Page 2 of The Typo

‘Sounds about right.’ I smiled. ‘These two have certainly landed on their paws, best billet in town.’

Mr McTavish’s expression softened. ‘They don’t appreciate how lucky they are, that’s for sure. I’m glad I caught you actually. I’m going to be away for a few days at the beginning of next week and I was wondering if you could keep an eye on the felines? They don’t need much looking after. In fact, I often think they look after me, rather than the opposite.’ He cleared his throat, as if surprised by the admission he’d made. ‘Anyway, would you mind? Do you need to check your commitments and come back to me?’

‘It won’t be a problem, I promise,’ I said. I didn’t need to look at my calendar to know that I’d be free. Besides, I was touched that he’d asked me, and pleased to feel needed for once. ‘I’m happy to help, any time. Seriously, any time at all.’

‘Good, good.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Well, I’ve kept you from your meal long enough. It will be getting cold by now. Come, Eliza, come, Fraser, let’s leave the young woman to enjoy her food in peace.’

‘Have you eaten yet?’ I found myself saying. ‘Only I ordered a large pizza because it was on special offer but there’s no way I’ll get through it all by myself. I was going to keep some in the fridge for lunch tomorrow but it’s always better eaten fresh.’ I took a breath and told myself to get to the point rather than rambling on like someone who’d forgotten how to string a proper sentence together. ‘What I’m trying to say is, would you like to share it with me? An impromptu top-floor social, if you will.’

Mr McTavish looked surprised, as well he might. As neighbours we’d never really graduated beyond the occasional superficial exchange about the cats or what day the bin men were due. When I’d first moved in, I’d spend more hours dashing around the city centre having fun than at home, and in more recent times, I seemed to have unwillingly developed the ability to fade into my surroundings. In other words, I’d long ago missed the window of opportunity for us to have the kind of relationship where me suggesting a spontaneous pizza party was anything but weird.

He tilted his head to one side as if hearing an imaginary phone ringing back in his flat, tactfully preparing me for the rejection which I knew was about to come. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I have dinner plans in town. In fact, I really must be getting myself sorted. I’ll drop a note through your letterbox over the weekend with a spare key and the cats’ list of demands. Thank you for agreeing to help me, I appreciate it. Have a pleasant evening, and enjoy your pizza.’

And with that, he was gone, taking his furry companions with him. I scurried into my flat, dumped the pizza box on the work surface and held my hands up to my cheeks, wondering if they appeared as hot as they felt. Did Mr McTavish really have plans, or had it been a polite way of excusing himself from the unwelcome invitation from the stranger across the hall? I analysed the exchange, trying not to cringe at how I’d given myself away. Now my elderly neighbour would be pitying me for my lack of a life, just like my colleagues already were. Was I the only person in Edinburgh sitting alone at home tonight? Suddenly the pizza didn’t seem quite so tempting. I left it on the side, and slumped onto the sofa, ready to indulge in some social media distraction instead. At least there was plenty of company in the virtual world, even if certain platforms felt like an increasingly angry space nowadays.

And that’s when I noticed the email.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 13 Jan, 17:19

Subject: Your work

Hello,

My name is Pixie Packwood, and I’m the proprietor of the Packwood Gallery in London. We specialise in photographic art, with an emphasis on work which celebrates interesting landscapes and unusual wildlife. Each year we hold an exhibition highlighting an up-and-coming photographer, and I was hoping you would like to submit a portfolio for consideration. Naturally there is a selection process, but I claim proprietor’s privilege in being able to make the occasional unsolicited approach to an artist I am particularly keen to encourage to throw their hat into the ring. If you are interested, please click on the link below to submit your portfolio.

www.submit.packfordgallery.org.uk

The closing date for applications is the 14th of February.

Kind regards,

Pixie Packwood

Pixie Packwood might be an admirer of this person’s work, but unfortunately she wasn’t a big enough fan to have got his or her email address correct. I hit reply and typed out a quick message explaining that the invitation had been sent to the wrong person. But within seconds, my inbox pinged with a delivery fail notice. I tried clicking on the link provided and explored the Packwood Gallery website further, eventually finding a generic ‘Contact us’ button hidden at the bottom of one of the pages. But when I tried clicking on that, a ‘This page no longer exists’ alert popped up on the screen. This was a potentially career-changing opportunity. What if all that stood between a talented photographer and their greatest wish was Pixie Packwood’s typo when sending her email? Or worse, my own failure to do something about it? I thought about how I would have felt receiving an email like this back in the days when pursuing my own dreams seemed like a worthwhile ambition. It could have made all the difference to me. Things hadn’t worked out for me the way I’d imagined, but it didn’t mean that that had to be the case for this person.

I clicked onto the internet browser and typed ‘A Cameron photographer’ into Google. Naturally about a gazillion random results appeared. I sighed, wondering how on earth I was going to find the right Cameron. I quickly reread the email and noticed that Pixie Packwood had specifically mentioned landscapes and wildlife photography. That helped narrow down the options. I carried on scrolling through them, and there, on page three of the search results, which as anyone in marketing knows might as well be page three hundred, I found him. Or rather, I found a photograph of a murmuration of starlings which had a watermark attributing it to one ‘Cameron A’. This had to be the guy.

The picture was almost unreal, a giant soundwave silhouetted against the backdrop of a blushing sunset, an utterly captivating sight. Although the birds were frozen in time, something about the composition of the photograph conveyed a sense of their movement, and I wondered what it must have been like to stand there and have one of nature’s most amazing dances playing out in front of you. I zoomed in on the image to get a closer look at the individual starlings which created the mesmerising spectacle, marvelling at the delicate white spots standing out among their sleek brown plumage. I scrolled down to read the brief caption which must have been attached to the article the image originally appeared in. It said, ‘Cameron specialises in wildlife photography and has a particular interest in ornithology. He visited this site in Mersea for three nights in a row to photograph the starlings, and told us this was his favourite frame from the thousands he took because it reflected the joyful noise the birds were making.’ And then in even smaller font, ‘For image licensing requests, contact [email protected]’

I was no artist, but I could tell that this man had a talent that deserved recognition. It was worth a try. Hoping that the email address was indeed the one I was looking for, I started typing.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 13 Jan, 20:47

Subject: Fwd: Your work

Hi Cameron,

Forgive the random email. My name’s Amy Cameron (A.Cameron) and I’ve received an email which I believe was meant for you (Cameron.A) – see below. It sounds like a really good opportunity. Well, I’m saying that as a layperson who doesn’t have the first clue about photography, but even so, I reckon having your own exhibition is one of those game-changer moments. Anyway, I hope your work gets chosen to go on display in the Packwood Gallery, if that’s what you want. Maybe you could let me know? If you wish, of course, no pressure!

All the best,

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