‘Never found anything,’ said Stephen. ‘In fact, he never came back.’
Abby almost gasped.
‘He died?’
‘One assumes,’ shrugged Stephen. ‘I believe this was the last official photograph from the expedition. He went deep into the jungle and was never seen again.’
Abby felt her hands begin to tremble. She didn’t know why she felt so shocked, so sad.
‘What’s the matter?’ Stephen asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said quietly. ‘I suppose it makes the picture even more powerful. More perfect.’
‘Perfect for what?’ said Stephen crossly.
‘For the exhibition.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he scoffed. ‘We can’t use this. It looks like a photo story for Jackie magazine.’
Abby was determined to stand her ground.
‘By our own admission we have to make the show as powerful as possible, and this is exactly the sort of image that should be at the heart of it.’
‘Abby, Blake was a very minor adventurer, a playboy by all accounts. I don’t need to remind you that the show is called “Great British Explorers”. We are here to celebrate the best. The very best.’
It was easy to be swayed by Stephen’s self-confidence, but Abby felt suddenly passionate about the Blake photograph.
‘We have plenty of shots that put across the triumphs of exploration: Everest, the Poles, Burton at Lake Tanganyika, the Northwest Passage. But I think the man in the street finds it hard to understand the courage and grit required to do such things. Conquering Everest just doesn’t have the same resonance it had fifty years ago, not when everyone knows someone who has run a marathon, or walked up Kilimanjaro for charity. This is the GPS generation, Stephen. People aren’t impressed by explorers any more. They don’t understand them. Not like you do.’
GPS generation. Abby was pleased with that one, and she could see that it had struck a nerve. Stephen was looking sombre.
‘That’s a depressing way of looking at it. But I suppose you have a point,’ he said, rubbing his chin.
Abby nodded.
‘This show shouldn’t just be about summits and triumphs and firsts. It should be about loss and courage and heart.’ She thumped her hand against her chest, surprised at how strongly she felt about this.
Stephen fell silent in thought, then nodded.
‘Hmm,’ he said, tilting his head to look at the photograph. ‘I suppose we could pitch it as a companion piece to the letter written by Captain Scott’s wife.’
‘Yes, I really think you’ve got something there,’ said Abby, holding her breath. Experience had taught her that Stephen’s fragile ego needed to believe that every idea was his own.
‘All right. Add the Blake images to the Southern Hemisphere section and find out a bit more about the woman in the picture.’
Smiling, Abby picked up the phone and dialled an internal number.
‘Hello?’ said a husky voice.
‘Get you, sexy lady,’ laughed Abby.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Lauren morosely.
‘Hoping it was George Clooney looking for a map of Darfur or something?’
‘I was just hoping Alex might ring.’
‘Sorry to disappoint. Just wondering if you could help me find out about Dominic Blake. Sixties explorer type. I particularly need to know if he was married.’