She photographed the pig, the cat, and the carriage from several angles, wondering what the harsh light of the flash would uncover when she developed the film. Often the camera revealed things that her naked eye did not notice.
“How did it catch on fire, do you know?”
Fabrice remained quiet for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. But finally he said: “My father said his mother—my grandmother, Josephine—used to ride this machine at night. A lot of the people in the village thought Josephine had been unfaithful....”
Cady snapped a few photos of the spinning tub.
“There was a problem with the steam engine, when the wrong kind of kerosene was used. Josephine’s body was found here, after the fire was put out.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cady said, snapping photos of the rounding board overhead. “What a tragic accident.”
“Some said my grandfather went crazy with jealousy and lit the thing on fire while she was out here. They thought he killed her on purpose.”
Cady froze. Slowly, she lowered her camera and looked at Fabrice. His face was sketched with strange, strong shadows and planes from the flashlight beams.
“Did your father believe that?”
“All I know is that this is what a dream looks like after it’s turned into a nightmare.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
PRESENT DAY
CHÂTEAU CLEMENT
Cady
Cady was wide-awake at six, anxious for the light of day.
She was excited to tell Jean-Paul that Fabrice had shown her the carousel, but her cell phone didn’t get reception, and she didn’t feel like she could chat freely on the telephone in the kitchen. Also, she was expecting Johnny to arrive early today for work. She would have to catch up with Jean-Paul later.
At the crack of dawn she dressed warmly and brought her camera bag outdoors. She propped open the large doors of the building and assessed the remnants of the dream in the clarity of early morning, white light slanting in through the high, dust-caked windows.
As usual, the daylight was better for her photography, but harder on the imagination. The haunted romance of the carousel had dissipated with the night; in its place was a complete and total mess. Cady felt a flicker of self-doubt. Maybe Fabrice was right; was there even anything to salvage under all this grime?
She laid out her cameras, settled in behind the first lens, and started clicking.
• • •
When Johnny arrived, Fabrice directed them to a storage closet where they found fans, masks, and gloves left over from his earlier repair efforts. They brought their supplies to the outbuilding, opened the windows, and positioned fans to create a cross-breeze.
Johnny leaned against the outside of the building, brought a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, and lit up.
Cady gave him an exasperated look. “We just set up these fans to save our lungs, and now you’re going to smoke?”
He shrugged and gestured toward the interior with his head. “It’s just a bunch of junk.”
“That’s what it looks like at first, I know. But a lot of junk only needs a second chance. Put out that cigarette while we’re inside, please.”
Grudgingly he did so, then followed her into the building.
“Check this out,” Cady said, leading him across the floor of the carousel to one of the interior panels. She used a rag to wipe off a corner. “There’s a whole painting under all that soot. See it peeking through?”
He squatted on the other side of the painting. “What do you want me to do, wash it off?”
“No, unfortunately it’s not quite so simple. If you use soap and water it can actually get under the oil paint and cause it to flake off, or leave a foggy residue, called a ‘bloom.’” It had been a while since Cady had cleaned old oil paintings with Maxine. She didn’t want to do anything drastic, such as removing the varnish and risk removing original paint along with it. At first, at least, she wanted only to remove the soot to reveal the underlying painting. “We’ll need a special solvent. I don’t suppose there’s an art supply store in Saint-Véran?”
He looked confused.
