“He’s not a con artist, Mum.” Hattie repeated for the fourth time. “He’s a well-known fashion photographer and he wants to take some pictures of me.”
She tucked the phone under her chin and continued to listen to her mother’s bewilderment while she switched the oven on and extracted a dish of leftover shepherds pie from the fridge.
“But why would he do that, darling?”
She gritted her teeth. Her mother didn’t intend to be cruel. Her confusion was quite genuine. Why should anyone want to take pictures of Hattie? Hattie was the fat daughter, not the pretty one.
“He said he was looking for someone a bit different.”
“Oh, Hattie, he’s not going to make you into some kind of freak show, is he?”
“Mum! I’m not a freak.”
“No, of course not, sweetheart. I didn’t mean that. Just that you’re not, well, normal, are you?”
Counting to ten and praying for strength, she didn’t answer immediately.
“Hattie? Darling, are you still there? You know I didn’t mean anything by it. But you’ve got that job now and I wouldn’t want you to do anything foolish to jeopardise it.”
“I’m taking the rest of my annual leave,” she replied. “So the damn office will still be waiting for me when I get back.”
There was half a bottle of red wine left from the weekend. Hattie found a clean wine glass and poured herself a generous slug. She was going to need it.
“Language, dear,” her mother said automatically. “Well, that’s good. You’ll have a bit of fun, I expect, and then settle back into normal life.”
“With a portfolio from the world’s leading fashion photographer. This could be huge, Mum. This is the break I’ve been waiting for.”
“I’m just saying you shouldn’t get your hopes up, darling. You know that girls like you don’t…”
“Girls like me don’t what, Mum?” She couldn’t help letting a little of her bitterness seep into her voice.
“You know what I mean, sweetheart. You’ve never had good luck with men, have you? Perhaps if you just tried to lose a little bit of weight?”
The doorbell rang. Hattie silently gave thanks. There was only so much of her mother’s thoughtless needling she could bear.
“I have to go now, Mum. There’s someone at the door.”
“Oh, Hattie, you know perfectly well you’ll never slim down while you’re eating takeaways every night.”
“It’s not a takeaway. It’s Tom Metcalfe, actually.” She waved him in, pointing apologetically at the phone in her hand and mouthing an apology.
“The photographer? In your flat? What’s he like? Is he good looking?”
“Mum!” She looked round swiftly hoping that Tom hadn’t heard her mother’s piercing whisper.
“I’m just asking, darling. No need to be like that.”
“Huh.”
“Anyway, be careful, darling. Remember what happened with Alex.”
She turned away from Tom, instinctively hiding her face from his keen gaze. “I’m not likely to forget, Mum.”
There was a brief pause at the other end of the phone. “No, I suppose not. I just don’t want you to go through that again.”
YOU ARE READING
Lying for the Camera
DragosteHattie Bell is gorgeous. Every inch of her voluptuous figure is worth looking at, and she knows it. Determined to prove to the world that she has what it takes to be a model, she rushes away early from her tedious office job to get to a casting at T...
