The Phantasm Camera Riddle; Chapter Three

III.

 (Recap; Stuart attended his brother's funeral and stayed for a night at his nephew's home. There he had flash-backs of long forgotten memories he wished not to recall. At Dunfermline, during Christmas time, he met Regina, a young photography enthusiast. Though an unusual companions, they're becoming friends...) 

(Picture credits; https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2015/jan/22/death-city-grisly-secrets-victorian-london-dead )

Regina arrived in a big rented cab. Stuart didn't have enough time to drink his morning coffee and smoke his first cigar. When he exited to welcome her, she was already taking her things out. She refused coachman's offer of help and was struggling carrying a big suitcase. Stuart hurried to give her a hand. "What's inside?", he asked, breathing heavily because it was quite weighty.

"Oh, just dad's old treasures", she winked at him and left him to deal with the huge bag on his own while she took care of smaller ones.

She opened the big suitcase inside of the studio. Stuart gasped as the camera came into his view. The suitcase was made especially for it, so its parts fit perfectly into dents among the protective sponge. Camera's body reminded Stuart of harmonica. A bubble-looking object was connected to it by a tube. Besides the lens put into the clip, there were multiple lenses for changing. Besides them, a detachable iron stand was stored in the suitcase.

"This isn't one of your old view cameras", Regina spoke, "but a press camera. 1900 Goerz. My father purchased it from an American. He met him one evening in a pub. They got into a talk and foreign man told him he had this camera but never used it. Poor man wasn't aware of its worth and my dad got it for a ridiculously cheap price. Luck always followed Roland Jamieson!"

In another, smaller bag, a similar camera was stored, but it had a mahogany body and a drop shutter Regina called "guillotine". "This one's British, made in 1889 by mister Flammang. You see, when the air-bulb is squeezed, the piston in forced upwards, revealing the lens, and a photograph is taken. Goerz's camera is more modern than Flammang's. Since it was made for press people, it produces printed photographs. Rather practical compared to your copper plates." She continued to the next box. Stuart recognized the camera she took out. "A classical boxy calotype camera. Old hag just like yours, but even this one is at an advance since it can produce more than one photo."

"Daguerreotypes are unique." He knew she was joking just for fun and admired his camera no matter how anachronistic it was.

"And next thing will shock you." The last bag contained another small camera in the shape of a box. Regina handed it to him. He studied all its sides. It was so simple, but he couldn't figure out how was it used. "A button", Regina pointed to one side of it. "I introduce you to the newest technology; Kodak camera made for anyone and everyone!" His facial expression must've said enough. Regina burst into laugher. "You're not fond of it. Fair enough. I think it's nice that everyone can take their own photos, make memories whenever they want to. And look at this." She was holding a small paper box in her hand. "You press the button, we do the rest", was written on it. "It's called a roll film. By putting it inside, you're able to take plenty snapshots. It sells for only one dollar in America. They call it Brownie."

Stuart returned Kodak camera to its place. There was one bag left. It looked like a wallet. "What's in there? Not another revolutionary camera I suppose."

Regina shook her head. "I took it by accident. Just a bunch of photos... Better not look at them. What they show isn't pretty."

Stuart's morbid curiosity encouraged him to demand take a look, but Regina's emotions were visible enough to repel the idea. Her face brightened up as she took out morning newspapers. She turned them on the explicit page to show him their new advertisement. Written in big red letters, title Malcolm's Photo Studio had its own place to attract the attention of possible customers. Stuart grinned, but Regina figured out he wasn't exceptionally glad to see this. "You don't like the name? I couldn't wait, so I just told them to write what I saw written on the sign next to the bell outside..."

"You didn't do a mistake", he reassured her, "it's just that I didn't expect this to happen so quickly... How much did it cost? I told you it's not a very money-making job..."

Regina hissed. "Never mind that, my treat. Now that everyone can see our commercial, the job shall become profitable."

Stuart read further. Small words beneath the name of his studio informed that he was one of the rare photographers still willing to take photos of the dead, and suggested this to be his biggest talent. However, it also offered other services such as family and wedding portraits. It listed all photo techniques his and Regina's equipment enabled them to use and finished with an address. Stuart was a bit exasperated because Regina worked on their project behind his back and the offer in the newspaper surpassed what he was used to do, but it was catchy. And it wasn't one of the local magazines, but the one residents of Edinburgh also read.

After his new co-worker showed him her precious possessions, it was his time to introduce her to the magic happening after the mere act of photographing with a daguerreotype camera. Like an apprentice, Regina watched and listened carefully as Stuart explained her what each chemical did to the daguerreotype in making. She nodded when he warned her about the mercury's poisonousness and pointed out how gentle she must be when coating it with gold chloride. If he had to explain the process to anyone else, Stuart would be in despair for he wouldn't know how to demonstrate each part in both understandable, yet forewarning way. How could he pass his fascination and dedication to another person? But he was delighted to show his masterwork to Regina and had no doubts that she understood him perfectly. Her eyes sparkled with innate intellect and the same curiosity which overwhelmed Stuart when he waited for a new picture to form. 

Regina came the next day and the day after that, but no customers arrived. She kept herself busy; she brought decorations to brighten up the studio. Stuart watched her in perplexity and amazement as she bounced from one corner of the room to another, placing a flower here, a decorative plate there, a sculpture of Venus somewhere else. She made lunch for them and talked about everything that came to her mind. Stuart was unable to oppose anything she did or said. She cleaned all of her cameras with more care than he thought it was possible and found a space for each of them in the studio. "When people come in, we want them to see what we offer", she explained.

It was Friday when a new customer arrived. It was a local butcher whose father had sadly passed away and he wanted Stuart to photograph him. He frowned when he saw Regina, but said nothing to offend her. Stuart was prepared for people to feel repulsion and doubt because a woman was now working with him and he was known as a weirdo fascinated by the dead.

The deceased one was brought in tomorrow morning. Regina remained calm while the body dressed in a fine suit was positioned on the sofa. She even came up to the butcher and said: "Which type of photo do you prefer? We have a few in store." With her hand she showed the cameras in line. The man, obviously ignorant of the existence of different cameras, just asked for the standard type. Stuart turned the hourglass as the daguerreotype was being taken. When they were left alone, Stuart asked Regina whether she was feeling alright. She smiled. "Well, it sure is different when dead person is sitting like a living human being... But I've seen blood and tragedy much worse that this." He allowed her to do the process in the dark room, but remained at her side to correct any mistake she might make. However, Regina remembered everything he told her and did the job as if it wasn't her first time. They left the photo to develop and went to celebrate the success with hot tea.

After a murmur of delight caused by the nice smell of the tea, Regina spoke: "You never told me why you started photographing the dead in the first place. Quite a peculiar interest."

Stuart's moustache twitched. He liked Regina a lot, but was unprepared for such personal questions. He looked at her pondering whether to open up himself or change the subject. But her expression was so comforting he found himself speaking the truth before he even realized the meaning of his words: "It was in the war." Her eyes widened, uttering the unspoken question about his age. The last infamous war was indeed the Boer war, but not the one he was involved in, but the Boer war which lasted from 1899 to 1902. Many sons of Great Britain went to fight in the Second Boer War and many died. "Not in that war", he went on. "I enlisted in the 1880. I spent three months in Africa. My brother also went, but only to protect me." It was probably the first time he admitted this conviction of his aloud. It felt strange to share his opinion with another person.

"I wasn't aware of you having a brother. Or a family at all."

"My brother passed away recently."

Regina lowered her head. "I'm sorry", she said with a voice of one who has experienced the true sadness of being left behind after the deceased loved one.

"I hadn't seen him or anyone from my family since the early eighties... They invited me after the funeral, I was supposed to spend holidays with them, but I missed my opportunity."

She didn't push him to continue, but his tongue was loosened. "My brother, Oliver, was always everyone's favourite. Even as a young boy, he was particularly polite and clever. Naturally, he excelled at school. He grew into a well built lad. He was good at sports and science. He was popular with girls and never fought with our parents. I loved him same as everyone else. We were really close. It seemed normal for me to follow in his steps, but I was nowhere near as brilliant as Oliver. Compared to him, I was a lame companion who always clung to his brother."

"You were jealous."

He was, though he never expressed his unhappiness. At least not until the war. Stuart had nothing particular in his mind when he enlisted. He saw the advertisement and the decision was made. "I never argued with Oliver. We played together as kids, he helped me to study when I started falling behind with my studies. We talked all the time. I was the first person he informed about his plans to propose to Carol." But deep beneath, Stuart wasn't satisfied with himself. When Oliver wasn't around, people only talked about how they missed him. Their mother tried to hid her preferences, but it was obvious Oliver was her favourite. Their father was disappointed with Stuart being unable to keep up with the family tradition of raising talented and successful sons. He had no friends because he was an introvert and the only one who could make him talk and laugh was his brother. "Oliver went after me. It might seem like mere three months, but a few days of war are enough to twist your mind."

"Have you killed?", Regina asked without hesitation.

"No", Stuart admitted, "Oliver made sure I wouldn't defile my soul with such a sin. On the other side, he had shot two or three Boers." Stuart hid from Oliver during that period of their lives. The most he managed to spend without talking was three days, for he managed to keep away from his brother. "But he always found me in the end. He'd ask me whether I'd been hurt or if I want to eat. My answers were short and cold. I wanted to be independent. I thought I might earn some respect if people stopped viewing me as Oliver's follower." But war brought none of them glory.

During one of their last nights in the south, the wounded were brought in their camp. Everyone had to help the doctors because the wounds were severe and many men were hurt. Stuart and Oliver got separated. Although he knew nothing about medicine, Stuart did his best to help. However, they couldn't save everyone and more than three men died while he was holding them. "And in the midst of this horror, there were people taking photographs." He saw some photographs in Scotland, but he never gave them much attention. That night, he couldn't stop thinking about the dead men. He wasn't brought up in a religious family, so he never considered what could happen to a human's soul after death. Now his thought were so deeply engaged in the subject of afterlife, he went on for days without sleep. And the photographers tarried around, moving their heavy equipment from one place to another. They took photographs of landscapes, battlefields, soldiers, even of Stuart himself, but he didn't care about those pictures. His intrigue in death became connected with photographing, and he started wondering... "Can a photograph reveal the secret behind death?"

Regina's eyes regarded him with honest interest. "And have you discovered anything?"

He shook his head. "Nothing except the beauty behind what most people find terrifying. My parents gave me the money to start the business, but only because they believed I'd come running home after a short time." He shrugged his shoulders. "And here I am to this day, still fascinated by the photographs and the dead."

"And where does daguerreotype fit in this story?"

"The only photograph we had in our place in the village was a daguerreotype of my deceased grandfather. It was taken posthumously. He died when I was eleven years old. Perhaps that object influenced my future desires and choices together with what I saw in the war. I never thought about it... I never think much about anything..."

Regina surprised him by putting her hand over his. Her touch was gentle and comforting, though he was unsure why he needed comfort in the first place.

They moved back to the dark room to check what they've made. Stuart lifted the new daguerreotype towards the light coming through the open door. He blinked a few times. Something was strange. He showed photo to Regina. She knitted her brows. "You see, this is why I prefer modern cameras! If we had only taken the photo with a calotype, we would be able to make more copies and wouldn't have this kind of problems!"

The old man's eyes on the photo were closed. Stuart decided not to mention that they didn't look as if the picture was blotchy or the eyelids accidentally fell down in the moment the photo was taken, but as if the man was decisive on closing his eyes. He didn't want to be photographed.

"Similar thing happened with my last customer", Stuart said, "woman's arms were moved, but the people who ordered the photo didn't make a fuss."

Regina was not permissive. "We can't allow such mistakes! Word will spread that we're not professionals!" Taking another glance at the photo, she let out a disappointed sight. "We'll have to give this to the butcher, but next time we shall insist on taking numerous photographs with different cameras. I'll prove it to you and others that they're more efficient than daguerreotype. Though I must confess", a smile of curiosity and jolliness was back on her face, "these one-of-a-kind samples are truly beautiful. I bet a hundred years from now, when dozens of new, better cameras will had been invented, people will still sight at the magnificence of daguerreotypes."

The way she changed her tone from angry to cheerful astounded Stuart. He agreed with her demand immediately. When the butcher came to pick up the daguerreotype of his father, Stuart informed him that the photo didn't turn out the way they expected it to.

"Never mind, Stuart", the butcher said. He had purple bags beneath his eyes and his voice was low, so Stuart knew that he honestly mourned his father. "I'll take the picture, and you keep the money. Here", he put one pound on the desk between them, "for your fairness." Stuart was very surprised. One pound might not have meant a lot to a busy butcher, but that amount was often Stuart's wage. Since Regina had started working with him, he became concerned with the lack of supplies in his home. He had only the modestest of the foods. He was sometimes forced to beg for stale bread at the bakery. He spent all his gas for lamp and had no candles, so it was dark inside as soon as the night fell, which was quite early during the current winter period. For all this reasons, one extra pound meant the world to him.

But his worries slowly diminished in the following days. People had finally noticed the add in the newspapers. A local woman was marrying and the couple came to take pre-wedding photos at Stuart's studio. Regina was happy when they choose Goerz camera instead of Stuart's daguerreotype. The photos turned out great and the bride was delighted that she had more than one copy to hand out to cousins and friends. Another day a married couple came to take portraits with a Calotype. Regina encouraged Stuart to handle equipment she brought so that he could get used to other cameras besides his favourite. Business was growing. Regina refused to take her part of the money they earned. She was more willing to give Stuart some of her own savings, but the thought of taking money from a young woman was absolutely repulsive to him. However, when she noticed how miserable the food he ate was, nothing he said could dissuade her from bringing groceries to his place. She was also a great cook.

Albeit all the work brought Stuart a decent amount of money, he missed the fulfilment he felt when the subjects he was photographing were deceased. He rejoiced when a customer from south came with a request to photograph his deceased cousin. Him and his family were on their way to one of northern villages where his cousin was from. They stopped in Durfenmil because they heard of Stuart's studio and his speciality. As they agreed to, Regina convinced the customer that it would be best to take a photo with each of their cameras. She was ready to do it for free, but the man had no problem with paying for all of it.

The deceased woman was too young. She was pretty, with pale face and nicely tied brown hair. She had a little black hat on her head and was dressed in a beautifully hand made dress with lace. Stuart turned the hourglass while the daguerreotype camera was taking the photo. Regina then took numerous photos with Kodak. She walked around the room photographing from different corners. Stuart kept for himself the opinion that it took the grace of the photographing and the photographer away. She took a photo with a calotype and the two cameras with air balls.

"We'll have a lot of developing to do", she commented, but the customers said they won't come back until the end of the week. "This shall be a practice for you", Regina said when they were left alone. "You do the developing process." She had shown him how to work on image development for each camera, but he hadn't had an opportunity to try out his new skills. As soon as she left the studio, he got to work. Since he had money to buy gas, nothing stopped him from working during the night. Besides, nighttime brought him little sleep lately. He had nightmares about the war. It was as if he never left the camp. He saw the men doctors uselessly tried to cure, the men which died while he was standing beside them and crying because of the loss their families will have to face with. The fear of dying would absorb him and he'd wake up sweaty and nervous. At other times he dreamt those same dead men, but not in the place he saw them when they died, but in the daguerreotypes. They'd sit in his studio, in the exact way any other deceased person brought to his workplace was positioned, and stared at him. But when the photo was taken and the lens covered, the dead man on the sofa would turn his head and speak up. "Stuart", each of them said. "Where are you, Stuart?" Then Stuart would take a look at the developed daguerreotype which appeared in his hand. The man on the photo would look like he's screaming, crying or praying, but he was never in a position he was in while the sand in the hourglass was falling down. He chose the lack of sleep ver struggle with bad memories and fears of the past.

First he took the film out of the Kodak and placed the two small photos taken in less than ten seconds aside without taking as much as a peek. He went on to cover the paper he took out of the calotype camera with chemicals which enabled the picture to show itself and put another paper over it in order to get two copies. He left them near the window so that the morning light might reveal the true nature of papers which seemed blank at the moment. After daguerreotype, while he was dealing with the two photos which needed to be printed using tools Regina left him, his eyelids became heavy. His body resisted his will to spend the night awake and succumbed to its mortal needs. With his hands still on the unfinished photographs, he closed his eyes.

In the blackness of nothingness a picture appeared.

His brother's face stared at him. Bonfire was visible behind him. Oliver was young and thin, worn out by the battlefield. Their unit was just called to the front. Stuart followed his brother. Before they arrived at the gathering place, Oliver turned towards his brother. "Stay behind me", his voice vibrated with fear, but his tone was commanding. It was the first time they've been invited into the real battle. Oliver was scared for his own and the life of his younger brother. "If you are in danger, run. Escape if you can. Even if we're both on target... Save yourself." Stuart didn't answer.

He opened his eyes. His mouth were opened and lips dry. Did he fall asleep standing? Luckily, he wasn't unconscious long enough to mess up the photos. The kerosene lamp had went out while he was in a disrupted state, so he struggled to find his way upstairs in the complete darkness. He fell on the bed as soon as he entered the bedroom.

The picture reappeared before his eyes were fully closed. Oliver was kneeling before him, dressed in Highlander's military uniform; kaki coloured jacket with many belts and pockets with reserve bullets, helmet and a plaid kilt. Rifle was set on his shoulder. In a frenzy, Stuart realized he was dressed in the same clothes and carried the same weapon.

"Fire, now!", the commander yelled, but the instructions weren t meant for Stuart nor his brother, but for those in the first rows. Soldiers shot, screamed and cursed. Stuart heard horrible sounds of gunfire, but was too far behind to see the action. Oliver turned and nodded, timid smile of his face. He turned every few seconds just to assure himself his little brother was alright and confirm to Stuart that he was well, too, although Stuart's mind was so empty he didn't even take into consideration that Oliver might be hurt. Paused in the eternal waiting, Stuart raised his face towards the clear sky. Stars shone. It was the third day of the new year.

"We'll survive this Hell, Stu", Oliver talked while they retreated. Stuart remained silent. "We'll be home at no time, we only have to be careful..." As if he forgot that Stuart volunteered. It was his fault the two of them were so far from home. Stuart gambled their lives. Nevertheless, he felt no regret. "You'll see, Stuart. Just stay close to me."

But when Stuart looked at his brother, he didn't see a face of a young Highlander, but an old visage full of wrinkles, with blurred eyes filled with sadness. Oliver in his last days.

The photographer woke up with a start and a screech stuck in his throat. Church bells sounded outside, it was six o'clock in the morning. Stuart rubbed his eyes. "Damn nightmares... I thought I forgot everything about that day, our first war experience... Oliver..." He stopped himself. Continuing would only lead to the refreshment of more memories. "It's self-destruction, it is. Should ask a doctor to give me some sedatives..."

He went to the dark room to collect the photos he left there and picked up the calotype left on the window. Regina wasn't coming in another three hours, so he had time to check his doing alone beforehand. First he looked at the daguerreotype. A nice example of an experienced handwork. He managed to capture young woman's beauty. He was sad because he couldn't keep the photo, but maybe she was just as beautiful on one of the Kodak or calotype photos. He laughed at this hopeless thought. He didn't really believe any camera could take as artistic a photo as daguerreotype.

"This isn't right." On the first calotype copy he looked at, woman's head was turned to the left. He remembered Regina moving around the room with different cameras, but corpse was in the same position as when she photographed with a calotype. He took the other copy. "No!" It fell on the floor from his hand. He was too scared to pick it up. On it, woman's head was directed towards the camera. Her lips were parted as if she was about to pronounce a silent word. The calotype copies were supposed to be identical. Leaving the fallen calotype on the floor, he took the prints from Goerz and Flammang's camera. Woman's head was slightly tilted on the one side on both of them, but, unlike in the Goerz copy, in the photo taken by Flammang's camera her arm was lifted from her lap. "I must be insane!" Stuart reached for the calotype. He stared at all photos for a while, blinking and rubbing his eyes. Nothing changed. Every photo was different.

The deceased woman moved while the photos were being taken.

"Impossible", he whispered to himself. "It took us only a few minutes... And we were all there, we would've seen if something had happened..." His first impulse was to quickly get rid of the odd photos, but he could't force himself to throw them into the fire. What if it was an illusion, or if he had made the whole thing up? "Maybe I need more than sedatives..."

One thing was immediately clear to him; he mustn't show them to Regina or anyone else. The daguerreotype turned out alright, therefore he shall give it to the customers, but he'd rather return them the money than give them the rest of the photos. It might have been in his head, but on the other side it might have been...

Stuart put unbecoming photos in an envelope and sealed it the best he could. He stored it in a commode in his room, the only one in his house which had a locker. He then put the small key in a drawer bellow the desk in the dark room where he was sure nobody would find it. Calmed by the conviction that he had removed the problem, Stuart went outside and smoked his last cigar in the cold morning air.

Rented cab stopped in front of him. Regina cheerfully jumped out of it. Wading through the snow, she came up to him and wished him good morning. A basket hung from her arm, a warm whiff rose from under the blanket with which it was covered.

"I woke up early this morning", Regina said as they entered, "so I made bannocks. Try them while they're still warm! But first bring me yesterday's photos!"

"Ahm", Stuart mumbled. He had left the daguerreotype on the desk in the studio, so he passed it to her. Regina whistled and complimented how nicely it had turned out, but she wanted to see the work she had done. "I don't think you should see them."

Regina's liveliness dropped. "What do you mean? Don't tell me you messed all of them up!"

"No!" In the same moment as he denied her accusation, Stuart thought it would be easier if he had admitted the mistake he hadn't made. "They're wrong. We'll return those people money they paid for them..."

"Wrong? What's wrong with them if you did what you were supposed to? Are you indicating I messed them up while photographing?"

"No! I never said that."

She was angry and he didn't know what to do to calm her. "Then show me the photos! Even if they are no good, I still want to see them. You must understand a photographer wants to see her artwork!" He understood this very well, but nothing was going to make him change his mind. "Wait, I know", her rage reached the peak, "you can't accept daguerreotype isn't the only tool for making photographic art! I see know. Very well." She put on the coat she took off only a minute ago. Panic raised in Stuart's throat, but he was unable to stop her or explain himself. "Perhaps we made a mistake, Mister Malcolm. It seems the two of us do not get along as well as we supposed. I must withdraw my consent to our partnership. The cab shall be sent for my equipment on Monday. Good day to you." Before he managed to take another breath, Regina's feet swung snow on the doorstep and she was out of his studio. Stuart was left alone with a bitter taste in his mouth to stare at the bucket she left on the sofa.

He went downstairs to take the key and was rushing to open the commode with the photos. Losing Regina was too much. He had to face his fears. He walked in circles, his hands shaking and holding the envelope. He forced himself to look at the photos left in his hands when the torn envelope fell to the floor.

Dead woman was differently moved in each of them.

Stuart examined each picture individually, trying to understand the cause of the anomaly. He knew all about photographic delusions, overlapping scenes and tricks which illusionists used to deceive fools who easily believed in ghosts. But there were no shadows in these photos, not a single blur that could be misinterpreted. Woman's arm in Flammang's camera photo, her lips in the calotype...

"You can't fake movement", Stuart whispered. "Besides, we didn't try to fake anything... Maybe it's Regina's doing, her way of teasing me..." Only he knew that wasn't possible. Regina was jolly, but she'd never trifle with job. And how could anyone modulate a photo to such an extent without somebody noticing? "It's a strange thing... Most strange..."

He stood next to the silent fireplace, his eyes directed before him in order to escape the photos left on his chair. What good would hiding them bring to him? And what about Regina? He was pretty sure by now that he wasn't insane after all. He decided to leave them among the rest of his collection. He had a few days before Monday to reconsider whether he should or not show them to Regina after all. He hoped to think of a way to apologize and make her return to her workplace.

When the deceased woman's loved ones arrived, he handed over the daguerreotype and gave them back the excess money. "Sadly, the others turned out to be a failure."

Calotype camera

Goerz camera

Flammang's Patent Revolving Back Camera

♦

Stuart spent Sunday morning awaiting at the graveyard, but to no avail. The last member of the flock exited the church, followed by an elderly pastor. The man in purple robes remained outside when all of his listeners left. Stuart introduced himself and asked whether he knew where Regina Jamieson lived. The pastor was kind and answered Stuart the best he could. Stuart found Regina's place before noon.

A line of compactly clustered houses stretched down the street. Each of them was separated from the road by an iron fence decorated with various motives. The entrances were lowered and connected to the sidewalk via stairs. Stuart's look passed from one address number to another, but the pastor couldn't describe Regina's house, he only knew the name of the street. He walked down the lane, squinting through the windows caped in expensive curtains. This was rich people's district. Not a single residence was deficient in decoration or order. Through one of the windows, he saw a family of three sitting by the table. Servants were serving them chicken and baked potatoes. The child, little boy, was sitting in his father's lap, nervously kicking with his short legs, eager to taste the treats. Stuart sighed. Oliver was just like that as a kid, only more polite. Stuart was a toddler when Oliver was of a preschool age, and he had a strangely vivid memory of his brother running around the table before Sunday lunch. He'd calm down and sit at the moment their father would admonish him. Everybody praised his ability to put his bold spirit under control. Oliver was a hearty child. Their mother was grateful that Stuart's spirit was so different from his brother's, but other people whispered Stuart always lacked a sense of boyish curiosity and vivaciousness...

"Stuart!" His line of thinking broke at the vibration of Regina's voice. She was about to enter through the door of one of the houses. Stuart's eyes flew towards the window besides the door. It had no curtains, but three framed photographs were on the shelf on the inside. He smiled. Even if he hadn't stumbled upon her, he could've guessed this was her place.

"Regina, I came to beg for your apology", he sounded awfully formal.

She crossed her hands. "Really? For what?"

"For not showing you the photos..." Stuart swallowed saliva in desperation. He still hoped he won't have to show her the photos, but there was no way out.

He decided to put his barricade down after a nightmare he dreamed the Friday after she left his studio. He fell asleep in a chair in front of the fireplace. He hadn't even noticed he had fallen asleep, for he opened his eyes in a dream and saw the crackling fire. His vision was blurry. Next to the unfinished bannock on the table, an envelope was placed. Stuart reached for it, but a hand appeared out of nowhere and grabbed him by the arm. The sound of fire was replaced by crackles and shouts. He smelled mud and sand sprinkled with blood, disgusting stench which haunted the camp while the dying soldiers were being brought to the tents. He saw no men, no dines, but the sounds and the smell were there, more real than dreams ought to be.

When his vision returned, he was still in a chair. The fire had gone out, but other things were in the same place where he left them before dozing out. He spent the rest of the night awake with suspicious photos in his hands. The dream started with an envelope, and though he didn't manage to check what was inside of it, he had no doubt it was the haunting pictures. His all-night pondering resulted in a decision to show them to Regina if she still wanted to see them. He couldn't keep them for himself. Their mere existence was tearing his nerves. Perhaps the woman will take a look at them and laugh. Perhaps the peculiarity is only visible to him. If this was the case, Stuart would delay no longer to ask for professional mental help.

"Fine", she accepted his apology. Disagreements forgotten in a moment, she was already smiling. "But on the condition you show them to me!"

"If you wish so", he said. He was afraid of the truth, afraid of more nightmares which were sure to come when he was left alone.

"Great! Well, now that you're already here, would you like to enter? I have prepared something delicious for lunch!" By this time, he understood Regina's suggestions were mostly polite commands, so he didn't even bother to answer, but simply followed her into the house.

The interior consisted of two floors. Stuart was surrounded by many objects from all sides, but most of them were covered with white sheets. He felt small and poor in an environment full of valuable items. He imagined velvet-lined chairs, mahogany desks and modern devices like radio hidden beneath the sheets. Regina inherited a rich legacy. While she was leading him into the dining room, his stare was passing over the walls. Where once stood big pictures, bright rectangular gaps disturbed the uniformity of ornamental wallpapers. He asked Regina why had she taken the pictures off.

"I put away everything I could", she answered nonchalantly. "Everything is in the attic. I put most of the furniture there, too." She started laughing because of the surprise on his face. "Aye, there's more than what you've seen in the hallway. There was a huge globe in the living room, an empty vintage showcase in the kitchen and all sort of things which my father inherited before me... We spent little time in this house. Dad preferred humble life, as do I."

The room was empty besides two chairs and a long table on which a big porringer was already placed. Just like in his brother's house, the building was made so that the kitchen was separated from the dining room and Regina had to go to the basement for cutlery. "I'm sure servants used to work here", she explained before leaving. "In the early thirties or so. It's much harder to manage living in here on your own."

"Why don't you employ a helper?"

She gave him a scolding look. "I believe that to be a thing of the past. People should learn to serve themselves! Oh", she smiled, "I forgot how much you love oldish customs."

"I used to live in a similar house", he said thinking of the place he grew up in. "It was a bit smaller, but very fancy considering what the surrounding was like. In the village way up north."

While he was waiting for Regina to come back, he remembered the sleeping room which he shared with Oliver when they were kids. It seemed huge like a castle when they were little. Mother would make them go to sleep early, but Oliver would always sneak out of his bed and crawl under Stuart's covers. First they played silly childish games until they'd fall asleep, but later, when Oliver went to boy school and would come home only occasionally, they'd spend nights talking. Oliver told Stuart stories and gossips he heard at school or explain lessons he listened to. Stuart eagerly listened and believed in everything his older brother told. Their mother scolded their childish behaviour. She knew about their night-time tricks, but tolerated them when they were younger. She considered them inappropriate for adolescent boys.

"Here, serve yourself!" Stuart filled his plate with soup.

When they ate up, Stuart asked Regina about the rest of the house. She was unwilling to show him around. She felt no nostalgia nor had memories connected to it. "The whole place is just too big", she said, "I get out whenever I can. Selling it will make me happy."

Stuart thought it might be a nice place if the sheets were removed from the furniture, but couldn't imagine only one person living here. A strange vision came to his mind; him and Regina living here together as content companions... companions of what sort?

"Anyway", her words pulled him back into reality, "I really want to see those photos. Would you mind if we go to the studio now?"

Now or later, what does it matter, he thought.

He didn't open the envelope before handing it over to Regina. Her fingers gently slipped through the opening, pictures were slowly taken out. Stuart held his breath while she was looking at the first and the smallest photos taken by Kodak. Her face lacked readable expression. Am I mad, or is it the worse possibility? Though he knew not what the worse possibility represented. She continued to the calotype photos.

Her confused grimace brought Stuart both relief and dread. "What's all this?", she asked silently after some time of observation. "These can't be the photos I took... They're..."

"So they are", he agreed though the description wasn't pronounced. "I was scared of showing them to you... Scared it might be in my head, meaning I went crazy, but also scared it might prove to be real."

"Real?", she sounded offended. "Are you making fun of me or what? What the hell is this!?" Waving photos in the air, Regina threateningly stepped forward, but Stuart remained motionless. Anger melted into anxiety when it came to Regina that Stuart hadn't meddled with the photos. "What the hell", she repeated, "this woman was dead. How is this possible?"

"It happened before", Stuart said. "When you were here for the first time, I sold a photo in which woman's hand was moved. But I looked through the lens before the photo was taken, and it was placed as the family demanded. Nobody saw any kind of movement while the photo was being taken." Looking behind himself at the exposed cameras, he went on: "I wanted to try out your cameras to see whether the photos would turn out normal... But this time only the daguerreotype turned out alright. I couldn't give these to the family. They're..."

"Abnormal", Regina remembered the word they needed to describe them. She seemed very distressed, but refused to sit when Stuart recommended her to rest. "I must go", she declared after a short silence. She pushed the photos away from herself, but Stuart didn't want to take them. Now that he was sure there was something wrong with them, he was scared of looking at them, not to speak of touching them. She left them on the desk. "I have something to do."

"Will you come back?" It suddenly occurred to him that he might have driven her away by showing her the photos.

Powerful sparkle in her eyes made him shiver. "Tomorrow."  

TO BE CONTINUED...

Submitted: 22nd December 2022

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