The Smoke In The Photograph

by Kit Tinsley

  She looked over at her friend, the elegant, confident model who was so fragile inside.

  Wendy was sitting on the sofa still flicking through the photographs Julia had taken. Her face was still a mask of amazement.

  As if she felt she was being watched, Wendy looked up at her.

  'These are amazing,' Wendy said. She held up one photograph taken in the master bedroom. The smoke was swirling to the right hand side, taking up virtually the whole height of the photograph.

  'It looks like a figure trying to form in this one,' she continued. 'Just like in the second painting.'

  Julia had noticed that herself. The shape, colour, and density of the smoke in that particular image were almost identical to the one she had painted reflected in the camera lens.

  She had not taken the picture until after she had finished the painting. Of course, Steven would try to tell her that she was confused, and actually she had seen the photograph and then done the painting, but she knew that wasn't the case. It had been the painting that had inspired her to take the damn photographs in the first place.

  A streak of light passed slowly across the wall in front of her, and Julia heard the sound of an engine. She looked around and saw the car pulling into the driveway.

  'It's her,' Wendy said, getting to her feet in a rush of excitement. She loved all of this stuff. It was her passion.

  'Would you let her in for me?' Julia asked.

  'Sure,' she said and then exited the room.

  Julia got up and looked in the mirror, realising she hadn't done anything more than tie her hair back that day. She looked at the dark rings under her eyes and saw the effects of how little sleep she’d had.

  Wendy came back with a tall woman in her mid to late fifties. She was conservatively dressed in a black skirt and jacket suit with a red blouse. Her greying hair was cut short at the back and sides with more length on top.

  Julia realised how prejudiced she had been. She was expecting someone small and flamboyant, like the Tangina character in thePoltergeist movies, not someone so normal. This woman could easily pass for a lawyer, or a doctor even.

  'Julia Draper, meet Madame Helga Cranston.'

  Julia stepped forward and shook her hand. Her face must have shown her shock, as Helga smiled and spoke.

  'You were expecting someone more...' She paused looking for the appropriate word. 'Garish?'

  Julia nodded and laughed.

  'Yes, sorry,' she said. 'I guess it's what the movies have taught me.'

  Helga waved her hand.

  'Don't worry. I get that all the time,' Julia noticed the hint of an accent, hidden behind the crisp English dialect. She wasn't sure but presumed it was German or Dutch.

  'Yes,' Helga said. 'I was born in Germany, but have lived here for more years than I can remember.'

  That made sense. Then Julia realised that somehow the woman had answered a question that Julia had only asked in her mind.

  'Thank you for coming at such short notice,' Julia said.

  'You're welcome, my dear,' Helga said. 'Wendy is one of my best customers, although she didn't really explain what the problem was.'

  Julia took a deep breath. She had admitted this to Steven who had laughed it off, and to Wendy who had utterly believed her, but the idea of saying it to a stranger was nerve-racking.

  'Well, I...' She paused to gather her strength. 'I think my house is haunted.'

  Helga looked at her then looked around the room slowly, as though she was taking in every detail.

  'From what Julia has told me, I thought we might need a séance,' Wendy said.

  Helga continued looking around the room.

  'In time, maybe,' she said, before turning her attention back to Julia. 'Please, show me around, and explain some of the things that have happened.'

  Julia nodded.

  'Of course,' she said. 'Follow me.'

  Julia led the other two women out of the room.

  Sam headed towards the main exit of the hospital. The surgeon he had spoken to, Draper, seemed to know very little about the security on stock in the hospital. The nurse had led him to a phone and given him the number for Sister Hartly, the theatre manager, who had agreed to meet him the following morning. He hoped that she would be more useful.

  He was just about to walk out when he heard someone call his name.

  'Detective Fluting,' a woman’s voice called behind him.

  He turned to see the same young woman he had met in the pub in Darton. She was dressed far more seductively in a short skirt and high heels. He searched his memory for her name. It was something unusual. Like a Disney princess. Aurora? No, that wasn't it.

  'Ariel,' the name popping into his mind at just the right time. 'What are you doing here?'

  She walked over to him.

  'Oh, just visiting my grandmother.’

  Sam thought that the outfit was a little inappropriate for visiting an elderly relative in hospital, but he guessed she was probably going out somewhere afterwards.

  'What are you doing here?' she asked.

  'I'm here on official business, unfortunately,' he replied.

  She looked around.

  'Not another murder?' she asked.

  'No, but I'm really not at liberty to discuss why I'm here. Sorry.’

  She shook her head.

  'No need to apologise,' she said. 'I understand. Did you enjoy your night out in Darton?'

  Just the name of the town brought back the dull thud of his hangover. Jesus, had it been that long since he'd drunk that much that his body couldn’t take it anymore, or was he just getting old?

  'To be honest, I was a little worse for wear this morning. In fact I still have a little bit of a hangover.'

  'You deserved a rest, Sam,' So she had remembered his first name. 'You've been working so hard.'

  'Not according to the papers,' he said.

  'What do they know? We know. That's all that matters.'

  She leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

  'Good luck.’

  She turned to leave. He thought about calling after her. There was something about this woman. She seemed to understand him and be able to soothe his mind. Didn't he deserve the chance to get to know her better? Become her friend, maybe even more?

  Then he thought about the case, and what it had done to his marriage. There was no sense even thinking of pursuing a new relationship until this was all over. He turned back and headed to the door.

  He was just about to step outside when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned back to see Ariel standing behind him. She was biting her lip.

  'What's wrong?' he asked.

  She handed him a slip of paper.

  'I know this is forward,' she said. 'I know you're a really busy man, but if you ever want to meet up for a drink, or a chat, here's my number.'

  Sam took the slip of paper and put it in his jacket pocket, next to the scalpel.

  'That would be great.’

  She looked up at him, a coy smile gracing her beautiful lips.

  'Okay,' she said. 'Bye for now.'

  She turned and walked away again. This time Sam watched her until she was out of sight. Then he left the hospital, feeling much better about the case, and life in general.

  Julia had led Helga and Wendy around the house, explaining the incident that had occurred in the master bedroom with the flashes of light and Steven collapsing. Helga had said very little, just nodded along as Julia spoke, and looked around each room methodically, as though studying the very air of the place.

  When they reached the attic, Julia had explained about the window, which was of course open again, and the flashes she had seen up there. Then she had told the psychic about the painting. Helga nodded and walked over to the open window.

  She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Wendy stood motionless at Julia's side.

  'It happened here,' Helga said, still with her eyes closed. 'This is the place where she died. This is the very spot.'
>
  Julia felt a shiver run down her spine, and when she turned to her friend, Wendy was rubbing her goose fleshed arms.

  'She was in such great pain,' Helga continued. 'She was still alive, gasping for breath when he started to butcher her.'

  Helga opened her eyes and looked across to Julia and Wendy.

  'I think she knew her killer.’

  'Was it her husband?' Wendy asked. 'I know he was under suspicion for some time.'

  Helga shrugged.

  'This I don't know. Yet.' she said.

  Julia walked across to the window and shut it once more. She felt conscious of where she was standing, trying to close the window from the side, to avoid stepping on the spot where Helga had told them the woman had died. When the window was closed, she walked over to Helga.

  'Is she still here?' she asked. 'Is Helen Swanson haunting this house?'

  Helga frowned.

  'So far everything I have picked up on is residual,' she said.

  Julia heard the words, but didn't understand the meaning.

  'Residual?' she asked. 'What does that mean?'

  'There are several types of haunting,' Helga explained. 'A residual haunting is where psychic imprints linger on in the atmosphere.'

  The explanation struck a chord with Julia.

  'Like smoke in a photograph,' she said, more to herself.

  'Pardon, dear?' Helga said, her voice a little confused.

  Julia shook her head.

  'Oh, nothing, please go on.'

  'Like a bad smell, or a pleasant one for that matter, feelings can linger on in the atmosphere long after the people and events that caused them are gone.'

  She took Julia by the hand and led her to the window.

  'Sometimes they are very weak, and only someone who is sensitive to them can pick up on them. Like the vision I just got at this window. Others are so strong that people see long-forgotten events replayed. This is the most common form of haunting. These spirits, though, are not able to communicate with us. They aren't even aware of us.'

  Julia thought about this. She was sure that in some way the spirit in the house was trying to communicate with her.

  'What about the fact that the window keeps opening by itself?' she asked.

  Helga nodded.

  'That doesn't really sit with a residual haunting. That is more akin to poltergeist activity. I'm sure you have heard of them.'

  Julia nodded. She doubted there was anyone left alive who didn't know what a poltergeist was. It had been the subject and title of her favourite horror film when growing up.

  'As you know, these are a form of psychic energy that can manipulate objects. They are often centered around a person, most commonly a girl in puberty or someone who is mentally ill.'

  Julia felt the shame as it blushed her cheeks. Perhaps Steven was right and her mental illness was to blame for all of this, though not in the way he suspected.

  'I had a breakdown last year.’

  Helga took her hands once again.

  'You are not causing this. This is not a poltergeist case. From what you have told me, I believe that your house is haunted by a sentient being that is attempting to communicate with you. This house has everything that would constitute a true haunting. Opening windows, cold spots, whispering voices, light anomalies and visible spectres.'

  Julia shook her head.

  'But I haven't seen a ghost,' she said.

  Helga looked directly at her.

  'Not yet,' she said.

  Steven decided to try to get some sleep after the detective had left. There were no more emergencies at the time, so he thought it best to rest.

  He had been just starting to drift off to sleep when the same nurse opened the door.

  'Doctor Draper?'

  Steven opened his eyes and sat up.

  'Is there another emergency?' he asked, trying to wake himself quickly.

  'No, your sister's here. She says she needs to speak to you urgently.'

  Steven was almost about to tell the nurse she must be mistaken. After all, he didn't have a sister, just an older brother. The he realised, the only person who would use that excuse, and his heart sank.

  Ariel.

  He had been trying to avoid any contact with her, so she had come to seek him out. He forgot that he had given her a copy of his rota.

  'Oh, right,' he said, standing up. 'Where is my sister?'

  'At reception,' the nurse said smiling, unaware that she was the bearer of bad news.

  'Thank you.’

  The nurse nodded and left the room. Steven knew what had to be done. This had to end now. He was sure his fears were unfounded. Ariel was a beautiful and intelligent woman. He was sure that she could be reasoned with.

  Then why the trick with the shoes? a voice in his head asked.

  Perhaps it had been a genuine mistake. After all, she had seen how neatly he put things away. Perhaps she was trying to be polite by doing the same, and left them there by accident.

  Who the fuck accidentally leaves their shoes?the voice asked.Surely she would have needed them to go home in?

  He tried telling this voice to shut up. He had to end it. He couldn't keep doing this to Julia, not with everything she had been through.

  He knew, though, that the voice had won this round. He was once more too scared to put an end to it. He would just have to give himself more time.

  He left the room and headed to the surgical reception. She was waiting there, dressed like she was going out clubbing. Her nails and lips were scarlet. When she saw him she ran over to him. She threw her arms around him enthusiastically and kissed him on the cheek. Steven could see all of the nurses behind the desk watching them.

  'Hello brother, dear,' she said playfully. He wasn't in the mood for playing.

  'You know how I hate being disturbed at work,' he said curtly.

  He could see that she had noticed the shortness in his tone. She filched as though hurt by it. She grabbed his hands.

  'I need to speak to you in private.’

  He sighed. He really didn't want to be in this situation that night, with everything that had happened. The move, his own stay in hospital, and Julia’s odd behaviour had him exhausted.

  It was clear that Ariel was not going to go without at least a private conversation.

  'Okay,' he took her hand and led her around the corner from the reception desk.

  They walked down the corridor until they reached the store cupboard. Steven opened the door and ushered her into the room.

  Ariel walked in and hopped up to sit on one of the shelves, knocking a box of scalpels to the floor as she did. Steven was amazed that the clatter they made didn't attract any of the nurses. He poked his head back out of the door but didn’t see anybody coming to investigate. Once back in the storeroom, he saw Ariel picking up the scalpels and putting them back in the box.

  'Sorry,' she said. 'I'm so clumsy.'

  'Don't bother. They need sterilising now.'

  She pouted.

  'Are you mad at me?' she asked.

  'No.’

  She pressed herself up against him.

  'Do you remember the last time you brought me in here?' she nuzzled into his neck. 'That was a fun night.'

  'What do you want?' he asked.

  She kissed his neck and then whispered in his ear.

  'I wanted to see you, I've missed you.'

  He pushed her away a little and saw the hurt in her eyes. He knew that if he didn't want her to create a scene, he was going to have to play this very carefully.

  'I’ve missed you too,' he lied. 'But, I'm not in the mood for this tonight.'

  'What's the matter?' she asked.

  'It's Julia, I think she might be having another breakdown.'

  She caressed his back, tracing his spine with her fingers.

  'I could take your mind off it,' she said. 'Like last time.'

  The words made Steven feel like shit. They were a reminder of how terrible he had been to the pe
rson he loved most in the world. He doubted he would ever forgive himself.

  He pushed Ariel away once more.

  'Not tonight, I'll call you when I get finished here.'

  She sighed.

  'You better,' the tone was playful but Steven still sensed a menace in her voice. 'Or I might call you.'

  She turned to leave the room, then looked back at him.

  'You need to shape up, Steve,' she said. 'It's not like I don't have other options.'

  She left the room. Steven slumped to the floor and wondered how the hell he was going to break it off with her when she scared him so much.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Helga had them seated at the dining room table. The psychic was sitting at the head of the table with the other two women flanking her at either side.

  The house was quiet. The only sounds Julia was aware of was the gentle rush of the wind outside, and the loud tick of the clock on the mantlepiece.

  Helga had asked her to light five white candles on the table, and switch off all electric lights in the house. The glowing flames danced in the slight draught, undoubtedly caused by the attic window opening once more. They cast an ethereal, orange glow across the room, and the flickering made shadows dance across the walls.

  'As I said upstairs, from what you have told me I believe there is a presence in your home that is trying to communicate with you,' Helga said, her voice soft. Her slightly lilting accent was almost hypnotic. 'Therefore I believe we should perform a séance.'

  Julia thought about how quickly she had gone from nonbeliever to sitting in a candlelit room about to take part in a séance.

  'Okay,' she said. 'What do we do?'

  Helga smiled. It was a warm smile that made her look like a reassuring aunt in the flickering light.

  'We will sit with our hands joined, and using our combined psychic energy I shall enter a trance state.'