Page 61 of The Typo

His expression of shy delight as he told of his success made my heart sing.

‘That’s fantastic! So you got it? Even though you were up against the great Arlo Cameron?’

‘I did, thanks to you. I heard yesterday while I was on my way here. I’m still taking it all in, to be honest. I’m so glad you gave me the kick I needed to chase my dream.’

‘I cut the wrong slice, and I looked over and figured you guys could do with it. I can tell a heavy conversation a mile off,’ said the waitress, suddenly materialising at our side and depositing a plate with a large slice of carrot cake on the table. ‘Besides, if you’re going to sit by the window, I’d rather you were tucking into some grub too. It’s free advertising. Enjoy.’ She winked and hurried back to the counter.

Cameron caught my eye and we both laughed.

‘Free cake, what’s not to like?’ he said.

‘This is where we really get to know each other,’ I said, grinning back at him. ‘The true test—can we share a slice of cake fairly between us?’

It turned out we could, each of us taking a forkful until there was nothing left.

‘I think that test was passed successfully,’ said Cameron, a cake crumb resting tantalising on the corner of his lips. I reached out and gently stole it.

‘Yum,’ I said, enjoying the warmth in his gaze. ‘I agree. So, the next important question is, when is this show of yours?’

‘The 23rd of May. And I was very much hoping you’d agree to be my date. I can’t imagine being there without you.’

I smiled back at him. ‘I’d love to.’

Epilogue

23RD MAY

The Packwood Gallery in central London was extremely fancy. Judging by the very stylish people milling around, this was a place to see and be seen. But I had eyes only for one person, who was standing by my side nervously waiting for my verdict. Nobody else would have been able to tell he was nervous, of course. He looked every inch the confident artist. But I could tell from the way he was gripping my hand that he needed my reassurance. I stroked my thumb against his palm, and felt his pulse quicken in response.

‘That wasn’t quite the effect I was going for,’ I said, soft enough so that only he could hear it.

‘What can I say? I’m putty in your hands,’ he replied, in a whisper designed to distract me.

I kissed his palm and then forced my attention back to the reason we were here.

‘I’ve called it “Messages home”,’ Cameron said, his gaze fixed on my face as I turned slowly on the spot to take in the exhibition around me. I’d expected the vast Antarctic landscapes and the pictures of the wildlife that live there, serried ranks of penguins silhouetted against the snow, leopard seals snoozing lazily on mint green glaciers. But what I hadn’t expected was the close-up of the lonely post box, or the picture of an ancient computer among high tech navigation devices, an email slowly downloading onto the screen, or the photo of initials carved out in the snow. AC and CA. Just those initials in the foreground, while in the distance, red-jacketed visitors had a snowball fight. Striking images telling their own powerful story.

‘“Messages home”,’ I repeated. ‘Cameron, it’s … beautiful.’ The word didn’t do justice to the emotion the exhibition provoked in me, this celebration of a connection made through words alone across thousands of miles.

‘If you hadn’t forwarded me that email, none of this would have been possible,’ he said. I knew he was talking about so much more than the exhibition.

‘The last few months have opened my eyes to all kinds of possibilities,’ I said. ‘Speaking of which, I was thinking of taking a sabbatical. You know Ian’s been on the charm offensive ever since he saw the box office receipts for the Cellar Bar and begged me not to quit. It’s been good to have the Edinburgh Variety as a safety net while I’ve been building up the music work, but it’s time to spread my wings and try something new.’

‘What were you thinking of doing?’ asked Cameron.

‘I spotted an advert for a musician on an expedition ship heading to the Arctic and cruising around Svalbard later this summer. Nothing too challenging, just playing in the bar after dinner, and a couple of informal concerts per voyage. I thought I might have a go.’

‘It sounds like an amazing opportunity,’ said Cameron. ‘You should definitely go for it.’

He didn’t even hesitate before offering his backing. His enthusiastic belief in me was one of the many reasons I was falling in love with him. I didn’t need his endorsement, but it meant a lot to me that he was supportive of the idea.

‘I’ve had a preliminary chat with them, there’s nothing signed off, but they sounded pretty positive.’ I paused and linked my fingers between his, pulling him towards me, and lowering my voice so that he had to lean closer to me to hear what I was saying. ‘It’s a new ship so they’ve got a lot of positions to fill. They’re looking for a ship’s photographer too. I told them I might know someone.’

‘You did, did you?’ He leaned closer still. I felt his lips smile against mine before he kissed me.

‘Want me to put in a good word?’ I asked.

‘I’d be happy to make it worth your while,’ he whispered in my ear.

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