‘Well I’m surprised you’ve got the nerve.’ Her voice stings like salt and lemon without the pleasant hit of tequila; the intimacy of the last few days shattered in a single sentence. She’s a million miles away and I’m back to being just another bloke.
‘Huh, what’s up?’
‘Don’t play the innocent with me, Mickey,’ she says. ‘I thought we were getting on well. I thought I could trust you.’
‘Grace, you can. I promise you.’ My protest is so hollow I can hear an echo. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I genuinely tried to help you and this is how you repay me. I really started to think you were different but you’re not. You’re like the rest of them.’
‘What are you talking about? Grace, you’ve got me all wrong. I don’t know what’s going on here.’
‘You knew last night and you said nothing. You used me.’
‘But Grace...’
‘You went behind my back. Took what you wanted and treated me like trash.’
‘It’s not like that. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.’
‘I really started to open up to you, Mickey. I’ve never been able to do that before, and all the time… you’re as bad as all the others.’ She finally stops and leaves an uncomfortable silence, giving me time to think.
‘It’s Simon isn’t it? What’s he been saying?’
‘You spoke to him yesterday, didn’t you?’
‘He called me. I wanted to tell you last night but it got too complicated. He stitched me up and then I thought I could bring him back into line. In any case,’ I say, matching her tone, ‘I’d like to know how he even knew the camera was mine in the first place.’
The line suddenly goes quiet. ‘I had to tell him,’ she says sheepishly. ‘He saw right through me when I said it was mine.’
‘And did you give him my number as well?’
‘No, he must have got it from my phone,’ she says, sounding genuinely upset, before coming back at me. ‘But I’d like to know which one of you had the idea to trick me into believing the film was ruined.’
The anger’s still in her voice. I’d prefer not to be doing this over the phone, though I imagine it would be pretty scary in person. Our first row and I’m already on the defensive.
‘It was his idea.’ I sound pathetic.
‘And you went along with it.’
‘I really didn’t have much choice. I was hoping to sort it out with him today so I could talk to you about it tonight. And now he’s shafted me again. Honestly Grace, I was going to tell you about the photos.’
‘Photos?’ Her voice suddenly changes. ‘What photos?’
‘The ones he gave me.’
‘What photos he gave you?’
‘There were only five. Didn’t he tell you?’
‘He didn’t mention any others,’ she says. Others. The word comes hurtling towards me, but before I can bat it back she continues. ‘He gave me two copies of the same print and a single negative cut from the film. Said it was the only one that came out undamaged. He admitted he hadn’t known what to do about it yesterday when he told me the film was ruined, but he then decided I might like to deal with it… in the circumstances. In the circumstances, I can see what he means.’
‘What the hell’s that suppose to mean?’ My mind starts racing. If she has the first photo from the camera, surely she holds the key to this whole bizarre situation. But what circumstance in Herb’s mysterious blackmail caper could possibly be better dealt with by Grace?
‘Tell me about the photos you’ve got first?’ she says. The mood of the whole conversation has changed. The accusations and tearful outbursts have melted away. We’re both innocent victims of Simon’s childish games and I sense we’re back on equal terms. We both know the other holds a key piece of the puzzle and neither wants to show our hand first. I decide to push my luck and test Grace’s change of heart.
‘Why don’t you come over here and we can look at them all together?’
‘I’ll see you in The Feathers in an hour,’ she says and puts the phone down.
Over Exposed
I’m sitting at the same table as the first time we were in here together. It’s been an hour and a half since Grace hung up on me and I’m worried she’s not going to turn up. It’s becoming a bad habit, hanging around for members of her dysfunctional family. As I hold that thought, a dark cloud of irony hovers over me and asks: so what does that make your family? I shake it off and stand up for the fourth time to look across to the other side of the pub, to where I’d first laid eyes on her. But she’s not there. Oh well, I’m in no hurry to leave. Back at the bar, the same Aussie girl puts down the pint of Guinness without making eye contact, and announces the price to no one in particular. To make a point, I drop the right money in change onto the bar and turn away. Grace is sitting at our table looking at me.
There’s no beaming smile, no warm embrace, no generous kiss. I half-smile, half-frown back at her and put my glass down.
‘Tia Maria and Coke?’ I ask, hoping her face might soften.
‘Thanks,’ she says, but the fixed expression remains on her face.
I’m back with her drink and there’s an awkward pause. Neither of us wants to start the conversation. I’m not sure why I’m hesitating because I can’t wait to see the other photo, although I can sense Grace is unusually nervous. I choose my approach carefully.
‘That Simon’s a real piece of work,’ I say, without looking up from supping on my pint.
‘Yeah, a real chip off the old block, that one,’ she says and I’m surprised at the ease with which she maligns both her adoptive brother and father in one fell swoop. ‘Did you have to give him money?’ she adds, as our eyes finally meet.
‘Two hundred quid,’ I say. ‘But that’s not what pissed me off. The fact he then held back the only meaningful picture; that’s what got me mad.’
‘How do you know it’s the only meaningful one?’
‘Well you’ve seen it, so you would know!’ I snap back. I don’t mean to get shitty; I’m just in no mood to continue playing silly games.
‘So are you saying the rest are completely irrelevant?’ she says.
‘Put it this way,’ I say. ‘I can’t see anything there to threaten or be of any interest to Herb.’
‘So why are you being so cagey?’
‘What if I said I thought you might be amused by them?’
‘Amused?’
‘Look,’ I say, sensing I’ve briefly got the upper hand, even though she’s the one holding the ace, ‘I’ll put you out of your misery as soon as you hand over the other photo.’
‘Okay. I suppose you’ll have to see it sooner or later.’ Grace reaches into her bag and takes out a large brown envelope and puts it on the table. ‘You might want to be discreet,’ she adds. ‘God knows why he had to print one of them so large.’
‘Really?’ I say, holding back a smirk as I remember my instructions to Simon. ‘Maybe he’s not so belligerent after all.’ Grace gives me a puzzled look as I take her envelope and place a much smaller one on the table. She makes no attempt to grab it. I have to admire her self-control. I can’t wait another second.
Reaching into the large envelope, I start to slide out a ten by eight picture an inch at a time. The photograph that emerges begins with a pair of legs, slender and bare. Immediately, I can tell it isn’t a photo of real legs but a photo of a drawing. My eyes follow the direction of the thighs as I pull the whole print out of the envelope to reveal an expertly crafted sketch of a naked, young woman. The label printed beneath answers the obvious question.
EXAMPLE OF A TRUE-LIFE LIKENESS. MODEL IN REPOSE.
The model smiles up at me, the face of a cherub with the body of a siren. Looking back at Grace I see the same beguiling eyes, the enigmatic smile. She reaches across with her hand and gently lifts my jaw to close my mouth.
‘Oh my God,’ I whisper. ‘How the hell did this get onto that camera?’
‘Don’t you think I�
��d like to know?’ she says picking up the other envelope. ‘Okay. I’ve shown you mine; let’s have a look at yours.’
As she looks through the five prints, her face contorts. That’s followed by a brief moment of recognition.
‘I was hoping you would be able to shed some light on them,’ I say. ‘Do you remember it?’
‘Millennium Eve. Sure.’ She’s smiling broadly and I’m thinking it’s because she’s remembering good times. She starts to laugh out loud. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have believed it.’ She’s shakes her head. All the earlier anxiety has gone. She straightens up in the chair, takes a big gulp of her drink and smiles at me.
‘Now that explains everything,’ she says and continues grinning. I look back at her more bewildered than ever.
Millennium Bug
‘It’s mine!’ she says, like that’s going to be enough to iron out the creases in my brow.
‘Right. I can see that. It’s a really good likeness,’ I say, picking up the large photo and turning it lengthways, as if studying a centrefold in one of Herb’s old magazines. She scowls at me playfully before snatching it away and sliding it face down into the envelope.
‘The camera,’ she says. ‘The camera’s mine… or at least it was.’
I almost snort the Guinness while nodding to acknowledge at least that makes some sense.
‘I wanted to take a picture of Mr Johnson’s drawing,’ she continues. ‘For posterity, I suppose.’
‘Course you did,’ I say, realising how obviously credible that is. She’d enjoyed the whole experience so much it’s hardly surprising she would have wanted a secret memento.
‘I bought one of those cameras and took it in on the last day of term. Everyone had left early for the Christmas holidays. Taking the photo was the easy bit.’ She smiles and shakes her head. ‘Of course, it didn’t occur to me when I saw you with it on Saturday, that camera gave me the same dilemma all those years ago that it was giving you then.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘At least you knew what was on it,’
‘True, but that was my problem. I wanted to make it seem that I didn’t.’
‘So you took it out on New Year’s Eve and hoped it would get filled with dodgy pictures.’
‘Well it was the world’s biggest party,’ she says. ‘I was hoping the photos would get more risqué as the night went on, so that when they were developed...’
‘Yeah, I get it,’ I say. ‘By then your child porn wouldn’t even warrant a second glance.’ She grimaces and looks around to make sure no one heard me.
‘I was hoping, by comparison, it might pass as a tasteful piece of art,’ she says. ‘That was the plan.’
‘Sounds like a good one,’ I say. The Banker adds silently: One you could have used yourself if you’d been smart enough to work out the camera wasn’t full.
— Yeah, alright. Give it a rest.
‘And it probably would have worked if the camera hadn’t gone missing,’ she says. ‘I never saw it again. For months I was worried sick someone would get it developed and try to hurt me with it, but after a while I forgot all about it.’
‘I don’t suppose you would have recognised it when I handed it to you.’
‘No,’ she says. ‘They all look the same, don’t they? In any case I wouldn’t have even remembered what colour it was. And it was the last thing I was expecting. You… finding my camera… on the kitchen table in that awful house.’
The Banker’s trying to tell me something, but I put him on mute and thumb back through the other pictures.
‘What’s that in your hand?’ I ask, pointing to the one of her alone.
‘I don’t know,’ she says, leaning in to pick it up.
‘It still looks early. I can’t believe you would have lit up the sparklers already.’
‘Oh,’ she says as realisation dawns, casting a warm glow in her eyes. ‘I remember. I came back from the loo and they were all huddling over a table. When they turned around they’d lit a candle on a cupcake and started singing Happy Birthday. I was embarrassed and said it wasn’t my birthday yet. But they insisted I had to have it then because it would be a huge anticlimax celebrating a birthday the morning after Y2K. It must be the cake I’m holding in the photo before I blew out the candle.’
I smile back at her and nod. While the revelation of her birthday is a welcome distraction, it can’t divert my mind from the big question.
‘What do you think it all means?’
‘I wish I knew,’ she says, sighing deeply. ‘There was one thing I noticed though.’
‘What?’
‘Was this the last one on the film?’ she says putting the indirect photo of herself back on the table.
‘Yeah, it was.’ I point to the final exposure on the negatives. ‘Why?’
‘I’m pretty sure that wasn’t taken by one of the group.’
‘Yeah, I thought it looked out of place too. Who else do you think could have taken it?’
‘I really don’t know,’ she says, and stares off across the bar for inspiration.
‘Well, it was nearly ten years ago. Hard to believe.’
‘Yeah, I know. Hang on… yes… I remember. There was this strange man. He was sitting in the corner of the pub on his own when we first got there. Yeah, that’s right... He wasn’t in the party spirit like everyone else… he just looked pretty drunk already. God, yeah… we thought he was watching us.’
‘Do you remember what he looked like?’
‘No… not really. Just that he was middle-aged... Oh yeah, he also looked out of place because he was so smartly dressed. I remember, we were mucking about saying he was probably a psycho or a child-molester. God, yeah... We even gave him a nickname. Millennium Pervert, I think it was. Then he left and we didn’t see him again.’
‘Do you think he could have taken that last picture of you before making off with your camera?’
‘Wow, I don’t know. I just thought I’d lost it… or someone picked up the wrong one by mistake… or it was just nicked. But… it was no big deal really. Nothing ever came of it, so I haven’t really thought about it since.’
‘What do you reckon now?’
‘Let me see,’ she says, studying the photograph again. ‘It certainly looks like it was taken from where he’d been sitting.’
We both lean back into our chairs and shake our heads in puzzled synchronicity. There’s another question, pulsing like neon in my head, and Grace verbalises it first.
‘I wonder what your old friend has to do with the Millennium Pervert.’
‘Could Herb even be the Mill...?’ I start to say, but as much as I’ve tried to ignore it, the irrational inference festering in my head that the policewoman’s comments about Herb somehow associate him with photographs of young people stabs me mid-sentence.
‘Well, I suppose anything’s possible,’ she says. ‘Why would he be interested in my friends? And didn’t he tell you he was being blackmailed because of this camera?’
‘First, it looks to me like whoever it was, was only interested in you. It’s ironic they didn’t realise they got far more of you than they bargained for! Second,’ I continue thinking aloud, ‘like I said, I can’t see anything incriminating here for Herb, regardless of whether he took the camera or not. And even if someone else got hold of it, how would they even know what was on there to threaten him with?’
Grace sits there in silence, looking through her photos, and The Banker reminds me about what she said earlier and prods me to voice the thing that’s bugging him the most.
‘Whoever took it,’ I say, ‘doesn’t even begin to explain the outrageous coincidence that it’s your camera I found on that table.’
‘Well,’ she says, apparently missing my point, ‘regardless of who took it, I can’t understand why they wouldn’t bother to develop it.’ And she’s right; that still doesn’t make sense.
‘Especially after all these years,’ I say. ‘To be honest, I’m starting to doubt every word Herb has said.’
‘We need to find out what he’s up to,’ she says, very matter of fact. ‘I hope you don’t mind. This is now as much my mystery as it is yours.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
‘Good. And I’ve got no appointments tomorrow,’ she says, suddenly taking control. ‘Here’s what I think we should do.’
Cold Comfort
Back at my place, we’ve set the alarm for five-thirty and decide on an early night. That said, it isn’t very early by the time we actually settle down to sleep. What’s that they say about it being the best part of breaking up? I’m just glad we seem to be back on an even keel after this afternoon’s outburst. But I do feel the need to say something about it.
‘I can see how it must have looked when all you had to go on was the photo of the sketch,’ I say, absently stroking the soft pad of her palm with my thumb.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry. I panicked.’ She turns to look at me.
‘You thought someone was going to use it against you after all? Herb, I suppose. Or even me.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe old Mr Johnson had finally got wise to it. Or my old classmates, Paula Harvey and Julie Dixon, had fallen on hard times.’ She allows herself a nervous laugh and I reach across and kiss her forehead.
‘I can imagine my story of getting the camera from a scary house for an old friend would have sounded pretty flimsy,’ I add and she smiles and shakes her head. ‘Like maybe I was softening you up for someone else to exploit.’
‘Oh Mickey, no. I didn’t know what to think. But no, not that. I’m not the one being exploited here.’ There’s sincerity in the way she says it, and yet she abruptly turns away and looks up at the time display projected on the ceiling. ‘It’s getting late. We should get some sleep.’
Maybe her conscience is clear, because after turning onto her side, she’s asleep in no time. As I lay beside her, cushioning the back of her naked body with the front of mine, my mind continues to drift. Thanks to her the photos can be explained, but the fact they involve her is too wild a coincidence. There has to be something she isn’t telling me. Her words repeat in my head: I’m not the one being exploited here. Sure, it feels like I’m the one being conned by Herb; is that all she means? Right now, I’ll settle for the comfort that being in this together feels a whole lot better than being in it alone and I kiss the back of her head and roll over to the cold side of the bed.
Mickey Take: When a debt goes bad... Page 14