Burning Bright

Chapter 8

I fixed the smile on my face. ‘Mr Patel, how lovely to see you,’ I lied.

‘Miss Curran. I see you are here with the prisoner. Is that wise?’ A sly smile stretched across his round sweaty face, a drip pausing on the neatly trimmed moustache before rolling over both his chins, down his neck and into the collar of his shirt.

‘He’s on bail, Mr Patel. The magistrate has approved this.’

‘And the Colonel?’

‘Well, as he’s on leave . . .’ and I maintained the smile.

‘Enjoy the falls, Miss Curran.’

‘Thank you, Mr Patel.’

Eoin waited until he’d disappeared out of sight before approaching me. ‘You don’t like him, do you?’

‘You could tell?’

‘You’re not a very good actress,’ he said with a smile, sitting down next to me.

‘And what would you know?’ There was a pause where I reassessed my comment, and I started to laugh. ‘Oh. I suppose quite a lot. I keep forgetting you’re an actor.’

‘What do you think of me as?’

‘A fixture and fitting in the flat. And a Tiger Saviour.’

‘Actually, I don’t mind either of those. Kate, can I take some photos of you?’

‘Me?’

‘Not to publish anywhere. But it would be nice to have some pics of you. I’d still be in there if you hadn’t gone out on a limb for me. Talking of which, could you sit on that branch there? I want to get some bokeh from the sunlight on the spray.’

‘Some whateh?’

‘Bokeh. It’s a kind of background sparkle. I’ll show you when I process the photos.’

He was good at explaining what he wanted from me, although I felt rather exposed (to use one of the few photography terms I knew) sitting on a branch with the falls behind me. But I could see him change from looking at me, to looking at me through the lens of his camera, total concentration, the occasional moves of position as by him, or as instructed by him, taking time over each shot. I was definitely more of a “Point and Shoot and be grateful I captured anything” sort of person.

‘Your turn,’ I said as he straightened, and I removed my simple camera from my backpack. I could see him drop naturally into a pose, turning his head to just the perfect angle, the hint of a smile I’d seen in many of his photos on-line. Not what I wanted at all. ‘No, no, no,’ I said. ‘I don’t want a photo of Eoin Macken “Singer, dancer, actor, model” or however you describe yourself, I want Eoin Macken “Fixture and fitting and Tiger Saviour”.’

He was laughing and I took a few shots. ‘Believe me, I definitely can’t sing, ask anyone. And my dancing isn’t up to much.’

I stopped to let someone through on the path between us.

‘Would you like me to take a photo of the two of you?’ the girl asked.

‘Yes, OK,’ I said as Eoin nodded his consent. He joined me on my branch and the girl took a couple of shots of us, Eoin’s arm around my waist. I knew Eoin would look gorgeous and I would look pink and shiny. I wasn’t wrong, but they weren’t bad photos of me, although anyone who saw them would be looking at Eoin anyway.

It was as we were heading back down the hillside that he asked me about Mr Patel.

‘He works at the DHC.’