I open my eyes and flex my hands. ‘Sorry, I started to remember the vision.’ There are crescent-shaped indents in my palms where I dug in my nails.
‘What’s she doing there?’ says Meg.
‘The girl? I told you. She was watching the raid.’
Silence.
‘Meg?’
Even in the red glow of the lamp, I can see that her skin has paled.
‘No, I mean her.’ She points a finger at the photo, and as I follow it my body is flooded with ice.
Behind the girl, staring directly at the camera, is the woman in black.
It’s like I’m trapped under the water with her again. My limbs are heavy and I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Meg calls out my name.
She holds my wrists and squeezes them. She then looks me in the eye and starts taking deep exaggerated breaths. She wants me to follow her. She’s rubbing my hands.
I still can’t catch my breath.
She drops my hands and holds my face. Rests her forehead against mine.
‘Breathe.’
I gasp for air like I’ve broken the surface of the sea.
‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!’
She holds my hands again. ‘Breathe, Michael.’
‘What’s going on?’
Her lips tremble. ‘I don’t know. Are you breathing?’
I nod.
‘OK, I’m going to stop the developing, all right?’
I flinch. ‘I don’t want to see that again.’
She rubs my hands. ‘You’ll want to later. Trust me.’ She lets go and I hug them close. I’m cold. I want to throw open the curtains and let the light back in.
I close my eyes and listen to the dripping of the photographic paper as she takes it from the tray, then the soft lapping as it goes into the other solutions. I try to think of anything other than that woman’s face staring out from the photo.
‘Drink this.’ I open my eyes. Meg is holding out a plastic thermos mug of mint tea. Behind her the photo is drying on theline. The image is turned away but I can still feel the woman’s eyes on me. I take a sip of the tea and let the tingling heat flow into my shivering chest.
‘Thanks. Sorry, I…’
Meg raises a hand. ‘That was an entirely normal reaction to whatever the fuck is going on.’
‘Which is…?’
‘I’ve no idea. Was she…?’
‘She wasn’t there. When I took the photo, she wasn’t there. I would’ve remembered.’
A small laugh. ‘Yeah, to be fair, you’d not forget.’
