If we’re going to make meaningful change in our society then we can’t keep on turning the other cheek.’
‘What do you hope to achieve with this exhibition?’
‘To spark a dialogue. I hope this show can help turn a conversation into a political and social agenda. Also, I want to raise a ton of money. I’ve waived my fee for this project and all profits will go directly to the Nest women’s shelter.’
‘Everyone knows your famous images that won the Pulitzer back in 2015, just as you retired from the war reporting scene. Do you feel that documenting and shining a spotlight on hard-hitting social issues, rather than political ones, will be your new métier?’
Lee shrugged. ‘I don’t have an agenda as such. Like anyone else, I have bills to pay, so I can’t always and only shoot material that appeals to me personally. But I do know that, as a pack race, humans have to see in order to believe and that imbues photographers with both a power and a responsibility to use their craft wisely. Photographs have the power to change the world – they can spark a protest, a riot, a revolution. It is the truth in photography that keeps us all connected, keeps us accountable—’
‘Lee, your champagne!’ Bart yelled, reaching over the heads of the crowd to pass the flutes over for her and Mila.
‘Oh, that was well timed,’ Lee deadpanned, looking back at the reporter. ‘Do you want me to say that last bit again?’
Rosa chuckled. ‘No, I think we’ve got it, that was great, Lee,’ she said, turning off her recorder and shaking Lee’s hand, her professional duties now completed. From the way her eyes kept boomeranging back to the photogenic crowd, it was clear she was about to make use of the free bar. ‘Thanks, we’ll let you know when it goes up.’
‘But you’ll edit that bit, right?’ Lee asked as Rosa began to wander off. ‘These are important issues. I don’t want to come across as some champagne socialist.’
‘I don’t think anyone could ever accuse you of that!’ Rosa laughed again over her shoulder.
Lee felt a tap on her own shoulder. She turned, feeling overwhelmed. So much was happening, and so many people . . .
‘This is quite the party. I’m honoured to have made the cut.’ Matteo Hofhuis grinned at her, leaning in closer, his breath hot against her neck. ‘Although you didn’t need to get your assistant to call me, you know.’ He kissed her on the lips; with his eyes open, it was little more than a peck, yet it was also, clearly, a privilege that would have been afforded only to an intimate. It made a statement to anyone looking on.
‘Matt,’ she faltered. It was only a week since their shoot – their night together – but his shaved head was already completely covered by a dark fuzz, his blue eyes looking especially bright tonight. He was beautiful – conceited, but beautiful. ‘You made it.’
‘And I’m so glad I did. I can’t take my eyes off you in that dress. You look stunning.’
‘What, this old thing?’ She held up an arm, regarding the frilled cuff with a quizzical bemusement.
He laughed, seeming to understand she hadn’t chosen it. She took a sip of her drink as they looked at each other and she remembered the momentary buzz of their connection, ignited through the lens. It had been a fun night and just what she’d needed – mindless sex, a brief escape from her responsibilities, a sprint out of the clutches of her past – especially after Cunningham had turned up unexpectedly only hours before.
From the way Matt was smiling at her, it was clear he was keen for a rerun. Would it be such a bad thing, she wondered, breaking her cardinal rule of never going back? If nothing else, her ego could do with the boost. Sam’s unequivocal rejection had left her reeling, far more than she might have expected, and things had hardly been helped by having him turn up on her set the very next day, like some sort of karmic sick joke.
She had never wrapped up a shoot so quickly. They’d been done within ninety minutes, and where she usually took two hundred shots in a session, she’d taken less than thirty. Somehow, in spite of the barbed-wire-topped walls between them, she had been able to read him, to get what she needed. She remembered how he had tried to talk to her afterwards, how she