Chapter 8

Tony and Maggie collected Andrew mid-morning and they were soon out on the road back to Norwich, and beyond. And they had lots of news for the journey.

“We have made a steady stream of good money from lots of newspapers with that cache of photographs you bought. Charlie McWilliams seemed to have been quite the photographer in his day. We have gone through all of the 1950s. There was one set of photos that got us more money than all the rest though. Did you know that Marilyn Monroe filmed one movie in Britain?”

Andrew shook his head. His film knowledge was woeful.

“It was called the Prince and the Showgirl and it starred her and Laurence Olivier. So Charlie got some pictures of her. We can’t really tell where, it doesn’t look or seem like a studio and it is not one of those pictures snapped on the street. But there are 22 pictures of Marilyn Monroe and nobody knew they existed. Mhairi has been bloody fantastic, I would have given them away for a fraction of what she has negotiated. When she found out that you bought them she just laughed. She says she does legal work for you, well us in this case, that no one else in the city does.”

Tony paused for breath and Maggie tagged in.

“What none of us can understand is why McWilliams had all these photos and nobody knew about it, and why did he not try and sell them, publish them. When Monroe died in 1962 surely he must have realised that they would be worth something. What did you pay for everything?”

“£500.”

“We have made more than £10,000 already and we are only about a third of the way through all the boxes.”

Maggie tapped Tony on the shoulder.

“Tell Andrew how you are doing?”

“It is not just me, it is both of us. We have started to sell quite a few sets that we have shot over the last six months. And more than 80% of them have been the non-nudes. Remember that model Angela that I got you to shoot in April. Well we sold shoots that we both shot. Elspeth’s mother has taken over from Elspeth going through all those old photographs, she is most likely to recognise someone from that era. Elspeth is running the three studios and is on the phone the whole time talking to companies and magazines. Stacey is now the full time shop manager and I spend all my time in the studio or darkroom. Even with paying for those three people we have made a significant amount of money in the last couple of months and now that the new studios are up and running I think it is going to get even better. Elspeth has a real hustle to her. You wouldn’t believe some of the magazines that she has contacted, and licensed photographs to.”

Maggie took over again.

“There is a bit of a buzz about us and not just in the city. We have had models from as far away as Manchester come up to work. Tony has learned from the speed that you shoot at, and it is worth it to bring in someone new, at least for us, if we can get six or even more shoots out of them. Roughly a quarter of the models, maybe a third, are tough to deal with, think that they are something special. But the majority don’t mind working hard and a train ticket and a full day modelling fee has most people on the train without a fuss. Tony is getting a good reputation both with the buyers as well as the models.”

Maggie went on to explain some of the more complicated financial details of the EPIC Partnership. Primarily focused around Tony selling the flat to the Partnership. This had been talked about with Andrew at Easter and again on the weekly calls and there was paperwork waiting for him to sign the following week. The profits from the studio would be used to pay off the debt and then the Partnership would own the two upper studios. Tony and Maggie were very keen to make it a genuine business between the three of them. They had left the Burntisland property until last.

“Hillier’s have given an appraisal range for the house, but the mid-point is £250,000. But that is for a house with no junkyard at the foot of the hill and on a stable slope. This property has neither. The engineers who prepared the report were quite worried about the slope, as it does not drain very well. They have concerns that it could slide. They also have a duty to report a potential danger both to the District Council and British Rail. So the current owner is royally hooped. Did you know he lives in South Africa?”

Andrew shook his head.

“Apparently he emigrated there five years ago. From what Mhairi has been able to discern he isn’t short of a bob or two but has spent no money on the place since he left. The solicitor says a handyman goes round the place twice a year making sure the gutters are clean, there are no leaks, things like that. But that is it. So that is the house.”

Maggie swallowed some water and prepared to carry on.

“The junkyard is interesting. They dumped oil there probably 100 years ago, a long time anyway. The soil under the junk is mostly clean now, most of the oil has leached towards the sea. And that is where everything is screwed. Because it is under the train track. So the only way to fix it is to close the line for weeks if not months, or build hideously expensive supports. So the council are screwed. The house is unsellable and the owner is just going to walk away. Which means it will end up being the council’s responsibility, and cost, to fix it. Nobody has that kind of money, least of all district councils right now.”

Maggie has summed it up nicely. Everyone was screwed. It was money well spent to avoid this nightmare. However.

“I think we have a chance to get this.”

“Why on earth would we go near the place?”

“The absentee owner is the key. The council have no way to get to him, hold him liable, make him pay. The soil is an issue, but not pressing. Their issue is if there is a slide. The house, maybe the houses above it, the train track. So I think if we offer to take over the property, construct a building on the site of the junkyard to stabilise the slope, then we have a chance. We would need planning permission to run the studio and indemnity that we were not responsible for any soil remediation. Technically it is not on the property anyway.”

“Do you think they will go for it?”

“Look, it is not like Aberfan. But councils are very twitchy about landslides. Suppose there was a train passing and it was hit? So they will consider it carefully. And that is where working in the Planning Department in Edinburgh is a huge help. Sure they were right pains in the arse about the flat but I could still ask them questions. There are several filing cabinets full of procedures for certain things. I looked up the landslide one, it is dated 1968 so clearly was written after Aberfan.”

Again Maggie took a sip of water.

“We want to talk to you and hear what you think. We have spent over £1,000 already and we would likely spend up to four times that to get it to the point where we could build. Most of that would be clearing the junkyard and designing the studio.”

“What is the likely cost of the building?”

“We think about £150,000, that is a rough estimate given verbally by the bloke from Hillier’s. So it is not official.”

“Why wouldn’t the owner spend that if he is going to get £250,000 for the house?”

“The contamination. Remember he is liable for the junkyard. We would try and convince the council that it is better that they deal with us. We are here, we want to live there, and we are creating a small business, which means ongoing money to them and possible jobs.”

Maggie looked at Andrew and he shrugged.

“Okay, let’s spend the money designing a studio incorporating slope stabilisation at the back. We don’t have to spend any other money until we hear from the Council. I am okay spending more money and see where we end up.”

Tony nodded and Maggie patted him on the shoulder again.

“That is what Tony guessed you would say.”

Andrew smiled, he was very predictable apparently.

“So what are the chances?”

“Better than 50:50. If the owner was still here then he might be able to salvage something from the property. But he has emigrated and Mhairi says that his solicitor does not expect him to return. If he starts getting notices from the District Council then he is likely to want to wash his hands of the whole thing. Between Mhairi and Hillier’s we will protect ourselves.”

They were quiet while Tony got round Norwich and soon they were approaching Wroxham. All the talk about the business was over, neatly dealt with on the journey. Now they were close to their destination and the mood changed. The sense of déjà vu was strong as Tony parked the car and the three of them walked down to the same jetty as the previous year. But moored there was a larger boat than the year before. Andrew had a berth in the bow this year and Tony and Maggie had a separate stateroom at the stern. Andrew dumped his backpack in his berth and then helped Tony cast off the lines. Maggie disappeared into their room and as Tony edged them away from the jetty into the slow moving current she reappeared wearing a short sundress. Which was quickly confirmed to be all she was wearing.

“Would you like me to go and get my camera?”

Andrew laughed. It wasn’t just Maggie that nodded. Tony had brought Andrew’s camera bag down for him and when Andrew returned Maggie was steering the boat out of Wroxham. This boat had two steering positions, one in the main cabin, and an auxiliary helm up on the top deck. It was at this position that Maggie was commanding the boat. As Andrew stood at the bottom of the steps leading to the upper deck Maggie spread her legs, all the while smiling, although her focus was on the water. Tony leaned back along a bench seat where he could watch Maggie but was out of the camera’s view. When they weren’t being observed, Maggie planted her right foot on the deck, but lifted her left leg so that it was stretched along the bench at the helm. Maggie was into the shoot immediately and her pose was blatant, provocative and ever more typical of her behaviour.

“I can see you are still doing your yoga classes.”

Maggie laughed and Tony snorted out of sight. They were south of Wroxham now, slowly motoring between the empty banks of the River Bure. Maggie lifted her bum and bunched her dress round her waist. It was relaxed and casual exhibitionism, daring yet safe. As another boat went past Maggie covered up, before raising her hem once again. Andrew caught Tony’s eye and motioned for him to come below.

“Does she have a blouse or top with her, lots of buttons?”

Tony nodded and headed into their room, returning seconds later with the perfect blouse. Andrew put his camera down and climbed out onto the upper deck. He took one of the seat cousins and wedged it against the Perspex at the side of the deck beside the helm. No one could now see Maggie’s hips or legs. Tony lounged again on his bench as Maggie looked at the two of them.

“What are you up to?”

It wasn’t suspicion, more like excited anticipation.

“Take off your dress.”

Maggie did one quick check fore and aft and then pulled the dress over her head. She reached out to get the blouse from Tony but he kept it out of her reach.

“I will pass it to you if we see a boat.”

A shiver of pure sexual excitement went through her. The Broads are flat as a pancake and the rivers that meander through the area are full of sudden sharp bends. The chance of coming upon a boat with little warning was high. And Maggie knew it. Her nipples were tight and stiff and Andrew could see her rubbing her thighs together.

When the inevitable boat going the other way did appear she had about 15 seconds and so was suitably covered as they passed, although her cleavage was deep and spectacular. They were only five seconds past the boat when Tony piped up.

“You don’t need it. Hand it over.”

If someone on the other boat was looking back and watching carefully they would be able to see Maggie’s bare back but again there was no hesitation. But Tony put the blouse on his seat and slid over beside Maggie. He started caressing her thigh and Andrew knew that it was time for him to take over the steering, Maggie had her eyes closed and was squirming in the seat. The roll of film was finished anyway so he put his camera down and let the two of them head to their room. The afternoon echoed to the sound of Maggie Fife coming repeatedly. One of their windows must have been open because there wasn’t much mystery that afternoon. 42 minutes later Tony returned to the upper deck and passed Andrew a beer.

“Thanks mate.”

Andrew had moments of doubt about their odd little arrangement and since it was just the two of them he brought it up again.

“Are you okay with everything?”

Both of them knew what everything meant. Tony nodded.

“I know it seems like Maggie pushes for this more than I do but it is something that we both enjoy. I have been photographing models for.”

Tony stopped and thought about it.

“Bloody hell, 16 years. I went out with a lot of models when I was younger. I got used to knowing, and seeing, my girlfriend posing naked for other men. It seemed hypocritical to be photographing naked women but complain when my girlfriend did it. I got a kick out of knowing that all these blokes were taking her picture but I was the only one that was fucking her. When you live your life like that for more than 10 years it becomes your normal. But it was all Jack-the-lad stuff, nothing lasted more than a couple of months, I think the longest I went out with someone was six months. But then I started working with Maggie, and there was something about her that was different. You see how smart she is. And she had a total soft spot for you. Between the cancer and then you treating her normally, despite all her teasing. I suppose I grew up, better late than never.”

They both snorted at that.

“And once we started going out it I listened to her talk about growing up, the comments, the stigma, the judgement. And as she started posing for you, Maggie wound down posing for other people. With you she can finally let go, there is no judgement and so it is this very strange situation where she has almost completely stopped modelling and yet is fabulously explicit with you. It is the best of both worlds as far as I am concerned. There is something incredibly powerful in the way that Maggie exposes herself to you, flaunts herself, lies back on the bench with her legs spread wide. But then we will look at each other and we all but run to bed leaving you to stop us crashing into the bank.”

Tony drank some of his beer.

“I know that it is not how couples are supposed to behave but it is our thing. She likes to pose for you, I like her to pose for you. Win, win. In some ways we should be checking with you that you are okay. We do take advantage of you.”

“Yes we do.”

They both looked down and there standing at the bottom of the stairs leaning against the doorway was the lady herself.

“How much did you hear love?”

“Pretty much all of it. I could hear you talking when I was in the room. Which means that Andrew heard us when we were in the room, but moving on.”

Maggie climbed up and snuggled in next to Tony.

“Tony is right you know. You are the perfect gentleman with me, with us. You have never made any kind of comment, you never brush against me, never do anything. It is almost inhuman. If I didn’t see your hungry eyes I would think something was wrong. Maybe the ultimate compliment you can make to the two of us is you never do anything other than stare at me with hungry eyes. Andrew, your eyes are everyone’s eyes. They are the final piece of this crazy jigsaw. I love the way you look at me, the way you make me feel. Most models are treated poorly, not all the time but at one time or another we are all treated badly. And a big one is they are made to feel cheap, to feel that they are less than other women. It is that worry that stopped me from ever signing a release, even for the modest poses I was doing. Now I am absolutely loving being as raunchy and as wild as I want to be. And not being judged. So how are you feeling about what we do?”

“This may be the oddest way to look at it but it is karma. I am doing something for my friends because I know that they enjoy it. Now obviously I am photographing you naked so it is not like I am getting nothing out of it. But I enjoy the time we spend together. I suppose it is my rebellion, my illicit habit. I have never smoked or done drugs and I don’t drink hugely. This is my secret vice.”

Mutual assurance given by all three parties the matter was dropped. Instead Maggie went and grabbed a notepad.

“It is a beautiful afternoon. I am feeling wonderfully relaxed.”

They all laughed.

“Let’s dare to dream a little. What should the studio look like?”