not pretending anything,’ Ava stated. ‘You insulted my modelling skills.’
‘I did not.’
‘Did so.’
‘I was simply saying that photography this way is different to what you are accustomed to.’
‘Maybe, but this was my idea.’ She held aloft the piece of white card in her hands. ‘And you have to admit it was genius.’
She watched him read the words again, and the same thing that had happened the first time happened again. He looked a mix of sad and joyful, his emotions written all over his face but none of them daring to spill. She watched a sigh leave him.
‘I just hope it is enough,’ he stated. ‘To be special enough that people will want to buy the photographs.’
‘Listen, my mother is charging people two hundred euro each to attend. If you are someone who has that sort of money you are going to be buying photographs. I mean it’s going to look great on their social media profiles and a few thousand euros is a drop in the ocean for sheiks and professional footballers.’
‘You are right,’ he agreed. ‘It is just I suppose I do not want to think that the photographs are to be bought to enhance somebody’s public image. I always hope they are bought because they mean something to someone.’
‘Oh, Monsieur Fitoussi, in this case you must make an exception. When we’re talking about raising a lot of money for charity and getting everyone to remember Lauren, I don’t think beggars can be choosers.’ She pushed the placard towards him. ‘You hold the sign up.’
‘I am no model,’ he insisted, holding onto his camera.
‘I agree,’ Ava said, making a grab for the camera. ‘The bone structure is pleasing but you slouch a little sometimes.’
‘Really, Madonna? I slouch?’ he asked, moving the camera away from her.
‘Yes, you do,’ she responded, laughing.
‘Well, you are not the perfect muse I first thought,’ Julien told her. ‘Why can you not be like the Mona Lisa, just look into the mid-distance, that enigmatic expression on your face?’
‘For one because I’m not wearing something medieval and rather drab and two...’ She pulled the camera towards her, forcing him to move with it. ‘Because when you’re taking my photograph I can’t help but remember last night,’ she breathed. ‘And all I can think of is you and me, wearing nothing but a Mona Lisa smile.’
He moved his face a little closer to hers, dark eyes heavy just below the edge of his woollen hat. ‘Is that so?’
She nodded. ‘It’s very distracting,’ she continued. ‘And, I’d go as far to say that it is you who has ruined me for modelling, Monsieur Fitoussi, not the other cameramen with their SLRs and MTFs.’
‘I have ruined you,’ he said as a statement.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, swallowing, as his gaze grew even more intense.
‘What should I do about your accusation?’ he inquired.
‘Well...’ she began, his lips only a fraction of an inch away from hers.
Before they could touch, Ava’s phone erupted from the pocket of her jeans and she drew it out, checking the screen. Debs.
‘Hello,’ she greeted.
‘Bonsoir!’ came Didier’s voice.
‘Oh, wow, I wasn’t expecting that,’ Ava said in reply.
Julien furrowed his brow and tilted his head as if expecting an explanation.
‘Surprise!’ Didier continued.
‘I get that it’s you now,’ Ava answered, backing a step away from Julien.
‘I have good news,’ Didier stated.
‘You do,’ Ava said, almost in a whisper as she bent her head away from Julien.
‘We have a new venue!’ the Frenchman informed.
Straightaway Ava’s heart was singing and she closed her eyes, silently thanking Didier, his friend at the council or whatever Christmas miracle workers had fixed this.
‘We have... I really don’t know what to say,’ Ava stated.
‘You are forever in my debt?’ Didier suggested.
‘Let’s not go too far,’ Ava said. ‘Or perhaps Debs can pay up for me.’
‘We have already talked of this,’ Didier answered.
She could tell he was grinning. ‘Not a word then, like we said.’
‘Absolutement,’ Didier said. ‘Three thousand per cent.’
Ava ended the call and slipped the phone back into her jeans before turning back to Julien. She smiled. ‘Now, where were we?’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I was ruining you and you were pretending to be mad about it.’
‘Oh yes,’ Ava answered. ‘So, for your punishment you must come to dinner with me tonight.’
He shook his head. ‘I regret to tell you this, Madonna, but that is like saying to an alcoholic that he must bathe in red wine.’
‘A restaurant of my choosing,’ she added.
‘O-K,’ he said a little tentatively.
‘And no camera,’ she said.
She watched his fingers curl around the gadget like it was a comfort blanket he could not do without.
‘Sounding a little trickier now?’ she asked.
‘Non,’ he insisted. ‘This can be done.’
She nodded. ‘Good. Right. We had better get some more work done before we lose the atmospheric light completely,’ Ava said, taking the placard from under his arm and heading towards one of the marble statues.
‘Madonna,’ Julien called. ‘You are starting to talk like a photographer. Perhaps all is not lost!’