his parents,” she says. “I want assurances you’ll be in separate rooms when you stay there.”
“We always sleep in separate rooms.”
“Good,” Minnie says. “Because as I told Tony. If he gets you in trouble, he marries you.”
Barbara gulps and looks down at the pile of scones.
“Did you hear me?” Minnie asks.
“Yes, Mum,” Barbara says. “Yes. I heard you.”
2012 - Southwark, London.
Sophie arrives early for her photo shoot. She surreptitiously stacks her equipment in a corner of the cavernous warehouse structure the studio is located in and pulls her Nikon from the bag.
When she reaches the stage, Ralph, who is gay and ripped, (and prettier than most of the models) is busy draping vast white sheets across the backdrop. He hasn’t noticed Sophie, so she silently removes the lens cover and raises the camera to her eye.
Ralph is on a too-small stepladder and is stretching to reach the far corner of the frame. His denim shirt has risen up revealing a tantalising stretch of skin above his low-waisted jeans and he actually has stirrups on his cowboy boots. It’s going to be a sexy shot, Sophie reckons.
Unfortunately, Sophie has forgotten to silence the camera, so the beep of the auto-focus alerts Ralph to her presence.
“Hey, Sophie,” he says, turning and smiling. “What you up to?”
“Shh!” Sophie says. “I’m doing a little photo-réportage.”
Ralph raises the staple gun and fires a shot into the top corner of the sheet. “Cool, well make sure you send me copies.”
“Of course I will,” Sophie says, zooming in on his arse and firing off three more shots. “Nice abs, by the way. I wish my boyfriend had a set of those.”
“Oh, they’re pretty easy to come by,” Ralph says, climbing down. “You just have to abandon any idea of having a social life and spend all your free time at the gym.”
Sophie laughs and then, switching the camera to silent mode as she does so, heads around the back to peer into the make-up room.
Inside, she finds the three models that Now has chosen for today’s shoot. There are two women, the ferocious mixed-race Eddi Day, whom she has worked with before, and a new, skinny, slightly green-tinged blonde creature. The guy is of the stunning-but-dumb looking genre, with thick eyebrows which are so horizontal you could use them as a spirit level. He looks a bit like a young, built Colin Farrell.
Sophie raises the camera and takes a few rear-photos of Butch powdering his nose in the mirror, one of Eddi Day checking her nasal passages, and one of Miss Skinny’s boney hand ripping off a tiny chunk of croissant and putting it to her lips. Judging from her lack of body fat, or indeed body, this is the first bit of nourishment to pass those lips this year.
Silently, Sophie edges into the room. She sees that Butch has now noticed her presence – he grins at her but continues to powder his nose. Sophie hopes that Now won’t be wanting any smiley shots, because his grin is frankly creepy. But he doesn’t say anything, which is good because Sophie knows that as soon as Day spots her presence, this session will be over.
“Did they choose you for that Monsoon shoot in the end?” Day is asking Skinny.
“Nah. They chose some anorexic redhead,” Skinny replies, and Sophie pulls a face as she tries to imagine what a model who Skinny considers anorexic might look like. Auschwitz imagery comes to mind.
Sophie edges along the right hand wall and manages to take a series of photos of the three models all in profile, all peering into their mirrors but with a different face in focus in each shot. If they work, it could make a great triptych.
And then Butch, damn him, says, "So, what are those for?” and Eddi Day turns to face Sophie with one of the most terrifying scowls she has ever seen. No one even imagines that models can look like this, Sophie thinks, managing to snap three more shots as she lowers the camera.
“What the fuck?” Eddi Day
“We always sleep in separate rooms.”
“Good,” Minnie says. “Because as I told Tony. If he gets you in trouble, he marries you.”
Barbara gulps and looks down at the pile of scones.
“Did you hear me?” Minnie asks.
“Yes, Mum,” Barbara says. “Yes. I heard you.”
2012 - Southwark, London.
Sophie arrives early for her photo shoot. She surreptitiously stacks her equipment in a corner of the cavernous warehouse structure the studio is located in and pulls her Nikon from the bag.
When she reaches the stage, Ralph, who is gay and ripped, (and prettier than most of the models) is busy draping vast white sheets across the backdrop. He hasn’t noticed Sophie, so she silently removes the lens cover and raises the camera to her eye.
Ralph is on a too-small stepladder and is stretching to reach the far corner of the frame. His denim shirt has risen up revealing a tantalising stretch of skin above his low-waisted jeans and he actually has stirrups on his cowboy boots. It’s going to be a sexy shot, Sophie reckons.
Unfortunately, Sophie has forgotten to silence the camera, so the beep of the auto-focus alerts Ralph to her presence.
“Hey, Sophie,” he says, turning and smiling. “What you up to?”
“Shh!” Sophie says. “I’m doing a little photo-réportage.”
Ralph raises the staple gun and fires a shot into the top corner of the sheet. “Cool, well make sure you send me copies.”
“Of course I will,” Sophie says, zooming in on his arse and firing off three more shots. “Nice abs, by the way. I wish my boyfriend had a set of those.”
“Oh, they’re pretty easy to come by,” Ralph says, climbing down. “You just have to abandon any idea of having a social life and spend all your free time at the gym.”
Sophie laughs and then, switching the camera to silent mode as she does so, heads around the back to peer into the make-up room.
Inside, she finds the three models that Now has chosen for today’s shoot. There are two women, the ferocious mixed-race Eddi Day, whom she has worked with before, and a new, skinny, slightly green-tinged blonde creature. The guy is of the stunning-but-dumb looking genre, with thick eyebrows which are so horizontal you could use them as a spirit level. He looks a bit like a young, built Colin Farrell.
Sophie raises the camera and takes a few rear-photos of Butch powdering his nose in the mirror, one of Eddi Day checking her nasal passages, and one of Miss Skinny’s boney hand ripping off a tiny chunk of croissant and putting it to her lips. Judging from her lack of body fat, or indeed body, this is the first bit of nourishment to pass those lips this year.
Silently, Sophie edges into the room. She sees that Butch has now noticed her presence – he grins at her but continues to powder his nose. Sophie hopes that Now won’t be wanting any smiley shots, because his grin is frankly creepy. But he doesn’t say anything, which is good because Sophie knows that as soon as Day spots her presence, this session will be over.
“Did they choose you for that Monsoon shoot in the end?” Day is asking Skinny.
“Nah. They chose some anorexic redhead,” Skinny replies, and Sophie pulls a face as she tries to imagine what a model who Skinny considers anorexic might look like. Auschwitz imagery comes to mind.
Sophie edges along the right hand wall and manages to take a series of photos of the three models all in profile, all peering into their mirrors but with a different face in focus in each shot. If they work, it could make a great triptych.
And then Butch, damn him, says, "So, what are those for?” and Eddi Day turns to face Sophie with one of the most terrifying scowls she has ever seen. No one even imagines that models can look like this, Sophie thinks, managing to snap three more shots as she lowers the camera.
“What the fuck?” Eddi Day
Similar Books
