Pictures of You

Chapter Two: Philip Michael Lester

Phil grew up on the estate, however he was not the child of a full time servant, but the youngest son of who knows what generation of The Family. Phil had a fairly sombre childhood, never allowed out, bound by so many rules of etiquette and properness that he could barely breathe without worrying he was doing it wrong. It's not to say that his parents treated him wrongly, they didn't at all, they were just cold due to the prim and proper nature their relationship held. Phil was starved of physical affection, however they showered him in material gifts to try and make him happy. 

Toys upon toys piled high in a wardrobe that sat mostly unopened, little toy cars, rocking horses, colouring books and pencils, learning games, and Phil's favourite toys; costumes. They allowed for Phil to escape the confines of these four walls, if it only be in his head. Phil would spend hours preparing his costume, painting his face, digging out wigs, and then when he was done he'd run around the house acting out any crazy adventure or story he could think of. 

The only thing he thought would make it better would be if he had someone else to play with. He had an older brother named Martyn, but they didn't really play, they didn't even talk . Martyn had duties around the house and didn't have the time to sit and play with his little brother, far too wrapped up in the important details of running a stately home.

Phil had a tutor, named Mavis, who he would see every day and spend hours with reading classics, or learning Latin, or solving equations. Phil enjoyed education, but he wasn't enamoured, it was more of a chore which took him away from the things that he would really want to be doing, like walking the grounds and taking photos on his film camera.

Phil had a passion for photography, he loved to capture a moment in eternal ink before it faded away into the sea of forgotten seconds. He liked landscapes, but his real fascination lay with people. The way people's faces moved and portrayed their deepest emotions with simple movements of muscles was so incredibly interesting to Phil. He liked candid shots the best, people couldn't mould themselves like clay when they didn't know they were being watched. He believed candid shots are when we are at our most genuine, our most honest.

 He would often wander down to the kitchen, camera dangling from his neck, and hide behind pans stood tall on work tops, leaning around them when the head chef wasn't looking and snap photos of her running her stumpy fingers through her slightly greying mop of ginger hair; or he would sit and watch the ladies as they had their break and wait until one of them said something particularly hilarious, causing all the women to throw their heads back in joy, or some forwards, to hit the table or grip at their sides. 

These moments where when Phil saw the most joy, and he yearned for it so badly in his own life. He knew that if the ladies knew he was there they wouldn't be themselves, they'd laugh out of obligation, but they wouldn't howl and cackle so uncontrollably like Phil knew they always did.

Sometimes Phil's walks would take him to the servants quarters and he'd sit and watch them hurry about like soldier ants trying to please their queen. However he enjoyed watching them the most in the evening when they didn't have to rush around for the benefit of others, of him. 

Women would sit in their doorways wearing billowing black skirts with aprons covering them from midriff to ankles, smoking, talking, enjoying the little time they got to themselves. They didn't know he was there because he was concealed by thick shrubbery enough to hide him, but not enough to obscure his view. Sometimes men would arrive, fall down next to the women and embrace them, maybe place a kiss on the side of their heads and exchange quick words before they had to leave, fearing they'd be caught by the Observers. 

Only courting or married men and women were allowed to be together. This always made Phil scoff, were they not aware that not everyone is straight? The rules of his nation baffled him most of the time and he honestly didn't understand why his family still imposed them. He didn't even know if the people were happy, what with him never being able to leave the grounds of The Estate. 

He couldn't even ask the staff because they had strict instructions to only speak when spoken to, and when spoken to they are only allowed to talk about trivial subjects such as whats for dinner, or how nice the weather is. Sometimes Phil felt so lonely in this house full of people, like a ghost waiting for somebody to finally catch sight of him.