Page 32 of The Summer That Changed Us

The journey went without a hitch and she easily found the studios Howard had directed her to in Chalk Farm. She climbed the stairs to the top floor and emerged into a long, thin, windowless room. Howard was already there, thank goodness; so far, so good. He was facing the back of the room, fixing a camera to a tripod, dressed in baggy jeans and a fleece.

‘Hello, Howard!’ she said, in her most confident voice. ‘I made it, I’m quite proud of myself. First time in London.’

‘Hi.’ He looked up and gave her a blank look. ‘Name?’

‘Catherine Small,’ she replied, deflated. He hadn’t even recognised her. Oh well, fair enough, he must meet hundreds of girls all the time, it was perfectly understandable that he didn’t remember her face.

‘Well, well, well, the head girl.’

‘That’s me!’ she said, doing a jazz hands wave before realising how ridiculous she must look.

‘Wasn’t sure if you’d turn up.’ He returned his attention to the camera. ‘Go behind the screen, there’s a form on the dressing table to put your details down on. Get yourself ready as quick as you can: hair, make-up, clothes off, gown on. I’m just waiting for Jay, my assistant, to come back with refreshments and we can get going.’

She vaguely registered the ‘clothes off’ instruction, but her stomach was making hollow rumbling noises and she was more interested in the word ‘refreshments’. She hadn’t eaten breakfast in case it made her stomach stick out in the photos and when she asked the price of a pot of fruit on the train she’d been horrified. Her mum’s voice had popped up in her head saying how much? I could buy a pound of apples for that! So, she hadn’t bothered.

She took a moment to study her surroundings. A wide roll of white paper hung on the back wall, spilling out onto the floor like a giant loo roll, big black metal lights either side like something you’d see on a film set. At the opposite end of the room was a small kitchenette and next to it a boxy little sofa and tucked into a corner was a fold-out screen, the sort you might get at the doctor’s. It wasn’t very glamorous, she thought, heading for the screen.

Once behind it, she sat down at the dressing table and took a few deep breaths, glad to be hidden from view for the time being. She found the form Howard had mentioned and filled it in, adding her bank details and home address before signing it. That was a good start, she reasoned, at least it looked as if she was going to get paid. Her reflection in the mirror was a bit of a shock; her hair had gone frizzy around her hairline and her skin was pink from the walk from the tube station. She put some make-up on, not really sure whether it was too much or not enough. She brushed her hair which made the frizz worse and she wondered whether she should put it in a ponytail. She poked her head back around the screen to ask Howard but before she could speak the door banged open and a second man walked in carrying a takeout tray of cups and a paper bag.

‘Jay meet Catherine, Catherine meet Jay,’ said Howard, pulling off his fleece and flinging it towards a holdall near the door.

‘Hello,’ she said, mustering up a smile.

She’d assumed Jay would be a young man but this one had receding hair, dirty jeans, a too-short T-shirt stretched over a flabby belly and a shirt over the top which had a rip in the elbow.

‘Nice one, Howard,’ Jay said without taking his eyes off her. He gave her a lazy smile and then put down the cups. ‘Help yourself to coffee, Cath.’

‘Thank you.’ She opened her mouth to correct him: it was Catherine, she didn’t like being called Cath, but thought better of it. He took out a Danish pastry from the bag and took an enormous bite, sending a cloud of icing sugar to the floor. He grinned at her and a ripple of unease ran through her; there was something wolf-like about him. This didn’t seem like fun anymore. Howard wasn’t too bad, but Jay gave her the creeps. It suddenly dawned on her that no one knew where she was. She didn’t even know where she was, not really. She’d just followed directions.

Her heart began to thud. She was beginning to have serious doubts about this.

‘Ready.’ Howard nodded at Jay and then looked at Catherine, noticing she wasn’t ready. ‘Come on, love, chop-chop, clock is ticking. Behind the screen. Take everything off and stick the gown on.’

Her armpits prickled with perspiration. ‘Everything? Why?’

Jay swore under his breath. ‘We haven’t got time for this. Do you want to be a model or not?’

Not, thought Catherine. Not if she had to take her clothes off. Her doubts were rapidly turning into certainty. She folded her arms across her chest and contemplated running for the door.

Howard must have sensed her reservations and came towards her smiling. ‘Don’t worry, princess, you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.’ He put a hand on her shoulders. ‘I need to take some close-ups of your face and shoulders to send to Adidas, that’s all. Bone structure is very important. We don’t want any messy straps spoiling the pictures, that’s all. And I’ve got some of their new sportswear to put you in afterwards and we don’t want to see VPL, do we?’

She shook her head.

‘Good girl.’

Catherine allowed herself to be led behind the screen by Howard. He disappeared discreetly while she stripped off. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, taking her clothes off behind a flimsy screen with two strange men in the room. She could almost hear Rose’s voice: you did what? Are you for real? She didn’t dare contemplate what her parents would think.

The sooner this was over, the better. She’d never do this again; she felt a bit scared and vulnerable and lightheaded from not eating. It had better be worth it financially; she wondered when they’d talk about payment for today.

‘Howard, there’s no belt for this dressing gown,’ she called, searching the floor in case it has slipped behind the dressing table.’

‘It was there five minutes ago,’ said Howard. ‘Are you sure?’

‘We pay for this studio by the hour,’ Jay growled. ‘The next girl will be here soon, so unless you want to miss your slot, I suggest you hold onto the bloody gown and get out here now.’

His tone frightened her, but she was determined not to show it. Everyone knew modelling was a tough profession, she reminded herself, you just had to get on with it.

‘Coming.’ With more confidence than she felt, she emerged from behind the screen, gripping the lapels of the cotton gown.