“Pleased you got involved now?” he asked.
“I can’t believe that’s me,” said Mikey, scratching his head.
“Definitely one to show the grandkids.”
Jenny went through more. Dennis Abraham, the plasterer, his flawless polished walnut skin contrasting amazingly with the roughly plastered and whitewashed wall behind. Mel—Melchior Slubowski—landscape gardener, with his almost bleached ivory skin but lean, muscled body pushing a lawnmower set against the verdant greenery of a beautifully trimmed garden. Even George Collier, Bob’s son and now the village postman, who could do with losing a couple of pounds, had been captured brilliantly in another comic pose, lying facing the camera on a conveyor belt with parcels and packages, a postman’s hat on and a heart-shaped package covering his vitals.
A couple of others were not only stunning but also noteworthy, such as the identical twins Carlton and Jaden Dillon, painters and decorators, and their wallpapering shot. Carlton stood to the left of the shot facing the camera, behind a wallpapering table which stopped just above his groin, a pasting brush in one hand, but had been caught turning and laughing at something his brother had said. Jaden perched halfway up a short stepladder, one leg raised to the top step, wholly naked but facing the wall, about to hang a sheet of paper, twisting to look at his brother, caught mid-laugh. Neither had gym-wrought bodies, but the shot was perfect. Not only had Jenny captured the lads’ humour, but she’d showcased their incredible skin tones and the likeness between the two handsome younger men.
Jenny went on to describe other scenes briefly, unable to show them because consent forms had yet to be completed. Shots such as Benny Cheung, the mechanic, who had been worried about being photographed with Ken, and Gupta Mahtani, who had stalled a couple of times about whether to participate, fearing the publicity might hurt his professional career until his daughter had all but threatened him. Nathan noticed Jenny hadn’t shown his photographs yet and wondered whether she had decided they were not needed.
Until the next slide lit up the screen, and Polly let out a gasp.
Jenny projected the one where Nathan had started to get a hard-on and had rolled onto his stomach to glare at Jaymes. Except the overall effect came off as something entirely different. Even if he did say so himself, Nathan’s backside had been captured perfectly, his football-socked feet crossed at the ankles of his long legs, a slight dusting of hair visible on his nicely defined chest. But the stare—or perhaps carnal glare would be a better expression—was nothing short of incendiary. Technically, everything about the shot appeared perfect—the focus, the detail, the tones and the lighting.
“I’m rather proud of this one,” said Jenny.
“God, Nathan!” said Polly before thrusting a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, Father Mulligan. I was going to comment on your amazing bum, but that stare is nothing short of obscene. Thermonuclear. What lucky so-and-so was on the receiving end?”
“What did I tell you,” said Jenny, smiling, satisfied, at Nathan. She had taken great pains to impress upon him how people zeroed in on faces before bodies.
“It’s not actually what your gutter mind is thinking. I was giving your cousin the stink eye because he was misbehaving. As usual.”
In the semidarkness of the room, Nathan sensed Polly’s gaze land on him.
“I have to come clean, Nathan,” said Jenny. “I showed a couple of your shots to a press friend of mine. He’s always looking for good local stories and wanted to know if his news outlet could do an article on the village calendar. Arlene knows and loves the idea, but I’d need your consent. He’d want to use this picture or one of the others I took of you. But there would be amazing publicity, not just for the fête, but for your shop.”
“Who is it?”
“FreshPost.”
“Isn’t that an American publication?” asked Polly. “Why on earth would they be interested in us?”
“They’re more international these days,” said Jenny. Nathan noticed Arlene had said nothing and had allowed Jenny to do all the talking. “But they love local interest stories. The bread and butter of modern-day media.”
“I don’t see why not,” said Nathan, shrugging.
“Don’t you?” said Polly. “With shots like these, darling, you’re likely to end up being asked to do movies.”
Mikey choked back a laugh until Polly elbowed him in the ribs.
“Not those kinds of movies, perv,” she said before her attention shifted back to Jenny. “Why can’t we use our local newspaper? Wouldn’t that be more appropriate?”
“And we will,” said Arlene. “Before anything else. But wouldn’t it be good to entice people from farther afield to come to our little festival?”
Nobody could argue with that. Jenny even offered to talk to Katherine Cheung and provide a couple of sample shots for the paper. Arlene then went on to show them the three-dimensional model of the fête on the screen, which everyone found startlingly realistic, even though most model stalls bore no particular detail. Those watching followed a virtual tour of the village green, past the first stall where Nathan would set up, around the small fairground in the centre of the green, past Mikey’s booth, the newsagent and confectioner, Doris’ florist, the shoe shop and the haberdashery, all interspersed with fun items such as hoopla stalls and coconut shies. The virtual model appeared professionally designed, and at the end of the presentation everyone applauded, even Polly. For all her pushiness, Arlene had done an incredible job. Once the lights came back on, she stood to address them all.
“I have a number of investors onboard, including Shawbanks, Radleigh and Posner, and a few more irons in the fire, but I’m sure once they’re aware of the calendar, the celebrity hosts and other surprises we have in store, many more will commit. As for the calendar, we’re considering a retail price of fourteen-ninety-nine, which, as long as we sell the minimum five hundred, will give us a clear profit of ten pounds per calendar, so five thousand pounds, already twice the amount we raised from last year’s fête. Officially, the calendar launch will be in the first week of June, here in the village hall, with all the players signing copies and, of course, Jenny explaining her concept. We’re expecting to have a number of members of the press in attendance. I’m trying to get Clifton O’Keefe to be here, too. With the extra numbers, we’ll need to lay on more canapés, bubbles and cocktails for the event. Fortunately, a friend of mine is a caterer. But it’s almost nine-thirty, so I think that’s enough for one night. Once again, a big thanks to Jenny for her superb work.”
Among the small group, everyone gave a polite round of applause.
“And I must add, Arlene, you’ve outdone yourself. You were right all along. This event needed an injection of new ideas,” said Father Mulligan. Even Polly nodded her approval, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Hear, hear,” said Nathan, just as his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Jay: How’s it going?
Nathan grinned down at the display. Every time Jaymes’ name popped up on his screen a smile lit his face and his mood brightened. He quickly thumbed a response.
