laugh of hers that made him feel the pure joy he remembered from being a kid, the way she smelled of warm sugar and baby oil, the swell of her breasts beneath her light cotton dress—Jimmy shifted his head with frustration, and concentrated on a noisy gull as it flew low overhead towards the sea.
The horizon was a faultless blue, the breeze was light, and the smell of summer was everywhere. He sighed and with it let the whole thing drift away—the silver dress, the policeman, the embarrassment he’d felt at being cast as some sort of danger to her. There was no point. The day was too perfect to argue, and no harm had come of it anyway, not really. No harm ever did. Dolly’s games of ‘let’s pretend’ confused him, he didn’t understand the urge she had to make believe and he didn’t especially like it, but it made her happy so Jimmy went along with it.
As if to prove to Dolly that he’d put the whole thing behind him, Jimmy sat up suddenly and dug out his faithful Brownie from his haversack. ‘How about a picture?’ he said, winding on the spool of film. ‘A little memento of your seaside rendezvous, Miss Smitham?’ She perked up, just as he’d hoped she would—Dolly loved having her photograph taken—and Jimmy glanced about for the sun’s position. He walked to the far side of the small field in which they’d had their picnic.
Dolly had pushed herself to sitting and was stretching like a cat. ‘Like this?’ she said. Her cheeks were flushed from the sun, and her bow lips plump and red from the strawberries he’d bought at a roadside stall.
‘Perfect,’ he said, and she really was. ‘Nice light.’
‘And what exactly would you like me to do in the nice light?’
Jimmy rubbed his chin and pretended to consider this deeply. ‘What do I want you to do? Answer carefully now, Jimmy boy, this is your chance, don’t blow it … Think damn it, think …’
Dolly laughed and he did too. And then he scratched his head and said, ‘I want you to be you, Doll. I want to remember today exactly as it is. If I can’t see you for another ten days, at least I can carry you round in my pocket.’
She smiled, a small enigmatic twitch of the lips, and then nodded. ‘Something to remember me by.’
‘Exactly,’ he called. ‘Won’t be a minute now, I’ll just fix the settings.’ He dropped down the Diway lens and, because the sunshine was so bright, pulled up the lever for a smaller aperture. Better to be safe than sorry. By the same token, he took the lens cloth from his pocket and gave the glass a good rub.
‘All right,’ he said, closing one eye and looking down into the viewfinder. ‘We’re read—’ Jimmy fumbled the camera box, but he didn’t dare look up.
Dolly was staring at him from the middle of the viewfinder. Her chestnut-coloured hair fell in wind-loosened waves that kissed her neck, but beneath it she’d unbuttoned her dress and slipped it from her shoulders.
Without taking her eyes from the camera she started peeling the strap of her bathing suit slowly down her arm.
Christ. Jimmy swallowed. He should say something; he knew he should say something. Make a joke, be witty, be clever. But in the face of Dolly, sitting there like that, her chin lifted, her eyes issuing him a challenge, the curve of her breast exposed—well, nineteen years of speech evaporated in an instant. Without his wit to help him, Jimmy did the one thing he could always rely on. He took his shot.
‘Just make sure you develop them yourself,’ said Dolly, buttoning up her dress with trembling fingers. Her heart was racing and she felt bright and alive, strangely powerful. Her own daring, the look on his face when he’d seen her, the way he was still having trouble meeting her eyes without blushing—it was intoxicating, all of it. More than that, it was proof. Proof that she, Dorothy Smitham, was exceptional, just as Dr Rufus had said. She wasn’t destined for the bicycle factory, of course she wasn’t; her life was going to be extraordinary.
‘You think I’d let any other man see you that way?’ said Jim-my, paying extravagant attention to the straps of his camera.
‘Not on purpose.’
‘I’d kill him first.’ He said it softly, and his voice cracked slightly under a burden of possession that made Dolly swoon. She wondered if he would. Did