The Photographer

(14) The not so mysterious buyer

He rinsed himself off and turned to face her. Grasping her chin with his fingers, he gave her a light kiss, "don't worry so much, everyone will love your work!"

As he got out of the shower, she stepped under the warm water and began to wet her hair.

"It's a shame that Seb can't come," he said as he grabbed a towel.

She tried to sound as casual as possible as she replied, "he said he had a filming commitment that he just couldn't get out of."

"Where did you say it was?"

"Canada." That wasn't a total lie; Seb had left the circuit as soon as he could following the end of the race yesterday and according to one of his pit crew, had been seen leaving with Lance Stroll and his father, Lawrence. The rumour was that he was flying out to Canada to start talking about next year's contract and take a couple of days break at the same time. In reality, he was most likely flying as far away from herself as he could, needing to take some time alone after she'd broken his heart. She'd broken both of their hearts, her own included which still lay with him but with Ben joining her in Monaco she hoped that she'd be able to heal, that they'd both be able to get over whatever this had been between them.

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"Amazing," Ben murmured appreciatively as they made their way around her section of the exhibition. "Look at all the people babe, they love your work."

Iris held her black clutch bag tightly in her hands, holding it in front of her like a protective shield. There were so many people here, more than she'd expected and it was making her feel even more nervous.

A waiter stopped next to Ben with a tray filled with glasses of champagne and he took two, immediately passing one to his wife, "here, you deserve it."

"Thanks," she took the glass from him and took a sip. She started looking around the large room again. It was a small art gallery based on the riverside of the Thames, all bright white walls and metal, industrial pillars. The front of the building faced the street, while the back faced the river where the dockside was still undeveloped and still had an old, rusting dock crane stood on it. The crane provided a barely useful amount of shelter when it rained, like today, and was also a popular little spot for smokers.

"Iris?"

She turned around to the sound of a familiar woman's voice, "Victoria!" She'd never been so pleased to see someone she knew and embraced the older, grey haired woman as much as she could with her bag in one hand and a glass in the other.

"I'd heard about your exhibition and I couldn't resist coming along, how are you doing?" Victoria stepped back and regarded Iris carefully, for a while she'd been Iris's therapist.

She didn't want to worry Ben but with her set back in Feltham and her feelings for Seb, as well as the night she'd spent with him, she knew that she'd have to see Victoria again soon. But for now, she lied, "I'm great, really good."

Victoria wasn't stupid, she could see straight through Iris's fake smile and gently took her by the elbow using the photos as an excuse, "come with me, I'd like to know about this picture in particular," she pointed towards a black and white photo of a homeless man.

"Oh, this one," Iris was quite surprised, as daft as it sounded she hadn't expected to be asked about the subjects in her images, "well, it's quite sad actually...."

"How are you really, Iris?" Victoria cut her off.

"I need to see you but it's finding the time," she admitted, glancing cautiously to where Ben was now talking to someone, "we're flying out to Monaco on Wednesday for the race."