The State of Me

by Nasim Marie Jafry

  Before we started, he said in a teachery voice, Have you acquainted yourself with the darkroom, Miss Fleet?

  I think so, I said. Everything’s on the floor.

  He laughed. Okay. Lights off. Here goes.

  I loved the soft redness of the safelight. It made you feel safe.

  The enlarger looks like a lamp post, I said.

  He showed me how you enlarge the print by cranking the handle up and down and how you frame the image with the easel.

  Open the lens up to focus, he said, you need all the light you can get, and then stop down to F8 when it comes to printing.

  It’s amazing how the negative comes alive, I said.

  Here, look into the focus finder, you can see the actual grain and really sharpen things up.

  It’s brilliant, I said.

  Let’s do the contact sheet now. Can you hand me some paper?

  I opened the pack of Ilford and took out a sheet. It was like opening a condom, fumbling in the dark.

  Remember, it’s glossy side up. You can feel the glossy side if you get mixed up.

  He laid out the strips of negatives on the paper and covered them with glass from an old clip frame. We’re using a no. 2 filter and well go for fifteen seconds. He flicked the red safe filter aside. One elephant, two elephants, three elephants…

  They did that in Gregory’s Girl, I said.

  I don’t usually do that, I’m just spicing things up, he said.

  He stopped counting and flicked the red tongue back. He handed me the paper.

  In the developer now? I asked.

  Slosh it for a minute. Keep sloshing and counting.

  Fuck, some of it’s spilled on the floor!

  It’s okay as long as the print’s submerged. Keep calm.

  I hope the developer doesn’t stain the carpet.

  Right that’s long enough. Into the stop bath now. Don’t get the tongs mixed up.

  It looks black, I said. I don’t think it’s worked!

  You can’t see ‘til the light’s on…Right, fix it now. Another good slosh.

  I counted elephants dutifully.

  Now leave it for a bit. Is the paper away?

  Yup.

  Okay. Lights on.

  I stood up and put the light on. We looked at the contact sheet.

  A wee bit dark, said Callum.

  I think it’s lovely! I said. You can make them all out. I want to print ‘Agnes Like Bagpipes’.

  Let’s do it again. We can do better than that.

  Can I do it this time?

  I put the light off and knelt down again.

  Let’s do ten seconds this time, he said. And filter no. 1. It’ll soften things up.

  I reached for the box of filters on the bed, dropping them as I handed them to Callum. They spread out on the floor like playing cards. I’m sorry, I said. I’m always dropping things. I’m a fucking butterfingers.

  You need to relax, he said. It doesn’t matter if you make a mistake. He put his arm round me as he changed the filter. I liked his sweater brushing my neck.

  The second contact sheet was better. Can I print Agnes now? I said.

  I think you should go for the Flake in the puddle. It’s sharper.

  You’re the expert.

  I put the Flake negative in the carrier. Can you do the lights, please? I said. I’m getting dizzy getting up and down.

  He switched off the light and I saw that I’d put the negative in upside down. I turned it round. It’s too dark, I said. I can’t see a thing.

  Open it up to 4.5, he said.

  I keep forgetting, I said. I’ll never remember all this. Will it need soft printing because it’s contrasty?

  He laughed. Listen to David Bailey!

  It’s surreal in this light, I said. I feel like we’re in a film.

  He’d gone all serious. He showed me how to do a test strip and find the best exposure. Take a note of your final settings, he said. You can write them on the back of the print in pencil.

  Finally, at F8/12 seconds/filter 1, I had a black and white print of a Flake wrapper in a puddle.

  Your first print! he said.

  I love it, I said. Good tonal range if I say so myself.

  We should celebrate.

  How?

  With a wee snog on the bed.

  Callum!

  Only joshing. You just look very sexy in this light.

  And you don’t seem such a scallywag. You’re a good teacher. Very patient.

  Aye, my scallywagness is subdued in the darkroom. You see me in a different light, if you’ll pardon the pun.

  Can we have a break before we do another one? I said. My head feels weird.

  Sure. I’m dying for a fag.

  You can go downstairs and have a cigarette. I think we’ve got Jammie Dodgers.

  As I turned off the light and closed the door to make sure Agnes wouldn’t get in, I saw there was a dead moth in the fixer.

  The second time we set up the darkroom, Callum told me the reason he hadn’t come round with the interview contact sheets was his dad had hit his mum, and he’d hit his dad, and his mum and his sister had gone to stay with his granny. His dad had gone round crying and promised he would stop drinking and his mum had gone back even when she knew it was a lie. It’ll be all cosy, ring-a-ring-a-rosie for a while, Callum said, and then he’ll binge again. I feel I can tell you. I used to tell Roquia this stuff.

  I’m sorry, I said. I don’t know what to say. Rita hit my dad once but I know it’s not remotely the same.

  He hasn’t hit her for years ‘cos he knows I’ll get him, he said. He threw a cup at her once and she had to go to Casualty.

  Why doesn’t she leave him?

  She’s tried. When we were wee, we’d go to stay in my auntie’s in Crieff, but he’d come round whimpering like a dog. We even changed schools once. We went to a Catholic primary and had a green uniform. My mum says he’s fine when he’s not drinking, she says that’s the real Duncan. Things get back to normal and you almost forget, then he comes home steaming and my mum reads the riot act and my wee sister’s pleading with them to stop shouting.

  I put my hand on his back. He bent his head forward and I walked my fingers up to the knobbly bit on his neck. He brought his head back and I cradled his neck in my hand.

  It must be scary for your sister.

  It is, but she’s the apple of his eye. He’d never lay a finger on her. She’s dying to move out but she doesn’t want to leave my mum.

  Your poor mum.

  He always buys her presents after a raji. That’s what the new carpet was all about. But he’ll have had another ten rajis by the time it’s paid up.

  What does he do?

  He’s an electrician. Sometimes I hope he’ll get killed at work.

  It’s good you can joke.

  You have to, doll. D’you know what he did once when we were really wee? He opened all the doors on the advent calendar when he was drunk. My mum tried to close them all again, but they kept opening.

  What a bastard!

  I still remember that calendar. It was glittery.

  Glittery ones are the best.

  With swedgers behind the doors!

  Nah, I don’t like the ones with sweets, they look horrible when they’re open, just an empty hole, no picture.

  He laughed. I used to hate it when you got a crap picture like a robin or a drum.

  Or a skate.

  That bastard opened the whole fucking calendar, he said, shaking his head.

  I’ll get you a deluxe calendar next Christmas, I said.

  With glitter and swedgers?

  Of course!

  I might just hold you to that.

  Can I tell you something now? I said. It’s really trivial compared to what you’ve told me but I want to tell you.

  Aye.

  It’s really, really trivial.

  Stop apologising, he said. Spit it out.

  There’s something about this light that makes you w
ant to tell the truth, isn’t there?

  I suppose, he said.

  I took my hand away from his neck. Remember you were asking if I missed Ivan and if I trusted him, and I said a hundred percent, well I was lying ‘cos I don’t. I’m always worried sick that he’s away with someone else ‘cos I’m ill. And I think he’s shagging Joyce in India and that’s why he’s extended his trip.

  Who’s Joyce?

  Some fucking superwoman doctor.

  Callum didn’t speak.

  D’you think he has met someone else?!

  I don’t know, doll. He’d be daft to have someone else, but you know what it’s like when you’re so far away. Boys will be boys. You shouldn’t think about it.

  I can’t stop thinking about it. I torture myself with images of them. The only time I don’t think about him is when I’m doing photography stuff. It’s the only thing that absorbs me.

  Well, we better get back to work then. Hand me the negs, Diane.

  I sent copies of the best prints to Jana and Fizza. I’d written titles underneath in indelible ink: Agnes as Bagipes, DMs in the Rain, Ripped Bin Bag, Rita’s Wedding Hat. I sent ‘Flake in Puddle’ to Delhi. I didn’t even know where Ivan was. It was now the middle of March and I hadn’t heard from him for three weeks. I knew he wouldn’t be home by the end of the month. He’d drip-feed me the truth in his next letter. I didn’t care just now: Agnes was at the top of my list of griefs. Sometimes she seemed to be in remission and sprang about the vegetable garden like a demented kitten. At others, she lay limp on the settee for days like a resident in an old folk’s home. She couldn’t jump in the window anymore. I massaged her gently between the ears. I wished she could tell me where it hurt.

  Easter 1987

  stranger What did you do today?

  me I rescued our neighbours’ child Zoe from snapdragons. I caught her in the front garden about to put them in her mouth.

  stranger You need eyes on the back of your head when they’re that age.

  me Ask me what else I did!

  stranger What else did you do?

  me I learned to dodge and burn.

  stranger So, you’re an expert in the darkroom now.

  me Yup. I say ‘negs’, and I use water instead of stop solution…Ask me what else I did!

  stranger What else?

  me I kissed Callum!

  stranger How did that happen?

  me We’d been in the darkroom all night, talking more than developing, and I felt really close to him. Then Nellie’s hamster got out of its cage – we’re looking after it while they’re in London – and Callum was saying we could get another, black-eyed creams are ten a penny, and I was laughing so much I was crying, and I couldn’t stop crying, and he put his arms round me and kissed me and he tasted of cigarettes but I liked it and we had to keep looking for the hamster and we were both really shy of each other.

  stranger You’ve certainly had a busy day. When the cat’s away the mice will play! Did you find the hamster, by the way?

  me Eventually. It was huddled under the bed behind a sweater. D’you think I should tell Ivan about Callum?

  stranger Well, they say honesty is the best policy!

  15

  An Orange Silk Dress

  AGNES DIED TODAY. I feel like Camus. I only ever read the first line of L’Étranger, Jana was doing it for her final exam. I could never write a line like that – how can writers do that, write of terrible things? I’d be scared it really happened – maman dying – and a world without Rita is just not possible. But it’s okay to write that Agnes died today, because it really happened and I can’t tempt it by writing it.

  We thought she’d die during the night, she was so weak. We took her to the vet first thing this morning. I haven’t been up this early for months. I’m usually only up early for hospital appointments.

  I stroked her head and they cut a chink in her fur and injected her with Euthatal. Then they took her away and incinerated her.

  None of us spoke at dinner. We all had lumps in our throats.

  You keep hoping her wee head will push round the door. You can’t imagine her as NOT existing – you can’t imagine her as dust. There are still tins of Whiskas in the cupboard – tuna and rabbit.

  Brian phoned and said, It’s terrible about the cat, isn’t it?

  Yeah, but it’s good she’s not suffering anymore. She was very ill.

  I suppose so. Did you see Top of the Pops?

  No.

  Prince was on. He sang Purple Rain. It’s my favourite.

  Why can’t we get another cat? I said to Rita a few days later.

  Because they’re too much of a responsibility, she said.

  I knew she’d say this.

  We could get one from the animal home, I said. No one wants the ones with three legs or one eye, but as long as it’s a tortoiseshell, I don’t mind.

  That’s all I need, she said, a handicapped cat. We’re not getting another one. You can get one when you have your own flat.

  Well, that’ll be the year 2000, I said. I’ll call it Mango. I think that’s a lovely name for a cat, don’t you?

  Not really. It’s a bit pretentious, calling your cat after fruit.

  Chekhov named his dogs Bromine and Quinine, I said.

  She laughed. Is Callum coming for tea tonight?

  I think so. He might be a bit late though. He’s taking photos of that Scout Hall that was set on fire.

  You two seem very cosy these days.

  I felt myself blushing. We’re good friends, Mum, that’s all.

  I never said otherwise, replied my mother.

  I’m just telling you, there’s nothing going on. Anyway, it would be therapeutic for me to have another cat. It’d increase my chances of recovery.

  We’re not getting another one.

  Stroking pets is supposed to reduce your blood pressure.

  Stop blackmailing me, Helen.

  We could get a diabetic one and give it injections.

  No!

  I’m only kidding, I said.

  I never know with you, she replied.

  He’d stay late and come into my bed when Nab and Rita were asleep. We’d try to be quiet so they wouldn’t hear. I had to cover his mouth so he wouldn’t groan too loudly. He’d asked me to go to his sister’s twenty-first with him at the end of May. I said I’d try and was already worrying about what to wear.

  I want to be asleep to get away from the pain in my spine, but the chemicals that let you sleep seem to be missing from my head. I try and think of what everyone I know is doing RIGHT NOW. Callum’ll be having a joint. Jana might be laughing her sexy laugh and putting her hair behind her ear. Sean and Nellie will be entwined. Or they might be studying together in the main library or having a drink in Curlers. Fizza will be in bed, feeling vile. She might be crying. Brian will be doing a watercolour – it’s his new thing. He got watercolour crayons for Christmas and has been painting cats non-stop since Agnes died. They’re quite good. And Ivan – I have no idea what Ivan will be doing or where he will be doing it. He could have emigrated to Australia for all I know. Or he could be dead from dysentery.

  Would you like some tea, Helen? Rita shouted up.

  Yes, please. That would be lovely, thanks.

  I was still half asleep. I drifted off again and was woken by the cup rattling on the saucer and Ivan saying, Here’s your tea, Looby.

  I sat up and grabbed at his arms and his clothes. Is it you, is it really you?!

  Yeah, it’s me. He was smiling.

  But you didn’t tell me you were coming home!

  I wanted to surprise you, he said. He hugged me and I was crying and laughing and dreaming it all.

  Rita came up with the tea. Who were you talking to?

  I woke myself up shouting again. I was dreaming that Ivan was home. It was so real.

  Afraid not. Just me. I’m off to work. See you later.

  See you.

  The dream had been so real I felt robbed. I wa
s sad for the rest of the day.

  I defrosted some beef and made chilli con carne for dinner as a surprise for Rita and Nab. I wondered if bay leaves actually did anything or if it was all just a con.

  Ivan called from Heathrow two days after the dream. He sounded different, as if he were articulating his words for someone whose first language wasn’t English. You sound like an American journalist in a film, I said.

  I’ll come to see you in a few days – as soon as I’ve got some decent sleep, he said.

  When exactly?

  When I’m not tired.

  Can you not give me a day?

  I’ll call you when I get to my parents’.

  You should’ve told me you were coming home. Your plane could’ve crashed and I would’ve had no idea you were on it.

  My money’s running out…I have to go, babe.

  I was sick with excitement, and shaking. Ivan’d called me ‘babe’ – how American, how romantic!

  My head was inflamed with the multi-tasking that lay ahead. First, I called Marion’s salon. I’d like to make an appointment for highlights and a cut and blow-dry, please.

  Marion’s off for the week, the girl said. Jay could do you tomorrow at nine.

  Is Jay good?

  Jay trains the trainees, she said snootily.

  Can you fit me in in the afternoon? Morning’s no good.

  Can you get away from your work for twelve?

  I’ll try, I said. (I’d need to set my alarm.)

  Next, I phoned Clare and made an appointment for a leg waxing.

  That night, I fantasised about picking Ivan up from the airport in his car – I’d been using it to get to my translator’s job while he was away. I’d be a bit late ‘cos I was held up at a meeting and I’d be putting lipstick on at the traffic lights. I’d be wearing my new charcoal grey suit.

  Jay stood behind me, putting his fingers through my hair. I’d told him I wanted a choppy bob with blonde highlights – I had a picture from Vogue. Your hair’s much thicker than the model’s, he said. She’s more flyaway. We don’t want to go too layered or it could look frizzy when it’s dried.