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‘I’m not being nice. I’m being truthful.’ H
e studied her expression. ‘Surely you can see how good they are.’
‘Honestly? No, I can’t. All I can see is what I may have done wrong, wrong perspective, angle, feel, colour... I’m terrified to show them to Samar. I don’t even want to show you anything I’ve done for the campaign. I think I’m just all ideas—all snap-snap-snap, all mouth and no follow through.’
Their conversation on the plane came back to him, her conviction that her metier was fashion photography and she didn’t have the talent or ability to move into a different sphere.
‘Look, I know I am not an expert, but I don’t need to be—I am the target audience. I promise those photos will appeal to anyone looking at Samar’s website. But I believe they are worth more even that that—I think you could do a photo documentary on Jalpura. On the life on this island. You said yourself it is a fascinating place—an independent Indian island with a royal family.’
‘I told you—’
‘I know what you told me, and I profoundly disagree.’ He eyed her closely. ‘What expert told you that you don’t have what it takes?’
She hesitated, then, ‘Howard.’
For one incredulous moment he stared at her. ‘Your ex-husband.’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes narrowed at his expression. ‘But he wasn’t my ex when he told me. It’s how we met—he agreed to do a critique, an assessment of my work. He told me the truth. He didn’t have to—he could have strung me along because he wanted to date me, but he didn’t. And the points made sense.’
‘Perhaps he believed what he said, but that doesn’t mean he is right.’
Emily looked at him. ‘He is a globally renowned photographer. He’s won every award there is.’
Luca waved his hand. ‘That still doesn’t make him infallible and you can’t trust that his opinion wasn’t coloured by his relationship with you.’
‘I get that, and I spent months trying to prove him wrong. In the end I gave up my career to be his assistant because I hoped I’d learn from him.’
‘And did you?’
‘No.’ Her voice was small now. ‘He tried but it was frustrating for him. To be fair to him he genuinely saw fashion as an inferior branch of photography, something frothy and frivolous, so to him my work was...not very important.’
‘But what you do is part of a billion-dollar industry.’
‘Howard doesn’t care about money. And I can’t blame him for criticising my work. It was full of flaws, in my technique, the angles, the light. Sometimes he’d take a picture of the same thing I had and he’d point out the differences.’
Anger began to rise in Luca, but he kept his voice even. ‘Just out of interest, did he ever say anything positive?’
‘Of course.’
‘Let me guess—it was always followed by a “but” or was a backhanded compliment.’
Luca forced himself not to rise and pace. ‘It sounds like he wanted to undermine you, and it sounds to me like his voice is still in your head.’
‘Of course, it isn’t. Or at least not in a bad way. I’d be a fool to discount his opinion on photography.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. I am not dissing Howard’s talents, but I do think his perspective was warped by your relationship.’ Plus the man sounded like a bully and he suspected Emily’s marriage had been marred by a bullying she wasn’t even aware of. Because she was so star-struck by the man’s talent she believed his words to be gospel. But it explained her fear of showing her work, the way she expected criticism, the fact she still had Howard’s words in her head. Just as the taunts of those schoolyard bullies had echoed in his.
‘Perhaps.’ Emily shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter.’ She rose to her feet. ‘Shall we walk?’
‘Sure.’ He followed suit, looked down at the sudden pinched look on her face and he knew it did matter, that he had to try and convince her that Howard was wrong. ‘We can talk whilst we walk.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AS THEY STARTED to walk the thronged noisy streets, redolent with the scent of spices and rich with the sound of chatter, the honk of horns and the cries of street vendors hawking their wares, Emily considered Luca’s words, wondered if he could be right. When she’d taken the pictures at the farm it had felt...‘right’. As she’d snapped she’d felt in the zone, as if everything had come together.
It was only when it came to showing them to Luca that doubt had assailed her and she’d prepared herself to be put down. But that wasn’t down to Luca, that was down to her—she’d grown to assume and believe negativity from Howard, not just on her work, but on everything. She had been sure during their marriage that he had become more and more judgemental because of her inability to learn from him. That that inability had made him see only her flaws and not the things that had presumably made him marry her in the first place.
But how could she question whether he was right? He was Howard McAllister.
